JAN MOIR: Lily Allen's a dimwit braggart and I'm aghast at her casual callousness
Lily Allen sang and laughed on her Miss Me? podcast when trying to recall the number of abortions she'd had. 'I want to say five? Four?' she wondered, as if she were trying to recollect how many of her teeth she'd had capped.
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The Sun
37 minutes ago
- The Sun
Reunited Oasis were the best I've seen since 1997 – it's a big call, but I'm making it and here's why
Kentish Town 1994. Earl's Court 1995. Maine Road and Knebworth 1996. Now add Cardiff Principality Stadium 2025 to that glimmering list. 6 6 6 Friday night's unveiling of the unforeseen Live '25 tour is right up there in the pantheon of classic Oasis shows I've been privileged to witness over the past 31 years. They were deafening, bombastic, supreme, commanding and unleashed, with that trademark brooding arrogance, delivering the tunes we wanted but feared we would never hear again, dispatched with no nonsense or histrionics. This was the best I've seen Oasis since 1997. I know it's a big call but I'm making it. Let's analyse why. There is no new material to promote so this was a brazen playlist of the Oasis anthems - the most recently penned track they performed was Noel's Little By Little from 2002. It was if 21st century Oasis had been erased from memory and we were treated to a raucous 90s set, largely served from the peerless 1994 album Definitely Maybe and 1995's (What's The Story) Morning Glory? The Gallaghers granted us our deepest wishes and, with those ticket prices, so they should. The latter Oasis albums had some gems but their live shows declined as the years rolled by because they were laden with new tracks that didn't measure up to their meteoric early canon. Not on a balmy summer's evening in Cardiff, where anticipation and exhilaration hung in the warm air. One of the biggest worries ahead of these shows was Liam's voice. Fear not. As he sang as if his life depended on it, his vocals sounded more honed than they have for many years and eclipsed recent solo shows. Let's hope it holds. The outfits are the same and the swagger still there but his engagement with the audience more courteous and respectful, a contrast to the barrage of drunken abuse and gobbledegook audiences would often face. We were treated with a classy, gleaming, professional and more mature set by brothers on their best behaviour. I met fans from Japan, South Korea, Italy, Peru and Canada who had flown in to join us on this holy pilgrimage to hear Noel's stirring council estate hymns, which defined our wild youth, and served as reminder of simpler and more colourful times when we were blissfully unaware of pandemics, iPhones and TikTok. Outside, it felt like the build up to a World Cup knockout game, Cardiff's pubs packed from lunchtime and communal singing echoing around the buzzing streets. There's something about Cardiff when a massive event like this is staged, the gargantuan stadium rising from the riverside and overshadowing a city centre stuffed with thronging bars and restaurants. A logical choice for such an anticipated reunion, 16 years in the making. 6 Lager-swilling once-lads, clad in Stone Island, CP Company, football shirts and Adidas, dominated proceedings but there were also starry-eyed groups of young men and women present, being seduced by a Gallagher onslaught for the first time. We mingled with football managers Sean Dyche and Steve Cooper, Noel's ex- Meg Mathews and daughter Anais, Johnny Vaughan, Danny Dyer, Kasabian and Alan McGee. It was like the glorious 90s were back. Inside, Cast, who I first saw supporting Oasis in 1994, and The Verve's Richard Ashcroft set the tone with engaging performances, again shunning new material and the latter delivering all the classics from his band's creative highpoint Urban Hymns, closing with a peerless Bittersweet Symphony which felt like a headline act's encore. There was no messing about from any of the acts that night. Instrumental F*****' In The Bushes, from Standing On The Shoulder Off Giants, then exploded from the speakers, a video montage of newspaper and online headlines flashing on the gigantic screens, the first of many goosebump moments triggered by Noel's masterful songwriting. Witnessing the feuding brothers then stepping onto the sweeping stage, Liam's left arm on his older sibling's shoulder and his other aloft clutching maracas, is something that will live long in the memory, the Cardiff roar heralding the burying of the hatchet, the biblical brothers back together in front of their families and a worshipping congregation. What a moment - and one I felt I had to witness after documenting the highs and lows of Oasis for The Sun, thirty years of mad encounters, unforgettable interviews, reviews, run-ins and joy, seeing them perform in Tokyo, California, Manchester, Oslo, Milan, Majorca and even Exeter. This was up there with the best. We debated whether they would open with Hello, it seeming apt with a singalong chorus of It's Good To Be Back, but concerned about its controversial association with Gary Glitter, who has a songwriting credit on it. But it was impossible to resist, followed by that stirring anthem of brotherly love, Acquiesce, a song Noel tossed away as a b side, when his songwriting seemed unstoppable. 6 These spiritual paeans capture a moment in time and unleashed something within 74,500 souls, transfixed and on our stomping feet throughout a polished two hour set under the roof in this cavernous arena. Yet it somehow felt intimate - there was hugging of strangers, arms held aloft with lifelong friends and the spilling of expensive drinks as we joined the thundering choruses of Slide Away, Don't Look Back In Anger and Champagne Supernova. It felt like this was a climax to sixteen years of soul-searching by the brothers, a coming to the senses about their relationship, their inimitable band and what the British public want, even giving a respectful on-screen nod to their former drummer Tony McCarroll and the Water Rats venue where they debuted in London, on Rock 'n' Roll Star. A realisation that life's too precious and short for tantrums and feuding, this encapsulated touchingly on Live Forever, accompanied by a tribute to Liverpool ace Diogo Jota, killed in a car crash aged 28. Noel's fabled guitar solo pierced the mesmerised stadium and we were all 24 again. At times, the crowd - particularly on the pitch - seemed a little passive and static particularly during Supersonic which was surprising, something I don't anticipate being repeated in Manchester or at Wembley. I'd rather have heard Shakermaker, Stop Crying Your Heart Out or Columbia, a fans' favourite and setlist no-brainer over the years, than Fade Away but I'm maybe, no definitely, nitpicking here. Andy Bell, Gem Archer and Joey Waronker were workmanlike and took care of business but our tired eyes were only on two people. 6 There was less prowling from Liam, with bouncer Bonehead a barrier separating the siblings, between whom there was little interaction during the set itself. Noel dispatched Talk Tonight and Half The World Away with aplomb but the climax of Don't Look Back In Anger, Wonderwall and Champagne Superova is one of the great closing trilogies in the history of modern music. We were left spellbound after witnessing the biggest British rock reunion of all time, never likely to be eclipsed. I'm confident that the Gallaghers' professionalism, newly-found maturity and several hundred million other reasons, will see them sail through this tour, which will surely stretch into 2026. That would mark the 30th anniversary of their pinnacle, celebrating an era where music, fashion and art was better, life was less complicated and the world was a more contented place. That's the story.
Times
42 minutes ago
- Times
What the makers of the greatest true crime podcast did next
Few podcast series have been as deservedly successful as West Cork. A critical smash and word-of-mouth phenomenon seven years ago, like Serial it dealt with a historic murder, one that still haunts a community. In December 1996 the body of the French film-maker Sophie Toscan du Plantier was discovered outside her Irish holiday home. She had been bludgeoned to death. More than two decades later, nobody had been convicted of her murder. Yet for locals and the Irish garda there had always been one prime suspect, another 'blow-in', an Englishman still living amid neighbours who reviled him. What marked out West Cork was the thoughtfulness of the reporting of its husband-and-wife narrators, Sam Bungey and Jennifer Forde. This was true, twisty crime with journalistic integrity, a painterly sense of place and sensitivity to a community. Louis Theroux said it was 'possibly the best ever true crime podcast'. Patrick Radden Keefe hailed it 'a masterpiece'. It reportedly remains Audible's most successful podcast. If you haven't listened, do. So what have Bungey and Forde got up to since? In May 2021 there was a follow-up episode relating to court proceedings. But that was more than four years ago. It turns out the pair were recruited by the BBC to explore one of the deepest rabbit holes of our times: Havana syndrome. • The best podcasts and radio shows of the week If the term 'Havana syndrome' is a mystery to you, then Forde and Bungey offer a clear explainer in the ten-part Havana Helmet Club (four episodes on BBC Sounds and now airing on Radio 4). But for me the puzzle is why this promising podcasting pair chose to tackle a subject that is as well trodden as it is highly disputed. Still, it is a doozy of a story. To recap: in December 2016 American diplomatic personnel in Cuba began to report a wave of weird ailments. All said that symptoms had begun with stabbing head pressure. Most also experienced a sonic assault: a head-splittingly intense grating noise that often led to nosebleeds and nausea. When sufferers started comparing notes, they referred to the noise as 'the Thing'. In the weeks afterwards many began to experience vertigo, brain fog, migraine with aura and debilitating exhaustion. Quietly the embassy began to fly sufferers to the United States to undergo medical investigation, where scans showed signs consistent with brain trauma when there had been no injury. Meanwhile, the CIA sent a medic to investigate — who also became ill. Rumours grew about some kind of hostile action, possibly using microwave technology. But who would be the perpetrator? The US and Cuba had only just restored full diplomatic relations after decades of hostility. The Obamas' visit in spring 2016 was meant to have ushered in a more neighbourly, also potentially capitalist era. The Cubans denied any wrongdoing, but the US repatriated all but essential staff. Two rival podcasts, fronted by respected investigative journalists, went head-to-head in 2023. Havana Syndrome, from Vice, was presented by Jon Lee Anderson and Adam Entous, whose reporting for The New Yorker first brought this story to a wider audience. Their podcast investigated subsequent claimed incidents around the world and reported on CIA efforts to shut the story down — deemed gaslighting by those still struggling with long-term health needs. • Read more radio and podcast reviews The Sound, presented by Nicky Woolf (Finding Q: My Journey into QAnon; Fur and Loathing) opened in bravura style using spiritual music to invoke the Bible story of the Israelites' trumpets' blast tumbling Jericho's walls. 'Sound … as a weapon,' Woolf surmised. There was also an endearing gonzo episode in which he roped in a physicist pal to help him build a microwave device. So what does the well-narrated Havana Helmet Club have that these do not? Well, the advantage of following up. Also, for UK audiences, potentially arriving fresh at this story, an informative grounding in US-Cuban relations. This compelling podcast is well executed, but halfway through I am questioning whether there will be a smoking gun — most of their talking heads, including the wired-sounding Anglo-American they identify as 'Adam' and 'Patient Zero', have featured in others' reporting. While it is great to have Forde and Bungey back, this is not a podcast series that feels as original, or uniquely their own, as West Cork. What podcasts have you enjoyed recently? Let us know in the comments below
Times
42 minutes ago
- Times
This musical is a five-star sensation — it hit my senses first, then my brain
Just this once, believe the hype. Evita's much publicised balcony scene, in which Rachel Zegler's Eva Perón serenades the good people of Oxford Circus with Don't Cry for Me Argentina while the audience inside watch on a giant screen, is a joy. But Jamie Lloyd's revival of the 1978 musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice feels like a conveyor belt of highlights, one after the other. Amping up the revival he first staged at the Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park in 2019, Lloyd moves it indoors — and then blows the roof off. This Evita is simply sensational. That alfresco balcony scene is both an outlier and a hallmark of the boundary-pushing fun to be found throughout. Cameras follow Zegler as she swaps this Eva's uniform of bra top and hot pants for her more familiar white suit. It could so easily be naff, yet the clash of artifice and reality — why, there's a glimpse of the crowd standing outside the Pret next door! — makes for a great moment. It's as exciting as Tom Francis's walk round the block in Lloyd's Sunset Boulevard (with Nicole Scherzinger) but drilled deeper into the storytelling. Why? Because it's our sole glimpse of Eva, the wife of the authoritarian president Juan Perón, facing her public. She glances at the cameras to make us her confidants as she puts on her show. And then the cameras follow her as she strides back on stage to sing High Flying, Adored from the top of the wide bank of steps that is Soutra Gilmour's set. Kapow! • The best shows in London and the UK to book now The kapows keep coming. The remarkable sound of the requiem at the start, from a huge cast shrouded in cowls, smoke and spotlights. Diego Andres Rodriguez as our narrator, Che, striding around casually for Oh What a Circus, and ending up half-naked and bloodied. The sinuous, half-dressed chorus who bump, grind, crawl and tango their way across the steps, creating the world of mid-century Buenos Aires, telling stories with their bodies alone (a medal, please, for the choreographer Fabian Aloise). Haze and spotlights add to the sense of place, of forward motion and sexual desire. Is this the most sensual Lloyd Webber production of them all? It feels radical, yet also rooted in faithful, full-hearted renditions of some of his catchiest tunes. At the centre of it all is the American Zegler, 24, oozing starry command. Making herself strategically doll-like as she plays with the patriarchy, her Eva is always magnetic. Zegler aces the charisma and, not least, vocal power required of an approach that's sometimes more like a Beyoncé stadium show than a West End musical. All that notoriety for her brash comments about Snow White suddenly feels old. A star is reborn. • Read more theatre reviews, guides and interviews Is there collateral damage from Lloyd's ever-stylish, rarely literal approach? Yes, there is some loss of clarity, even if you always get the gist, and some of Rice's adroit lyrics get lost in the gig-level amplification. The songs and the story are less compelling in the more contemplative conclusion. The worst this ever is, though, is a truly great concert performance. It is properly sensational, in that it hits the senses first, the brain second. Did I feel huge amounts for our morally ambiguous heroine? Not really. Did I care that I didn't care? Not really. What a circus. What a parade. ★★★★★London Palladium What have you enjoyed at the theatre recently? Let us know in the comments below and follow @timesculture to read the latest reviews
