The eponymous debut album by this so-called super duo is a tough listen. It is sporadically entertaining as a piece of musical comedy – the bluster and swagger of it all are staggering. Squire squeezes out a succession of horrendously bloated riffs. Once upon a time his primary influences included The Byrds and psychedelia. Now he can sound like a pound-shop Jimi Hendrix or Jimmy Page. Gallagher spouts gibberish about chasing rainbows and wanting to get from Mars to Liverpool. One track is actually called Make It Up as You Go Along.
The whole thing plods on incessantly and somehow manages to make Ocean Colour Scene almost sound like Sunn O))). Gallagher has likened his brother’s solo output to Ronan Keating’s, but he’s not exactly pushing the envelope himself here.
The world has suffered enough. Noel Gallagher probably won’t discover a cure for cancer or broker peace in the Middle East, but one phone call might be able to save the world from another instalment of spectacularly bad music, especially considering the Roses horse has well and truly run. To quote Morrissey, another larger-than-life Mancunian, oh Manchester, so much to answer for.
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