Unpopular opinion of the week: the Oasis Reunion is the worst thing to happen to the music industry in 2024. Since we can only speak about Oasis in hyperbole just now, let’s say it’ll also be the worst thing to happen to the music industry in 2025. If the tour actually goes ahead.
You can’t escape Oasis just now. This is bad news if you’re me or – you know – a progressive person. Your social media timeline probably looked pretty similar to mine a few weekends ago. It seemed like everyone I knew was number 123,456 in the Ticketmaster queue to buy tickets, waiting in the queue to get into the queue to wait to try for tickets or (very occasionally) jubilantly flexing about having actually managed to get tickets. The internet went into meltdown. Over the next 24 hours, the algorithms force-fed me meme upon meme about the Gallagher brothers, videos of family bust-ups caused by someone accidentally hitting the wrong key on the laptop and sending the Ticketmaster virtual basket into a black hole. Lots of overexcited media articles claiming the reunion tour as a historic event equivalent to the Moon Landings. Oasis songs instantly shot to the top of the streaming charts. Liam Gallagher announced a new clothing line with that most “King Lad” of fashion labels, Stone Island. It all felt very 1996 again and I felt very tired. And not because I’m nearly 45.
The Ticketmaster website right now pic.twitter.com/P001bKdCod
— Oasis Mania (@OasisMania) August 31, 2024
I am from the Oasis generation. I was fifteen, working class, from a dull Scottish town that all young people wanted to escape in 1994, when their debut “Definitely Maybe” was released. Oasis soundtracked all the significant events of my youth. I remember the music mag covers, the historic Oasis v Blur chart battle of 1995 that came to symbolise the Great British Class War to many, because Blur went to Art School and Oasis were Men of the People. I remember the general stress of people trying to get tickets to their massive Knebworth gig in our final year of school, when “getting tickets” involved not staring at Ticketmaster for hours in your pyjamas while taking strategic naps, but getting on a bus to “the city” with your sleeping bag, red Coke and Pringles and sitting outside Virgin Megastore all night.
I remember standing in a circle at my school leavers’ dance singing “Wonderwall” with my friends. I concede it’s a decent song, and so is “Don’t Look Back in Anger”. “Champagne Supernova” is ok too, even though nobody, least of all Liam and Noel, ever knew what the fuck it meant. But Oasis were overrated in the mid-90s, when they were ironically producing their best work, and they’re unquestionably much overrated now. It’s not just that they’re overrated though. They’re actually damaging: to the music industry, to society, to culture in general. Don’t worry: I’ve got an argument to back up this bold claim and it’s here, in several parts.
Oasis stand for regressive attitudes we’ve spent half a century trying to dismantle. We don’t need them to be romanticised now.
The 90s were a depressing time to be a woman in the UK. It was the decade that told us the feminist war had been won and simultaneously gave us Wonderbras, naked “lad mag” covers and a generally retrosexist culture that, when challenged, called you a frigid lesbian who didn’t understand banter. Oasis were front and centre in all this, lads in a self-created enclave of lads who never, throughout their career, namechecked any female artists as influences, worked with any female artists or championed women in any way at all. They perpetuated anti-gay rhetoric too: in their heyday they repeatedly, in interviews and even on stage, dismissed more gently masculine men in their lane like Paul Weller and Johnny Marr with homophobic slurs. There have been some brilliant memes over the past few weeks describing the reunion gigs as “Straight Pride”, which encapsulates exactly who Oasis speak to.
Even at fifteen, as a young woman and a lesbian (and a sense of humour, thanks) I sensed, even if I couldn’t yet put it into words, that Oasis couldn’t and also didn’t want to speak for me in their music. Nothing seems to have changed either: last month Noel described “Definitely Maybe” to Mojo magazine as “shagging birds, taking drugs, drinking and the glory of all of that.” To go from Brat Summer 2024, when female and queer artists dominating the industry in a way we’d never seen before, to Bucket Hat Summer 2025 is profoundly depressing. But then, another thing we learned in the 90s was that every wave of social progression is followed by a backlash, the patriarchy’s determination to hold on to the power they fear slipping away. Don’t fall for it, people. Truly, we are better than this.
Oasis are not the saviours of the underprivileged
Oasis are always romanticised as working-class heroes and criticism of Oasis as disdain for the working class. But Oasis aren’t our heroes. At least, not the kind that might actually lead us out of the wasteland of social injustice, that characterises the UK today. Yes, Oasis were working-class and they became successful without any of the nepo-baby privilege that it often takes to make it in the industry, particularly post-pandemic. What fans seem to have forgotten is, as soon as Oasis had a bit of money, they turned their backs on The People. They bought houses in posh parts of London, surrounded themselves with the nepo-babies of the 90s and hung out at 10 Downing Street, drinking champagne with and licking the backsides of the government at the time, themselves from the privately educated elite.
What Oasis actually represent is that peculiarly British attitude to social advancement, which we don’t like to acknowledge and is the greatest obstacle to the eradication of poverty: we don’t actually want everyone to be more equal. We want to scale the greasy pole of success ourselves, then viciously stamp on the heads of those coming up behind us, so they can never reach our heights. Then we want to boast loudly about our achievements. It’s ugly and it’s so quintessentially Oasis, reflected in everything they represent as artists. We can do better. So much better.
Nostalgia is a sickness, part one
A century ago, nostalgia literally was classified as a proper mental illness. Even now, research has found looking back on and yearning for some idealised past can have a profoundly negative effect on our mental health in the present. We become more susceptible to nostalgia as we age. In „Inside Out 2“, the character of Nostalgia is a little, old lady with grey hair, who witters on about how “those were the days….” and is told to come back in a decade when the film’s teenage protagonist is in her mid-20s. People seem to be particularly susceptible to nostalgia over music for some reason, in a way they would never perceive other aspects of culture. Can you imagine being really into food but being convinced you’d eaten all the great meals you were ever going to eat by the time you were 30? Or being a travel junkie, but ripping up your passport at 35, because other countries “just aren’t as good any more”? Or refusing to buy any more books when you hit 40 and instead just re-reading all the books you’ve already read, over and over again until your eyes fail you? People do that with music. All of us over 30 have that friend who takes over Alexa or the record player at a party, glass of wine in hand, drunkenly bleating about how music has been shit since some spurious year in history like 1996 or whenever they were a teenager. Or the friend who always posts terrible videos of the Muse concert they went to in the early 2000s, twinned with a caption like “When gigs were actually good”.
The Oasis reunion tour is feeding off and into exactly this type of nostalgia. As a 44-year old with probably more years behind than in front of me, I can’t imagine how depressing it must be to love music, yet genuinely believe there is no more of it to be discovered, no gigs worth going to, except those on the nostalgia circuit, that cost upwards of £150 a ticket and where you will never, ever hear your teenage anthems the way you once did. Because you’re not 18 anymore, and neither is the band. Luckily, no one needs to live like this. There are fantastic albums being released every week: read what remains of the music press or check out the Mercury Prize nominee list and you’ll find them. There are incredible live shows happening every week too and you can just go to them! You don’t need to spend 24 hours on Ticketmaster till you’re so delirious, you end up parting with £450 a ticket. You don’t even need to be coked up to your eyeballs to enjoy them, because the music is actually really good! But most Oasis fans truly believe Great Music only exists in the past, in large part because Noel and Liam tell them that. The Gallagher brothers can’t let an interview go by without taking the opportunity to denounce any number of other bands as “shit” and the industry as stagnant since Oasis split up. It makes for great copy for certain media outlets but a bitter, cynical narrative for anyone reading.
Nostalgia is a sickness, part two
Some garbage is being talked just now about how the Oasis reunion will revitalise the struggling UK music industry. It’s tough to be a band just now, and lots of kids do want to be in bands and play instruments. UK bands mostly don’t sell in America, where the big money is, so record labels don’t want to invest in them, and the bands themselves exist in far fewer numbers now anyway, thanks to the rising costs of touring and the slashing of arts funding in the UK after Brexit, Covid and the last Tory government’s 14-year reign. Even bands who amass rave reviews, major prizes and sellout tours, like Mercury winners English Teacher, have spoken out about their struggle to pay themselves a decent living wage. You’d think all this would concern a band like Oasis, who consider themselves the quintessential Working Class Band. They say too, that a great leader’s purpose is to find and nurture their successors.
But Oasis don’t care about any of this. Oasis have never knowingly lifted up any other artist, unlike other stadium-dwelling acts like Mick Jagger, Elton John or even Taylor Swift. They won’t have emerging UK bands open for them on tour – too threatening. Instead, they’ll probably call on The Charlatans or Shed Seven or some other indie also-ran from the 90s who were – critically – never anywhere as big as Oasis themselves. That vicious stamping on heads again. Nor will Oasis fans attending the gigs suddenly start buying the records of new British bands or going to more live shows, as has been suggested. What they’ll do is stumble home drunk and high and rambling on about “the good old days” of music, then sit in their house listening to Oasis albums until Oasis reform again in 2035, because they’ve got bills to pay and there’s money to be made out of nostalgia.
The principal beneficiaries of the Oasis reunion tour – and there is certainly a lot of money to be made – will be Oasis themselves, Ticketmaster with its immoral dynamic pricing, the massive corporate-sponsored venues hosting the shows and the UK’s network of coke dealers. None of it will trickle down to the smaller venues, where Oasis might have got their start if they were a new band now, more and more of which close their doors every month. At some point, the nostalgia tour circuit might be all we have left until we all die, and we’ll only have ourselves to blame. Nostalgia really is a sickness.
Let’s be honest – the shows will probably be a bit shit
Let’s look past the hysteria and instead at the facts: Oasis had released their best work by 1995. They had two decent albums. Two. The other five were at best average or inconsistent, and at worst just poor. Their live shows were always unpredictable in quality: a disastrous 2004 Glastonbury headline slot marked the start of their decline in earnest. Since they split in 2009, Liam’s solo efforts with Beady Eye have been dismal, while Noel’s High Flying Birds have produced nothing new, certainly nothing to rival those two albums that his former band’s entire reputation rests on. It stands to reason: when you’ve spent three decades in an echo chamber, genuinely believing yourselves the Greatest Band of All Time with nothing to learn from anyone, it tends to put a chokehold on innovation or personal development. Liam and Noel have long seemed so unenthusiastic about being on stage and indifferent to the crowd, that you wonder why they’re putting themselves through this at all, unless they really do need the money or their egos are much more fragile than their interviews ever convey. Or there’s something else we’re all missing. At Liam’s headline set at Reading & Leeds last month, he was shambolic and vile to the mostly teenage crowd. He took to X last week, a spokesperson for his age:
OASIS are back your welcome and I hear there ATTITUDE STINKS good to know something’s never change LFUCKING x
— Liam Gallagher (@liamgallagher) September 6, 2024
“SHUTUP”, Liam then replied to a fan who dared to comment on the post about fans being ripped off by the cost of the tour. Bless you Liam: truly we are lucky to have you in our lives, charging us through the nose to witness British music at its best, to hear your eloquent and respectful words. Maybe – and this is difficult to admit – in Oasis the UK really is getting the band it deserves right now.
Fancy living for the future instead of the past? Fancy doing your bit to make sure today’s young talent can keep doing what they, unlike Oasis, are passionate about, instead of having to pack it in and work in Tesco? Here’s five bands to check out that Liam and Noel no doubt think are shit.
Fontaines D.C.
The critically lauded but still under-rated Dublin band Fontaines D.C. might be five guys with a traditional set-up. But don’t be fooled. They’re astonishingly versatile, eloquent, cite Lana Del Rey as one of their biggest influences, and after four albums they’re still together and just keep getting better and better. They’re also lovely people. Glastonbury’s headline slot awaits.
Yard Act
Yard Act, Elton John’s favourite band, hailing from Leeds, document the subjectivity of the millennial man in unforgettable post-punk style, combining lyrics that are hilarious and sucker-punch emotional, often simultaneously, and earworm melodies in a style that is uniquely their own. On stage, they look like they’re having the time of their lives.
Courting
Liverpool’s Courting draw on the best of Britpop without any of its toxic underbelly. It takes a certain level of talent and charisma to play Reading & Leeds Main Stage at 12 in the afternoon and get the crowd of impatient Lana fans and casual, lager-sipping onlookers completely behind you, singing along to your songs that they’ve never heard. They even – unlike Liam at Reading & Leeds – sang “Don’t Look Back in Anger” and they sang it better than Liam ever does.
Lime Garden
There aren’t enough bands made up of women in this list. There aren’t enough bands made up of women in the UK, full stop. If it’s hard enough to be a successful band in 2024, it’s even harder if you’re not male. Bristol’s Lime Garden are the best indie rock band you’ve probably never heard of. Having survived forming and building a reputation over Covid, they released their debut album “One More Thing” to critical acclaim this February. It’s crammed full of smart, catchy indie hits, which sound even better live than they do on record.
English Teacher
Also from Leeds, 2024 Mercury Prize winners English Teacher are an indie rock band fronted by a Black woman, which shouldn’t be worthy of comment. Except that it’s so unusual. Vocalist and songwriter Lily Fontaine uses her standpoint to critique white male privilege in the industry on their debut album “This Could be Texas”. The critically acclaimed group of four even use their platform to call out the dire financial situation of new artists signing today. Imagine Liam and Noel ever doing that. Poles apart from Oasis in every way, they are the band that represent what the UK could be rather than what it regrettably is.