Oasis reforming is just the tonic the nation needs. While those social media memes declare that everything went wrong in the world after David Bowie died in 2016, perhaps it was actually Oasis’s split in 2009 that brought about the bad times, given the fact their reunion announcement has very quickly brought a wave of excitement and enthusiasm from, well, everyone, even former naysayers.
I was a fan but not a mad-for-it fan. I’d go to their gigs, have a great time, but I was never living through them as much as others so obviously were. But as much as I’m nauseated by the thought of middle-aged blokes around the country buying a new parka, affecting a Manc twang and getting “on one” from now until the band breaks up again, it does feel like the country really needs this.
Oasis may just act as a stimulus to an era of renewed creativity and hope. Maybe...
And what exactly is this? Not so much a band playing some big gigs, but a communal occasion to come together and experience a bit of the joy that’s been so lacking over the last few years. For all the aggression and attitude of Oasis, their music is all about putting your arms around someone and having a bit of a sing-song. The Gallaghers, inset, have always known this and sought to embody the escapism from daily life, and deliver a soundtrack which makes you want to live out your dreams. If it hits you right, it even provides the will to do so.
What’s weird this time around is that young people are excited about Oasis playing. In the 2000s, their shows were approximately 120 per cent blokes. Now though, this is clearly a generation-crossing phenomenon. While the old blokes’ Whatsapp groups are feverishly excited, they’re after tickets for their kids too. Oasis as a family band? Crikey. But in the gap since they’ve been away — yes, the Gallaghers remained but bands are a separate entity with their own power —the rise of TikTok and whatever youth platforms I’m not aware of have led to a proliferation of clips of their best bits, the early songs, the classic interviews, underpinned with documentaries like Supersonic which told the story of them up to Knebworth. The later years of waning powers and a less joyful hedonism have conveniently been erased from history. Now there’s a generation of kids who idealise the Nineties much as we who came of age in the Nineties used to idealise the Sixties. The compromises and dodgy records and overblown bluster of Britpop have been replaced with the myth.
What differentiates this from trite revisionism is the sense that maybe people are looking to make that myth a reality. In other words, the older ones want to taste that post-acid house communal ecstasy (in every sense) again, and the younger ones want some of that euphoria and freedom themselves. Music at its best becomes a means to another way of living, and Oasis may just act as a stimulus to an era of renewed creativity and hope.
Maybe…
If nothing else, it’s at least giving us something else to talk about beside mortgage rates.
Alien invasion
I went to see Alien: Romulus at the weekend. A solid seven out of 10 as a film, elevated to a nine out of 10 as an experience by the reaction of my partner. Every single jump-scare had her leaping out of her chair and clutching at me in terror. I was scared but her reaction was visceral. Then it occurred to me that this was because women’s lives are essentially extensions of the Alien franchise, fighting off facehuggers and fleeing grinning figures dribbling in the shadows. The original designer of the xenomorphs, HR Giger, knew exactly what he was doing with all those snapping probosces and penetrating tails, with Ridley Scott bringing in all those twisted “births” too. Look, this isn’t me being trite about this issue. I seriously want to raise the idea of giving all women government-issue flame throwers. I would feel much better about my partner and daughter going out into the world if they’re fully trained in throwing flame. It seems only fair.
