Oasis, review: Ridiculous, fantastic... and back where they belong

Telegraph

a day ago

The band was loud. The crowd was louder. Waves of noise crashed off the stage and bounced back as the 74,000-strong audience in Cardiff's Principality Stadium sang every word as if they were ready and willing to bust their lungs.
Song after song engulfed us all in an incredible blizzard of noise, distorted guitars, bombarding drums, rumbling bass and tens of thousands of voices raised in song.
'Yes, beautiful people, it's been too long,' said Liam Gallagher.
And so, 16 years since they broke up, Oasis returned as if no time has passed at all.
The hi-def screens were bigger, wider and more dynamic than anything Oasis would have dragged out on tour back in the glory days. But otherwise nothing had really changed. A band of men stood spread across the front of a stage, playing hard and loud. Their frontman stood in the centre, roaring at the top of his sharply cutting voice. And the audience was right there with them all the way, a mass extension of the band, punching their arms and singing until we were all swallowed in a big, rocky vortex of sound and community.
It was ridiculous and it was fantastic. These things are not mutually exclusive.
The first half setlist was 100 per cent proof Britpop bangers, one piledriving rocker after another, including Hello, Acquiesce, Morning Glory, Some Might Say, Cigarettes and Alcohol, Supersonic and Fade Away.
Liam sported an unseasonable green parka and sharp buzz cut, greying at the temples. There was no nuance to his singing, because there was no room at this concert for subtlety. He just cut through with raw power and vocal energy. Noel Gallagher stood to his left in a denim blue shirt, peeling off lead guitar lines, unshaven and grimly focused.
The rest of band (Gem Archer and Paul 'Bonehead' Arthurs on guitar, Andy Bell on bass and session players on drums and keyboards) were as anonymous as they have always been. Sporting bald pates, spectacles and studious expressions, they could have been a band of geography teachers playing a university reunion. But Liam has enough charisma for all of them, and Noel's songs took care of the rest.
When Noel took the lead for an interlude of melodious, semi-acoustic B-sides the crowd kept singing as if they were all classic smash hits. 'Thank you very much,' said Noel, then made a joke about the controversial dynamic ticket pricing. 'I hope it was worth £175 of anybody's money. Sorry, £210. Sorry, £250.'
I don't think anyone who managed to get their hands on a ticket for this reunion could feel short changed. Because really it was a reunion between an audience and their favourite band, a reunion between Britain and rock and roll.
Liam swaggered back for an absolutely storming second half of monster anthems, including a psychedelic stomp through D'You Know What I Mean?, an unapologetically cheesy romp through Whatever, an utterly immense Slide Away and furiously supercharged Rock 'n' Roll Star, with the whole stadium bellowing 'it's just rock and roll'. But it's not, it is something bigger, more universal, more all encompassing.
There were walls of guitars, walls crashing down, and the crowd singing like they were meeting noise with noise. Flares went off. Live Forever echoed around the stadium to a projected image of tragically deceased Liverpool footballer Diogo Jota.
Noel led Don't Look Back in Anger as if it might lift the roof off the stadium. Liam led Wonderwall like he was leading the loudest, lairiest choir in the world. Champagne Supernova blasted out into the cosmos on a rocketing lead solo.
It was very loud, it was simplistic to the point of banality and it was magically, exhaustingly uplifting.