Oasis is back. And this time, the whole world is singing along.
The reunited Brit-pop act finally sounds like the classic rock band it always wanted to be.

Today at 3:42 p.m. EDT
Review by Chris Richards

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These were real rock-and-roll stars onstage Sunday night, though, reanimated and roaring, making it easier to imagine the experience of a child vacationing in Jurassic Park. Obviously, the brothers are older now — Noel is 58, Liam is 52 — but they seemed proud, poised, totally present, totally alert, their respective haircuts looking fabulous all the while. Joined by original Oasis guitarist Paul “Bonehead” Arthurs, onetime replacement guitarist Gem Archer, bassist Andy Bell of Ride and drummer Joey Waronker, the Gallaghers didn’t do much to sell their reconciliation narrative, simply beginning the set with a friendly chest bump and closing it with a congratulatory back-slappy embrace. During the 23 songs they unfurled in between, their most significant interactions manifested in familial harmony — searing on “Morning Glory,” soaring on “Slide Away,” a special kind of music that siblings can make only with each other.

And that has to be the very thing that makes all of these melodically nifty, relentlessly mid-tempo Oasis songs actually feel exciting: the brothers treating their fragile chemistry with such rough hands. Noel is the Apollonian songwriter-lyricist (most of the time), and Liam is the Dionysian singer (most of the time), and together, they’ve crafted these easy-peasy sing-alongs, but with one catch: The guy at the mic is shooting them through his sinuses. Back in those storied ’90s, after grunge had so thoroughly demystified rock music with its disenchanting noisiness, the Oasis boys got hungry for the glory and grandeur of yore — but to revive the British invasion, they had to pass through U.K. punk in the rock-and-roll time tube, eventually spilling back out into the popular consciousness sounding like the nettled Beatles.

Onstage, the band’s defiant posture was a physical thing — in that Liam Gallagher has one of the best slouches that rock-and-roll will ever know. Basking in its presence could make you feel like the Greek sculptor who figured out contrapposto in the 5th century B.C. The front man spent nearly all of Sunday night with his hands tucked behind his back, bending forward to the microphone with a slight hunch, the same way a shy cartoon leans in for a kiss.

But once those lyrics began flying out of his face, he transformed into a schoolyard tough, stooping down an inch or three to deliver his musical taunts, daring some diminutive rival to punch him in the teeth. Telegraphing menace and politesse, he made clear that he has long known how to carry the meaning of Oasis in the curve of his spine.

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