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.