hanson.wtf

I came here bang out 2500 words on one of the best birthday presents I’ve ever received: the 30th Anniversary release of Frente‘s Marvin the Album on vinyl. I was going to talk about how it was the first album I ever bought myself, on cassette, from the long defunct Music World in Coquitlam Centre.

But then I realized I would never finish it because I would have so much to say about how important it was to me, how well I know the songs, and how they would be the band I want to see the most, out of every band in my 1200+ CD collection. I would probably bawl if I’m ever in the same room as Angie Hart as she sings the first line of Girl.

I would also have to talk about how they’ve more or less disappeared from my life, as their second and last album was released in 1996. Even though I was scouring the early internet for singles and EPs long after that for b-sides and covers, I don’t think I’ve actively thought about them much over the last 20 odd years.

Of course, Angie’s band Splendid appearing on Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a huge deal for me. I also liked that record, plus all of Angie’s solo work that I’ve listened to. But Frente as a thing was in the past for me, and not actively on my mind as a band that I missed. It’s just been so long since they were an active band.

When I heard about their reunion shows in Australian when Marvin turned 20 (?), it had already happened. At that point, I thought I had missed my chance to see them. I was disappointed, but as I said, having not been actively thinking about them an ongoing concern, it garnered little more than a shrug and “too bad” from me.

So earlier this year, when I mentioned to Danica about how I would like Marvin on vinyl, being on my nostalgia binge brought on by the 30th anniversary tour that Sarah McLachlan did for Fumbling Towards Ecstasy (which is the other album that hold this level of importance to me), I didn’t even bother looking to see if it existed. 14 year-old me would’ve been disgusted. 34 year-old me would’ve understood.

I soon found out it existed though: on my birthday this year, when I opened up Danica’s present to me. There it was. And IT WAS SIGNED! Splendid. Newly 44 year-old me was absolutely delighted.

But even then, I didn’t listen to it right away. I had birthday drinks to go to that night after work, and seeing a small group of my friends in person, something that is fleetingly rare these days, was still how I was going to spend that evening. Between that, the resulting hangover (well-made cocktails still slap), a pub quiz (more friends!), and some leftover work stuff I was itching to get done, I didn’t really have a chance until last night to take a trip down memory lane.

When I finished up my part of Eliot’s bed time routine, I went into my office and ripped opened the plastic. The cover and linear notes were familiar, but not exactly the same as the what I was used to on the cassette and CD. And I was really familiar with the linear notes on those formats for this record. Really familiar. I didn’t have much recorded music of my own when I was in high school, so the albums I had, I knew every part of them.

I dropped the needle on the record, switched the input on my amp, and put on the connected headphones. The crackle comes through. Just in time. And then Angie: A girl is the word / that she hasn’t heard. Oh I was so back.

It’s not that I haven’t listened to that song and album on and off over the last decades — I just haven’t listened to it with such deliberateness in a long time. That’s what this whole vinyl thing is for me, to listen to music intentionally as the only thing I’m doing, to literally put the needle on wax and wait as the right groove is hit and sound is produced. Latency is a gift.

The first time though was jarring. Girl sounded exactly as I remembered, with a bit more crispness on the vocals due to the listening format/environment. But when I was expecting the end of that to go into Labour of Love, it went to Accidently Kelly Street instead.

You see, this version was effectively the original Australian release, with the original running order, and the Bizarre Love Triangle cover tagged on the end. The US/Canadian version I was used to had a different running order, as well as a couple of songs that were swapped out. I was familiar with 1-9-0 and Out of Sight because I had heard them from other releases, but they weren’t part of the Marvin experience for me, so they felt out of context when they came on.

But a different set of songs and running order didn’t materially alter my experience. I was still listening to Marvin the Album with intentionality for the first time in years and years. And everything I loved about it and them came flooding back.

It was magical. Transcending. The nostalgia sweet spot was worked with precision.

So of course I googled them afterwards to see if they did a tour when this was release a couple years ago. And of course they did. Last year. Australia. I had missed the chance again. But this time, I was bummed. Really bummed.

The google tunnel led to their socials, and then a glimmer of hope: they were working on new music! So maybe, in 2025, a reunited Frente (probably just Angie and Simon Austin?) might need to do some promo for a new record, perhaps some small shows in their native land?

The dream is not dead yet.

…

Anyway, where I was? Yeah. I don’t have time to write that post. Instead, I’ll just say thing:

I love music and Marvin the Album fucking slaps.

Oasis was not a huge band in Canada. Wonderwall was a big hit, but they were largely just another Britpop band to all but the British people who moved here. Part of that is because they didn’t really become a thing in America, where they were more known for the antics of the brothers Gallagher than for their music. Growing up in the 90s, they could’ve easily passed me by, growing up in Vancouver, not materially more relevant than Kula Shaker or Spacehog.

But for me, that wasn’t the case, because all my best friends growing up were *super* into them. Like, “scouring the import bins of HMV or whatever record store was in town for the B-sides” into them. Definitely Maybe, (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?, Be Here Now, and the aforementioned B-sides soundtracked many car rides and marathon Dreamcast sessions.

In my small friend group, the release of Be Here Now, was a huge deal, even though everyone agreed that D’You Know What I Mean? was a bloated mess. When Liam finally wrote his first song, Little James, on Standing on the Shoulder of Giants, we all said “nice try.” I even knew the names Meg Matthews and Patsy Kensit without having read a single British tabloid. So despite where I grew up, Oasis was a thing in my life.

And the funny thing is, back then, I didn’t even like their music. I’ve probably said on a number of occasions about how their songs were simple and boring, or went on about how big of a asshole Liam is. When Manchester City was relegated to Division 1, and then Division 2, I laughed so hard. And yet, I couldn’t get them out of my life. The songs off those first two records, especially Definitely Maybe, were drilled into my brain.

Musically, trad-y rock bands just wasn’t my cup of tea, but a not-small part of my disdain for them was simple teenage contrarianism. All my friends liked them, so I’m going to go out of my way not to. But as I got into my 20s, my tastes expanded, and I grew fonder of all of those familiar songs. It got to a point where I couldn’t deny that their blend of straightforward songwriting, mind-numbingly basic lyrics, and a knack for melodies and killer choruses actually make a pretty compelling package. They don’t live up to the hyperbolic boasts of Noel and Liam, but as a mainstream rock band, they did what they do really well. I liked them enough to go see them when they finally came back to Vancouver in their later years, and genuinely consider myself a fan.

So when Noel and Liam announced they were getting back together for a tour next year, something in me clicked, and I felt compelled to fly All Around The World (heh) to see them play their native land, where they were legitimately massive, one of if not the most representative band of an era of music in the UK that was literally named for it. There are very few bands I’d do this for. There are many other bands whose music I like a lot better that I wouldn’t do this for.

That’s because to me, Oasis were more than a band, more than songs. Not in an “oh their music was so special to me” sort of way, but more because they were an integral part of my formative years, and the thought that I could relive a small part of it was incredibly compelling. On top of that, to be able to experience their reemergence amongst other people for whom Oasis were also an important part of their growing up, sharing OMG vibes, it’s not something I could pass up.

Make no mistake: this is absolutely a nostalgia hit for me, one that is increased by a factor of 10, as I’ve never experience Oasis as part of a monoculture before. In my life, they were huge, but for most of the people around me (save for my friends), they were just another band. No more important than Travis or Pulp. It’s analogous to (association) football, really, where being really into it here in Canada is kind of a weird, non-mainstream thing, but totally normal and mainstream over there.

Like if a British NFL fans goes to the Super Bowl: what if your niche interest at home was the biggest thing in the world?

Having gotten tickets to one of the Edinburgh shows means that I get to experience Oasis with a bunch of 40+ year-olds who also vividly remember Euro 96. And I suspect my motivation is not dissimilar to many of the people who braved the ticket buying mess and scooped up one of 1.2 million tickets sold this weekend for one of the their reunion gigs in the UK and Ireland next summer.

People didn’t fight the internet and fork out their hard-earned money in a cost of living crisis just to see some band play music that was big almost 3 decades ago. I suspect that many, like me, want to reach back in time to experience a piece of their past. It’s not (just) about the music, man.

So all of the online takes from people with no fondness or connection to Oasis, about whether the tickets are worth it, or whether they deserve all this hype given their uneven output as a band, are totally missing the point: all of us want to go back to 1995, to a time when Manchester City sucked ass (among other things), even if it’s just for one night. Artistic merit or worthiness doesn’t even come close to factoring into why we want to see this so badly.

It doesn’t really matter if Blur had a more consistent catalogue, or if Radiohead had a greater influence on music. They aren’t Oasis. 1.2 million tickets sold, with many more wanting to buy them, is proof that they are like no other band of that era. Being away for 15 years surely helped with the demand, but the hoopla grew organically, without much lead time or marketing. The demand is there because Oasis is just different. Don’t make this old man explain it to you. IYKYK.

Oasis was a thing in the 1990s. A massive, massive thing. At least in the UK. If everything about the 90s are coming back now, shouldn’t the self-proclaimed biggest band in the world be part of that? And for at least for a couple of months in 2025, they will be.