There’s a moment on “Halo,” the fifth song on Liam Gallagher’s Why Me? Why Not., where the rocker breaks down and a flute comes to the forefront in a flourish of purple psychedelia. At that precise moment, it’s hard not to think of “Halo” as a sideways dig at “Holy Mountain,” the pounding, flute-filled first single from Noel Gallagher’s 2017 album, Who Built the Moon? Then again, it’s generally hard to think of Liam Gallagher without thinking of his estranged sibling. More than being just brothers, the pair have historically had complementary strengths, with Noel providing Oasis their songs and Liam giving the band its voice and charisma.
Noel managed to shake off the ghost of Oasis, but that task has proven much harder for Liam to achieve. Why Me? Why Not. is Liam’s second solo album, arriving after a pair of albums by Beady Eye, a group that was effectively latter-day Oasis without Noel. Considering that Noel was the chief songwriter in Oasis, this was a problem. It’s not that Liam didn’t write. He began contributing to Oasis albums in 2000, once rock’n’roll excess and sibling stress started to take a toll on Noel, and Liam continued to contribute a few tunes every few years, always maintaining a respectable level of craft without ever threatening to approach his brother’s level of mastery.
Beady Eye eroded Gallagher’s sales but not his fame. Tabloids continued to pursue Liam not only because he was mired in personal troubles, but because he made good copy. Tales of divorce and illegitimate children kept him in the spotlight as he made the slow transition from lead singer to lone wolf. When he reintroduced himself as a solo singer in 2017 with As You Were, the move made sense, since he needed to draw a clear line between himself, Beady Eye, and Oasis. What is a mystery is why he’s chosen to replicate this same maneuver for Why Me? Why Not.
Accompanied by a documentary film that attempts to justify Gallagher’s wanderings in the aftermath of Oasis—a movie that quickly devolves into an extended press kit, where the moments of high drama involve a late-night Twitter meltdown where friends plead, “Put the phone down”—Why Me? Why Not. scans as a re-introduction, right down to its title. That’s hardly necessary, in part because Liam has spent half of his life as one of the most documented humans on Earth, but also because musical forward motion is a foreign concept to him. Ever since Oasis conquered the world in 1995, he’s settled for singing psychedelic pop tunes, earnest ballads, and glam-rock stompers, a combination that also fuels Why Me? Why Not.
The sound may remain the same but the vibe does not. Oasis were young men dreaming of escape, but Liam Gallagher is a middle-aged man who is happy to be here now; there is no hunger here, no yearning, just classy contentment. Familiarity is a tonic. Now, when Liam nods to the Beatles—“Once” opens with a melodic line reminiscent of John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy,” “Meadow” has a slide guitar straight out of George Harrison—it’s not a matter of arrogance: The fleeting Fab Four allusions are intended as a secret bond between Gallagher and fans. Similarly, nothing on the album sounds exactly like Oasis—it’s all too controlled and studio-sculpted—but not a song here would’ve been imaginable without the Gallaghers’ enthusiastic embrace of classic rock tropes. “The River” rambles along to crunching chords and swirling organs; “One of Us” indulges in a bit of nostalgic mid-tempo melancholy; “Gone” achieves a bit of cinematic grandeur with its spaghetti Western orchestration.
Oasis never attempted to paint with such a colorful palette, and the increased level of professional craft is surely due to the presence of Greg Kurstin and Andrew Wyatt, producers and songwriters who also worked on As You Were. Kurstin and Wyatt were enlisted as collaborators because Gallagher recognized the limitations of his songwriting; he has no shame in this—it’s one of the plot points in the documentary. This pair, along with a handful of other behind-the-scenes musicians, help turn Liam’s ideas into songs, honing their hooks so they snag quickly and painlessly, polishing the production so it gleams like a wall of mirrors. Every trick in the book is here: sawing strings, fuzzy guitars, stacks of harmonies, all with sequenced rhythms that gently push Gallagher right into the mainstream of modern music circa 2009. Maybe it’s not exactly modern, but it’s closer than Gallagher has been in the past.
The team of producers on Why Me? Why Not. helps refine Gallagher’s sonic signatures, but it also pushes him into adult-alternative territory. Which means that Liam, the last great rock singer of the 20th century, is now a pop vocalist. Age has softened his rasp, a change he modulates by singing with precision, not abandon. It can be pleasurable to hear him sing with such restraint—he’s turning into a nuanced ballad singer, as evidenced by the sepia-toned “Once”—but the shift underscores how his musical and emotional range is restrained by his adherence to the past. This fundamental musical conservatism still has its charms, but as he gets older, it’s beginning to be overwhelmed by nostalgia. Where Liam Gallagher once yearned for years he never experienced, he’s now pining for his glory days, a shift that gives his purportedly friendly music an accidentally pensive undercurrent. Despite the shiny, bright surfaces, what’s left unspoken is that Liam is not quite ready to admit that he’s already had the time of his life and is not quite sure what to do next.
