After the ludicrous props (Rolls Royce, clock, phone box) that cluttered the stage of their uncomfortable Be Here Now tour, the year 2000 saw Oasis wisely dispense with the theatrics and concentrate on being the world's greatest stadium pub rock band. And so, with just three mammoth video walls for company, they toured the stadia of the world. Big as the video screens were, there was little to see. Instead the drama, tension and entertainment of the Standing On The Shoulder Of Giants tour lay in just two simple things: the band's straight-ahead rock and Liam Gallagher's mouth. Joyously, fine examples of both were recorded when they played Wembley Stadium. Musically, Oasis make good their claims to be the biggest and the best, with "Supersonic", "Shakermaker", "Cigarettes & Alcohol" and "Live Forever" rocking like the pub classics they are.

Part of the problem of being a traditionalist band is that you emerge with a sound that sounds fairly mature from the outset – by emulating classic bands at their peak, you wind up sounding older than your years and, no matter how hard you fight it, a little bit stodgy. Then, because you hold the classic rock tradition so dear, you wind up becoming bound to it, rarely exploring new territory and, even then, it's usually just new tonal, textural, and emotional ground, which is so subtle that only dedicated fans will notice – which, of course, is the only kind of fan that will pay attention through several similar-sounding records. This fate has befallen many bands, both British and American, many lesser than Ocean Colour Scene, who at least were fortunate enough to ride the post-Oasis zeitgeist in the mid-'90s, which meant they not only had some hits, but that they could cultivate a reasonably large fan base and that the best of their songs – "The Riverboat Song," "The Day We Caught the Train," "Hundred Mile High City," "Travellers Tune" – became part of the pop culture of the time.

Rounding up all the B-sides, demos and rarities Ocean Colour Scene released over the course of 1996, when the band was riding the crest of their popularity, B-Sides: Seasides & Freerides, for all its inconsistency, illustrates the depth of their ambition, as well as their flaws. Primarily comprised of acoustic material, including a demo of "The Circle" and a fine, stripped-down version of "The Day We Caught the Train," the 16 tracks on B-Sides can tend to sound a little samey, but when the group branches out to the neo-prog-rock of the very English "Huckleberry Grove" or to the funky instrumental "Chicken Bones and Stones," they sound better than ever, and a couple of early songs by the pre-Ocean Colour Scene band the Fanatics are interesting.

Always aware of the import of even their slightest movement, Manic Street Preachers place a lot of weight on their album titles and 2014's Futurology is designed as a conscious counterpoint to 2013's Rewind the Film. That record wound up closing an era where the Manics looked back toward their own history as a way of moving forward, but Futurology definitively opens a new chapter for the Welsh trio, one where they're pushing into uncharted territory. Never mind that, by most standards this charge toward the future is also predicated on the past, with the group finding fuel within the robotic rhythms of Krautrock and the arty fallout of punk; within the context of the Manics, this is a bracing, necessary shift in direction. All the death disco, free-range electronics, Low homages, and Teutonic grooves, suit the situational politics of the Manics, perhaps even better than the AOR-inspired anthems that have been their stock in trade, but the words – crafted, as ever, by Nicky Wire, who remains obsessed with self-recriminations, injustice and rallying cries – aren't the focus here. Unique among Manics albums, Futurology is primarily about the music, with the surging synthesizers and jagged arrangements providing not an emotional blood-letting or call to arms, but rather an internal journey.

This compilation of 39 tracks, rather arrogantly titled The Album, offers a good mix of current guitar-based pop, rock and indie with the bonus of Fatboy Slim's housey "Star 69" and Roni Size's "Dirty Beats" tacked on the end. This is the sort of album you could expect to hear down the student union bar with a range of songs to cover all bases for even the most fussy of compilation critics. CD2 holds the indie-rock lighter in the air with Coldplay's "Trouble" and David Gray's "Late Night Radio" sandwiched between tracks by likely lads Supergrass ("Movin'") and Blur ("Coffee & TV"). Less obvious inclusions are alt.country masters Grandaddy ("The Crystal Lake") and gentle folkies the Kings of Convenience ("Toxic Girl"). CD1 is the less easy-listening of the two with some rock guitar riffing from the Manics ("You Stole The Sun…"), JJ72 ("Oxygen") and perfectly hip Placebo's "Taste In Men". If you're not into dance and the latest compilation from clubland isn't your cup of tea, then this could well be The Album before a good night out.

For American audiences, the phenomenal worldwide success of Oasis was a little puzzling. That's because they only had part of the picture – unless they were hardcore fans, they didn't hear nearly three albums of material released on B-sides and non-LP singles. Critics and fans alike claimed that the best of these B-sides were as strong as the best moments on the albums, and they were right. None of the albums had a song that rocked as hard as "Fade Away" (cleverly built on a stolen melody from Wham!'s "Freedom"), "Headshrinker," or "Acquiesce." There was nothing as charming as the lite psychedelic pastiche "Underneath the Sky" or the Bacharach tribute "Going Nowhere"; there was nothing as affecting as Noel Gallagher's acoustic plea "Talk Tonight" or the minor-key, McCartney-esque "Rockin' Chair," nothing as epic as "The Masterplan." Most bands wouldn't throw songs of this caliber away on B-sides, but Noel Gallagher followed the example of his heroes the Jam and the Smiths, who released singles where the B-sides rivaled the A-sides. This meant many American fans missed these songs, so to remedy this situation, Oasis released the B-sides compilation The Masterplan.

Cast's All Change serves as the perfect antidote to the inner rage fueling much American alternative rock – it would be hard to imagine a more gloriously upbeat backbeat of a guitar pop record, one that appeals to the eternal adolescent in each of us. The group's pedigree derives from good stock, founder John Power having served time with another fine Mersey combo the La's. But Cast transcends the hackneyed expectations of its environment, structure, and genetics through sheer, relentless quality of songcraft and performance. No sooner has one wide-eyed, hook-infested injection stormed the synapses demanding total capitulation than another of equal potency lines up to take its place. Cast vocals recall Small Faces-era Steve Marriott fused, in places, to Suede's Brett Anderson. There's a soft-psych feel to several tracks (try "Sandstorm") that calls to mind "Pictures of Matchstick Men"-era Status Quo; Cast has clearly assimilated several volumes of Bam Caruso's Rubble and A.I.P.'s Electric Sugarcube Flashbacks series, without sacrificing its power-Mod backbone.

Extras offers 26 B-sides, rarities and unreleased tracks that, while far from complete (the wonderful "See Saw" is absent, for instance), is a fan's dream come true. This is a fans' album, to be sure, but for fans, the never-before-heard demos (like "Burning Sky" and "Thick As Thieves") have a certain spine-tingling effect, and the covers (like "So Sad About Us," "And Your Bird Can Sing," and "Disguises") are undeniably fun – often more so than the covers they chose to include on the proper albums. Extras is not a good introduction, to be sure, but for the converted, this is essential.

Heathen Chemistry is the fifth studio album by the English rock band Oasis, released in 2002. The album was written and recorded with a back-to-basics sound with a more rock feel to it; the more crude and simple sound differs from the musical grandiosity of their previous records, Be Here Now (1997) and Standing on the Shoulder of Giants (2000), being more comparable to their early work.