Yesterday, at 5pm, Oasis unveiled the video to their new single Falling Down. The video itself shows nothing immediately troublesome as far as this loose series of entries goes, though it does exhibit a worryingly worn anti-Royalist focus on values that would’ve looked old hat a decade ago. The nothingness of the song itself is a far greater crime, but one that will undoubtedly be greeted in some quarters with praise nowhere near fain enough.
In a similar vein to The Verve’s comeback song of last year, Love Is Noise, Falling Down sounds at first like something of a departure to their stock fare. Softer in its delivery to much of Oasis’ more heavy-handed offerings of late, the main focus initially is on the (relatively speaking) tricky rhythm and Noel Gallagher’s light falsetto. The lyrics are remarkably poetic in comparison to the remainder of Dig Out Your Soul (a steaming reminder that the music of the common people refuses to grow old productively or with invention), slyly referencing Alexander Pope and creating an ambience of faint doom with existential wonderings quite easily.
This is all positive. Strange, for a series entitled as this one is. But the positives of this song are so exploded, enhanced, unassailably and irrevocably to be leapt upon by the popular press that the band’s ‘genius’ is surely to be trumpeted from the rooftops as if it was 1994. The people haven’t heard Oasis in their emotional mode for a few years now, and this soft-yet-intense non-classic will probably see fans come flooding back to them, forgetting that they are one of the least ‘cool’ bands on the planet according to much of the press.
Emotional resonance is achieved by simple affectations and the sheer fact that Oasis haven’t made anyone cry since the sickly Stand By Me. Their adherence to hard rockin’ (Lyla, The Shock Of The Lightning) and whimsy (The Importance Of Being Idle) since their relatively un-dramatic comeback in 2005 means that this step into morose territory could well see them become press darlings once again, at the tender age of about twenty-odd. Frightening. Were it by a newer, cheaper band, Falling Down would serve perfectly as the soundtrack to trails for a forthcoming Channel Four documentary about competitive fatness. Though it’s wrong for writing to refer to itself like this, praise don’t come much fainter than that.