Oasis in Five Songs

The Hits, the Deep Cuts, & Everything Between

There’s no point pretending Oasis were consistent. The records prove it. But when they got it right, they got it right proper. It’s easy to pick the albums apart now, line them up against the ones that came before, or after, and roll your eyes at the excess. Fine. Do that if you like.

But here’s the thing no one admits when the arguments start. You don’t need the whole discography to get it. You don’t even need an album.

Five tracks. Make your own mind up.

1. The Hit – Wonderwall

What else were you expecting? Yeah, yeah, purists will hate it. Your mate will complain Noel’s lyrics are nonsense (can he even look at himself in the mirror for that "wonderwall" line?). Someone will insist it’s overplayed.

Fine. They’re right. It is all those things. But that chord progression could floor a room of strangers on the spot. It became a karaoke standard and a last-call anthem because it’s built to stick. You’d no sooner forget Wonderwall than your own name.

This wasn’t just a song people loved. It was one they learned. Every pub singer, busker, and sixth form band who saw seven chords and a capo heard the simplicity of it and got to work. It wasn’t kindly done, but it made sense. It didn’t matter where you were or what you owned. You knew Wonderwall. Your nan knew Wonderwall.

And that mattered. Then and now, because in a space mostly carved out by what came next, this was the one that broke the news that Oasis weren’t just a band. Wonderwall made them immortal—even when it had no right to.

2. The Banger – Fuckin’ in the Bushes

No vocals, no problem. This is the track that kicked down the door to Standing on the Shoulder of Giants, boot first. Forget Noel’s stadium-ready ballads, or Liam calling it in like he’s got the wrong decade. This was something else. Somewhere between the smeared memories of Britpop and the oncoming train wreck of the band's later work, they found another gear.

Punchier than it had any business being, Bushes didn’t overthink a single thing. That filthy riff, the staggering bassline, the propulsive drumming. It felt sharper, angrier, smarter. If Wonderwall wanted to kiss you goodnight, Bushes wanted to throw you down the stairs.

It’s not everyone’s cup of tea. It’s a track that kicks like a steel-capped doc hitting soggy pavement. That’s why it worked for Guy Ritchie films, boxing ring entrances, dodgy basement clubs. It was their attempt to be dangerous again. Did it work? Maybe. Did it matter? Nah. It still makes you want to yell something unintelligible. Job done.

3. The Album Track – Slide Away

If Definitely Maybe was a hurricane, Slide Away was the pause in its eye. The one that stretched every emotion, every pang of something real, until it snapped. It’s too long, too messy, but God, it gets under your skin.

This wasn’t Noel writing for Liam. This was Noel writing because of Liam. Liam’s vocal here doesn’t crash into the mix. It carries it. Moves it. You can hear the Gallagher brothers sparring and breathing through the whole track, with every chord and lyric pulling you one way or the other.

It never felt like a single, though. Couldn’t be. Oasis were plenty indulgent, but Slide Away somehow felt... private. Like cracking open someone else’s journal. Not the crowd singalong kind, but the replay-it-in-headphones-at-midnight kind. That’s why it sticks. Every listen feels like a discovery.

4. The Live Favourite – Morning Glory

Forget the studio version. You either heard this on stage or through a memory of it that wouldn’t die. That opening riff? Jet engine loud, still strong enough to reach you from the other side of a festival field. This wasn’t nice or tidy. It demanded your attention like it had something to prove.

Morning Glory wasn’t Oasis at their cleverest or most polished, but it eats live. Think Maine Road, or Knebworth, or even a pub gig with volume turned to “ankle-shaking.” Beer puddles on the floor, knuckles slammed against the railing, knees bleeding a little from the chaos of it all.

This wasn’t music for headphones. This was a spectacle stretched out over a half-lit crowd all moving the same way at once, screaming it through seatbelts and street corners when the night got too much. Morning Glory didn’t just move the needle. It battered it.

5. The Deep Cut – It’s Good to Be Free

Hidden away in The Masterplan, stuck between polished singles and B-sides that missed the chance to shine. Ease is the secret here. No build-up. No pretence. Just Noel pulling a jangly melody together and making it feel like he could’ve done it with his eyes closed.

Unlike the bigger hits, this one doesn’t try to explain itself. It’s three minutes of Oasis before the anthem machine got louder. A rare breath where the band didn’t sound like they were trying to mean so much. Just something simple, clean, and selfish enough to sound oddly... free.

You won’t hear it looped on the radio. It won’t make anyone’s “Greatest Ever” charts. But it doesn’t need those things. It just stops where it stops, somehow better for not going further.

Fade out

Five songs. Five moments. Just press play. Oasis deserves your ears, and maybe your heart too.