Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds In Boston Review

Officially, Oasis mastermind Noel Gallagher named his current band after a Jefferson Airplane song. But it’s not hard to note the moniker contains echoes of Paul McCartney’s second band. And where Liam Gallagher’s Beady Eye has taken the John Lennon approach of wiping the past clean away (reportedly refusing to play Oasis material live), high-profile Beatles devotee Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds were more like Wings at the Wang, folding plenty of old songs in with the new on Saturday.

In fact, Gallagher hedged his bets, waiting until three songs in before diving into new material. But “(It’s Good) to Be Free’’ (with its soft acoustic strums eventually blossoming into something more muscular) and the steroidal-Velvet Underground downstrokes of “Mucky Fingers’’ were hardly obvious cheats to bank some early applause.

Not that he needed it; the crowd was vocal and enthusiastic whether Gallagher played a stripped-down (but still full-blooded) “Wonderwall’’ or the Moddish acid-pop of “(I Wanna Live in a Dream in My) Record Machine.’’ The vigorous cheers were well-earned by new songs such as “AKA . . . What a Life!’’ (whose disco-adjacent drums and piano rode an ominous throb akin to Fleetwood Mac’s “Big Love’’) and “(Stranded on) the Wrong Beach,’’ with its guitars rumbling just beneath a muted glam thump.

A mere 12 shows into being a frontman after more than a decade and a half off to the side, Gallagher was fine, if low key, to the point where his muttered dialogue with the audience was sometimes incomprehensible in a way that had nothing to do with his Mancunian accent. His singing occasionally followed suit, as less-successful songs such as “Soldier Boys and Jesus Freaks’’ and “AKA . . . Broken Arrow’’ were not sharply delivered.

But if Gallagher’s voice is not as distinct as his brother’s, it was perfectly solid so long as he harnessed it with oomph. The aggressive, slashing “The Importance of Being Idle’’ sat right in his sweet spot, and “The Good Rebel’’ - essentially an organ-fueled “Mr. Tambourine Man’’ played to the beat of “Ticket to Ride’’ - was robust on all fronts. Besides, as he closed with the lusty football chorus of “Don’t Look Back in Anger,’’ he had plenty of assistance.

The Hours opened with airy sensitivity anthems that nonetheless had no lift to them, like the Script minus the teen-appeal crispness.

Source: bostonglobe.com