Before he cosplayed as a man of the people, Noel Gallagher was clearly taken with the psychedelic 1960s and all its influences. Hoping to capture this through some fumbled EPs which released sporadically before and during a global pandemic, one half of Oasis staggered on. Needs must, and as Black Star Dancing finds, it was a completely unnecessary experience. One of many. Do not chastise your Glastonbury audience for not listening to these droning wastes. More trippy psychedelics toned down beyond any sense of originality. Original for Gallagher, at least. He trades in the guitars for a moment and focuses on his dream of becoming some Ibiza strip DJ, or at least title track Black Star Dancing gives this impression. A disc jockey without the drop, instead, he pulls a microphone close and begins singing.
A fatal blow for this one, when Gallagher opens his mouth. At least the instrumental work is exceptional. One of the few joys to come from this slate of EPs, which Gallagher did as opposed to stuffing all of these songs together on an album, is the instrumental work. Shorter pockets of Gallagher are far better than the slog and marathon of listening to a whole project. Space out these EPs and the three originals on them, also paired with two strange and defiant remixes, and it is much easier to access the works of a man whose best solo effort was his first. From there he has staggered to and fro, looking for new ways to invent himself. Black Star Dancing is not the way to do it, and is filled with loose and unacceptably tight songs.
Gallagher is set to go against the grain of the very light psychedelic adaptation he has made. Title track Black Star Dancing may be a shaky but solid start when it comes to sticking faithful to the genre, but follow-up Rattling Rose is a complacent piece which suffers from the Gallagher classic of standard opposites in lyrics. Rising and falling. Check. Trips into space and never coming home. Fantastic. Do tell more, Gallagher. An uninteresting listen in every sense of the word, even the rising tones and sense of sway do nothing to salvage this track. He whips out the tambourine on Sail On, and from there, his The Coral-like tone secured, Gallagher has lost himself. Two remixes of the title track follow, but it is easy to label this the worst EP from the former Oasis frontman before it is over.
Releasing a slate of EPs is, with the context of artistic intent, not the worst idea for Gallagher. He was peddling something close to new ideas on Who Built The Moon? yet tarnishes the good faith put in this record by milking it dry. His flirtations with the United States come through once more. It worked for Oasis, why not a half of the band which propelled him to this state? Why indeed. A couple of whining electronics on the 12” mix of Black Star Dancing makes for a passable appearance from the track which is extended by a mere eighteen seconds. How much of a difference can be made in this time? None at all. Just wait for The Reflex Version, which extends a track already lacking in quality into a ten-minute funk-adjacent torture device. Dire stuff, the dregs of a discography compiled into a nearly half-hour EP.
Discover more from Cult Following
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
