Wherever I saw Oasis play in the 2000s, the atmosphere was reliably febrile and the band were often adversarial.
This was not a short-term relationship. Across the space of ten years I attended four very different Oasis gigs: Old Wembley, Paris, Old Trafford, New Wembley.
After the apocalyptic performance I revisited in part one, the next three performances were a little less stressful. Nevertheless these adventures with the Gallagher brothers encompass a raucous homecoming, a guest appearance by Neil Young, and a last hurrah in London.
And, on many occasions, Liam even decided to sing the correct lyrics to the songs.
Bercy, Paris – 22 June 2001
Improbably, less than a year after their self-destruction at Wembley I was watching Oasis in another European capital. And this time they were tantamount to a support act.
There was only one threat of nasal mutilation aimed at the crowd
The gig was a one-off show with Neil Young & Crazy Horse. The occasion was a father-son weekend trip to the city with my Dad.
Neil Young was one of the leading rockstars of my dad’s generation, just as Oasis were for mine. Within our family the musical appreciation extended both ways.
The show at the Bercy was notably less fraught. There was only half-hearted sniping between the Gallaghers and just one threat of mutilation aimed at the crowd (“Don’t spit on me, d**khead, I’ll bite your f***ing nose off”).
Otherwise Oasis were fast and focused. One could certainly sense a touch of deference toward the Godfather of Grunge, who topped the bill.
During the 2000 leg of their tour, Oasis had frequently begun their encore with a cover of ‘Hey Hey My My (Into the Black).’ This reintroduced Young’s classic to a generation of fans for whom it had only morbid connotations.
But Oasis didn’t play ‘Hey Hey My My’ in Paris. Instead they watched appreciatively from the side of the stage, as the old blacksmith retrieved his borrowed blade and hammered it back into shape
Old Trafford, Manchester – 15 Sept 2002
‘Your Ultimate Souvenir of the Manchester Gig of the Year!’ the NME blared on its cover story. A hyperbolic claim, indicative of how little competition there was for the front page (Death in Vegas? Cooper Temple Clause?).
The overall feeling at these raucous homecoming gigs – and throughout the roll-out of Heathen Chemistry – was of a ship being steadied after traversing some particularly rough seas.
The only noteworthy controversy was the band’s apparent refusal to include ‘Old Trafford’ on any of the promotional materials, for footballing reasons. Instead the venue was awkwardly rebadged as ‘Lancashire County Cricket Club.’
Seeing Oasis perform beneath an all-caps intransitive verb is something I just can’t abide
I once heard it said that Oasis don’t have fans, they have supporters. This comment was meant to invoke the tribal devotion of the football fanatic.
But in this context it felt a little closer to a raucous shareholder meeting where everyone is a bit happier with the performance, and sees some reason for optimism.
Yet there were still aspects of the production that this supporter was less enthralled by.
During this period, the band’s stage set was crowned with a gigantic sign bearing a single word: EXIST.
As a student of the English language, seeing a band perform beneath an ALL-CAPS INTRANSITIVE VERB is something I just can’t abide. (What does it actually mean, guys?)
EXIST felt like more worrying evidence of faux profundity creeping into the band’s material – a trend encapsulated by their latest single, a self-serious dirge that would nearly top the chart two weeks later.
Noel had always been a cod philosophiser but the ideas had never sounded quite so laboured.
Yet I still retain a happy sensory memory from Old Trafford Lancashire County Cricket Club. The immense relief I felt at covertly urinating into an empty cola bottle, so I didn’t have to visit the loo and surrender my prime space in the crowd.
To my eternal shame, and in breach of traditional gig etiquette, I abstained from throwing my container of piss into the crowd – a choice that put me in the minority in Manchester that day.
New Wembley, London – 11 July 2009
Although this took place in the same decade as the previous disaster at Wembley, it felt like aeons had passed.
The dilapidated stadium had been knocked down and rebuilt as a gleaming corporate cathedral at vast expense and following interminable delays.
The lager was flat and expensive and Oasis were again on the verge of splitting
This was a different Wembley, built for a different world. The preceding nine years had seen the War on Terror, a global financial crisis and the rise of social media.
On some level then, it was reassuring that a few features remained unchanged: the lager was flat and expensive, and Oasis were once again on the verge of splitting.
In another timeline, this gig could have marked the beginning of the band’s dignified transition into a Legacy Act.
Supported this time by bands they had inspired rather than succeeded, the band were touting a set list that felt closer to a greatest hits package.
In those twilight years of physical media, the Gallaghers were still enjoying chart success. But Coldplay had replaced them as the UK’s biggest rock export.
This time around, Oasis’s brief Wembley residency passed without major problems – in fact, it registered as a minor triumph.
There was something for everyone. ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ was sung entirely by the enraptured crowd. The band weren’t afraid to toss the odd rehabilitated gem into the mix to please the connoisseurs. They didn’t play ‘Little by Little’.
‘I am the Walrus’ concluded the encore in a hail of feedback and strobe lighting, and this time Oasis walked off the stage together. I was pleasantly reassured that it wouldn’t be the last time I’d see them play live.
A month later, the end was nigh.
