The disc begins with "The Hindu Times," a moderately paced mover, featuring a lead guitar that plays suspended riffs and a beautiful blues seventh thing. Liam Gallagher's voice still maintains that rasping, whining snarl, though this time around the sneering arrogance seems to have taken a back seat. The sound is big, lots of reverb, with acoustic guitars and keyboards mixed high. Despite the sonic madness though, the song's hook is quickly accessible, and makes it the kind of tune you can hear many times without tiring of it.

Noel Gallagher sings the next cut, "Force of Nature," which has a shuffle beat that's reminiscent of an old Kinks song, and clearly has that Brit rock sound to it. "Hung in a Bad Place" shares traits with the opener, full of charging guitars, including a lead that plays a repetitive hook while Liam's voice rings out. But when the boys break into "Stop Crying Your Heart Out," a ballad in the style of the Wonderwall album, it's time to pull out the Kleenex and get all misty-eyed. Slated as the first single in the States, it should do well, given the current crop of competition. Vocals weave in and out, orchestral strings slide between notes – a definite sadness prevails. The immediate impact of the song tears you away from whatever you're doing, draws you in, and just makes you listen. Oasis appear to have the ability to write songs like this at will, and should they keep at it long enough, their catalog will be impressive.

Overall, the songs vary in sound and tempo, often yielding a blues undercurrent. As in the past, Noel penned most of the tunes with Liam writing three songs, one of which is "Songbird," a two-minute acoustic ditty that again recalls early Kinks. New band members also penned a song apiece, with guitarist Gem Archer providing "Hung in a Bad Place" and bassist Andy Bell giving us "A Quick Peep," which at just over a minute lives up to its title, and acts more as filler. The boys also show their Beatle influence on "Probably All in the Mind." And if it doesn't bring "Ticket to Ride" to mind, then you haven't been listening to your Fab Four.

It's sad that the mention of Oasis more often than not evokes visions of dysfunctional siblings, instead of eliciting thoughts of solid songwriting. We tend to focus on a few moments of mishap, and ignore the rest. But the Gallaghers continue to write songs that generate an immediate emotional response from the listener, and yet also maintain durability. Not too many other artists in the pop arena are this talented. Sure, the band reveals the influences of its predecessors (read: Beatles), but if you're going to steal, you might as well take from the best.

Heathen Chemistry is an album that should make the top twenty lists at the end of the year. You owe it to yourself to give it a listen. — B.R.

Well, they've always had a penchant for big, swoopy songs that sound as if they were recorded in a stadium. This time around, the band adds a touch of electronica, not so much via the use of keyboards, but rather in the flavor of the material.

Much like the music of many electronic-keyboard-oriented bands, the songs on this disc consist of verses and choruses that often share the same chord structure, leaving little in the way of imaginative or creative music to evolve. What's the effect on the listener? Well, I'm afraid it drives me a bit batty. One aspect of pop songwriting that's important is movement, like, something should happen; one part of a composition should lead to another. Though, admittedly, it's not as necessary with dance music, because most listeners aren't really paying attention. They're just boogying to the beat.

Sure, some songs on the disc avoid this construction. "One Step Closer" sounds like the Simple Minds of old, though the keyboards are a bit heavy. As singer Jim Kerr tackles the chorus, vocals swell with a healthy dab of digital delay, and you may find yourself traipsing back to the glory days of the '80s, when the boys were in top form. "Face in the Sun," an acoustic ballad, stands out as well, given its contrast to the rest of the material. It builds, shedding its acoustic beginnings for something heavier, and the variety in the song is memorable.

"Cry," seems a strange title for the disc. Though the songs find an unusual influence in dance music and electronica, the band is still pop centered. Unfortunately, its attempt to reign in the mix doesn't always work. There's an unevenness throughout the songs, no melodies reach out and grab you, and unless you feel like dancing, the sounds and beats will pass you by. Wait, maybe "Cry" does make sense.... — B.R.

Johnston's vocals are more than adequate. At times he sounds a bit desperate and whiny, as on "Time and Time Again," and though he stands a good chance of being buried by the guitars at live shows, on disc he easily fights his way to the surface to be heard. The tonality of his pipes is such that teenage girls should be dropping in the aisles swooning, as the mixture of feelings in his voice seems to be guided by emotions and not necessarily technique. Johnston also penned the lyrics, which show more of a poetic edge than the work of some of his contemporaries. His writing also tends to rise above the typical boy-wants-girl structure.

The band seems to prefer a certain disjointed nature. Some songs are in time signatures other than 4/4, while others just sound like they're not 4/4, owing to the way the two guitars sporadically bounce over the rhythm section. Thus, you may sense a familiarity to bands such as Tool, or others who toy with the sacred 4/4 beat. But it seems the band is poised to go big, hooking up with the Locobazooka tour, getting songs on the soundtrack of the latest Matthew McConaughey movie, and getting a ton of airplay with "Walk Away." They've got the sound and the looks to make it, the only question is, why are they mad at gravity? — B.R.

Solomon Burke with Elvis Costello. Photo by Mark Mauer.

But it is the voice, that wonderful, silky, raspy, from-the-gut voice of Solomon Burke that makes this a must-have disc for anyone building a music library. Burke, who for whatever reason never seemed to rise as high as other stars like Otis Redding, nevertheless possesses a sound and a depth in his vocals that have little use for effects or trickery to aid it along. He is an authentic talent.

And on this disc, Burke chooses material from such unlikely contributors as Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, Nick Lowe, Elvis Costello, and Brian Wilson, to name a few. I say unlikely because though the contributors are all accomplished songwriters, in the soul canon, for example, you don't usually find Bob Dylan's name mentioned. And it is precisely that angle that makes the disc so intriguing.

On producer Joe Henry's song, "Flesh and Blood," Burke's voice postively sears. There is more soul in a few verses here than I've heard on commercial radio in a year. Complementing Burke's voice is discreet, minimal instrumentation – simple drums, bass, organ, guitar, and not too much of it. The Blind Boys of Alabama provide backing vocals on one cut, and Daniel Lanois plays guitar on another. The overall sparseness of the instrumentation not only showcases Burke's vocals, it also gives a late-night lounge feel to the music (read: ultra-cool). In fact, the disc was recorded in just four days, using the old-school approach, and foregoing the computer-assisted tracking that aids so many groups today. And the technique paid off handsomely.

Brian Wilson's "Soul Searching," sounds more like Motown than the Beach Boys. And Van Morrison's "Only a Dream," features Burke's soaring vocals over the lovely backdrop of a subtle guitar and organ.

There is much more praise to be had for each of the cuts, but simply put, this is music at its best. If there is a knock, it sounds, at least on my copy, that there is a bit of a roll off on the high end. But that could easily be a minor production glitch, as in the past I've received CDs that weren't quite the final mix. But it doesn't matter – ain't nobody getting their hands on my copy, no way, no how. — B.R.

Singer/guitarist Craig Nicholls, bassist/backing vocalist Patrick Matthews, drummer Hamish Rosser, and guitarist Ryan Griffiths are versatile when it comes to getting their rocks off. That is, they're perfectly happy playing any style of rock, be it punk or alternative.

Though parts of Highly Evolved sound like they were filtered through a batch of Quaaludes ("Autumn Shade," "Mary Jane"), it's as if the majority of songs are on uppers. Nicholls' howling is raw enough to make your ears itch. His nasally vocals sound like a snide version of Liam Gallagher's, and his scraped wails give Scott Weiland's a run for their money.

While all that may be just ducky to those who like such music, at times, much of his screaming saturates the songs to the point of sustaining them. "Outtathaway" is a bunch of ragged Beatles-screams over mod-cool, toe-tapping chords, and the barest of drumbeats. The single "Get Free" is reminiscent of Nirvana's "Territorial Pissings" with Nicholls' screaming the dour line, "She never loved me, why should anyone?" The Vines channel the mellowness of the Beatles on "Homesick," a sweet piano ditty with airy vocals and a cozy kind of sadness, and again on "Country Yard," a perfect tune for wandering through a field of pretty poppies.

The boys have put together a damn good mix of tunes. Albeit, one that puts them safely on the growing roster of new bands that sound like old bands of the '70s (think the Strokes, the Hives, the White Stripes, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, etc.). — J.F.