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The Guardian
a day ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
What would British culture be like if Oasis had never existed?
In the peculiar counterfactual 2019 romcom Yesterday, the Beatles suddenly and mysteriously vanish from history, remembered by just one man. In the interests of a cheap joke, writer Richard Curtis improbably suggests that every band in the world would still exist in the Beatles' absence, bar one: Oasis. But what about a world without Oasis? As the Gallaghers themselves would admit, they weren't innovators like the Beatles, whose every move changed the course of popular music. If Noel had never joined Liam's band at the end of 1991, Creation Records might well have gone bust, Manchester City would have had less pop cachet, and The Royle Family would have needed a different theme tune, but music wouldn't have sounded significantly different. Today, new bands are more likely to cite the spiky intelligence of Radiohead or the Smiths than Oasis's broad strokes, and very few younger than Arctic Monkeys expects to fill stadiums. What Tracey Emin beautifully described as the 'brightness of things happening' did not depend on Oasis – from club culture to the Young British Artists, Trainspotting to Kate Moss, New Labour to Euro 96, the era's colour was turned up with or without them. Nor did Britpop flow from Oasis. By the time Definitely Maybe came out in August 1994, Suede and Pulp were crashing the charts and Blur's Parklife was on its way to going four times platinum, their paths smoothed by Matthew Bannister's rejuvenation of Radio 1. The commercial bar for indie rock had already been raised, up to a point. Instead, as the mania around their reunion demonstrates, the Gallaghers' unique achievement was unprecedented scale. They made alternative culture mainstream, because nobody else craved success so unapologetically: daytime airplay, No 1s, stadiums, the whole shebang. For some of their peers, this breakneck acceleration and magnification produced new opportunities. Oasis's example made possible the second acts of Manic Street Preachers, the Verve and Robbie Williams, before inspiring the formation of younger bands such as Coldplay, the Killers, Arctic Monkeys and Kasabian. It wasn't the sound so much as the possibility: music for the masses. Oasis made dreaming big not just an option but a necessity. 'It wasn't: 'Who's good?'' the Boo Radleys' Martin Carr complained of the cash-burning A&R hunt for the next Oasis. 'It was: 'Who's going to be famous?'' Bands like his, accustomed to modest commercial goals, were suddenly deemed failures if their latest single missed the Top 20, and derailed by these impossible expectations. Even Damon Albarn and Jarvis Cocker soon overdosed on pop celebrity and sought stranger escape routes. Oasis alone sought and achieved true mass appeal by tapping into a communal, aspirational hedonism that suited the times. But in shrugging off indie's underdog mentality, they also devalued its eccentric outsider's point of view. The Britpop boom scrambled the music papers' bearings, turning them into cheerleaders for what was popular rather than champions of what was interesting. '[Oasis] shut down the argument, shut down experimentation,' the artist Jeremy Deller once complained. 'They took all the oxygen out of the scene and became the only band.' Nothing summed up the new sports-like obsession with victory more than Blur and Oasis's news-making battle for No 1 in August 1995, which also established a crude and artificial class dynamic. Contrary to the rich and varied history of British popular music, the discourse around Oasis defined the only 'authentic' working-class music as simple, direct, white, laddishly male and aggressively anti-intellectual. Noel insisted (sometimes disingenuously) that his songs meant next to nothing – they were 'just about a feeling'. Oasis were a vibe, an energy, and one that lent itself to gung-ho patriotism. Contrast Albarn's sharp ambivalence about British identity with the blunt hurrah of Noel's union jack guitar. Oasis can't be blamed for all these unintended consequences but they were the giant catalyst. Today, the Gallaghers are in every 90s nostalgia montage – Liam in bed on the cover of Vanity Fair's Cool Britannia issue and Noel shaking hands with Tony Blair at Number 10. They remain a magnetic force, bending our collective memory towards them. So let's again imagine that Oasis never came to pass. What's different? Most of 90s culture proceeds anyway, only its busy diversity is more apparent. Britpop remains, but in a less anthemically populist form, closer to journalist Stuart Maconie's original 1993 manifesto of 'glamour, wit and irony'. Alternative music still crosses over but its growth is more sustainable and commercial success does not become a do-or-die metric. Tabloid gossip columns rarely overlap with the NME. Flags and politicians are still regarded with suspicion. The lows aren't as low – but maybe the highs aren't as high.
The Guardian
a day ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
What would British culture be like if Oasis had never existed?
In the peculiar counterfactual 2019 romcom Yesterday, the Beatles suddenly and mysteriously vanish from history, remembered by just one man. In the interests of a cheap joke, writer Richard Curtis improbably suggests that every band in the world would still exist in the Beatles' absence, bar one: Oasis. But what about a world without Oasis? As the Gallaghers themselves would admit, they weren't innovators like the Beatles, whose every move changed the course of popular music. If Noel had never joined Liam's band at the end of 1991, Creation Records might well have gone bust, Manchester City would have had less pop cachet, and The Royle Family would have needed a different theme tune, but music wouldn't have sounded significantly different. Today, new bands are more likely to cite the spiky intelligence of Radiohead or the Smiths than Oasis's broad strokes, and very few younger than Arctic Monkeys expects to fill stadiums. What Tracey Emin beautifully described as the 'brightness of things happening' did not depend on Oasis – from club culture to the Young British Artists, Trainspotting to Kate Moss, New Labour to Euro 96, the era's colour was turned up with or without them. Nor did Britpop flow from Oasis. By the time Definitely Maybe came out in August 1994, Suede and Pulp were crashing the charts and Blur's Parklife was on its way to going four times platinum, their paths smoothed by Matthew Bannister's rejuvenation of Radio 1. The commercial bar for indie rock had already been raised, up to a point. Instead, as the mania around their reunion demonstrates, the Gallaghers' unique achievement was unprecedented scale. They made alternative culture mainstream, because nobody else craved success so unapologetically: daytime airplay, No 1s, stadiums, the whole shebang. For some of their peers, this breakneck acceleration and magnification produced new opportunities. Oasis's example made possible the second acts of Manic Street Preachers, the Verve and Robbie Williams, before inspiring the formation of younger bands such as Coldplay, the Killers, Arctic Monkeys and Kasabian. It wasn't the sound so much as the possibility: music for the masses. Oasis made dreaming big not just an option but a necessity. 'It wasn't: 'Who's good?'' the Boo Radleys' Martin Carr complained of the cash-burning A&R hunt for the next Oasis. 'It was: 'Who's going to be famous?'' Bands like his, accustomed to modest commercial goals, were suddenly deemed failures if their latest single missed the Top 20, and derailed by these impossible expectations. Even Damon Albarn and Jarvis Cocker soon overdosed on pop celebrity and sought stranger escape routes. Oasis alone sought and achieved true mass appeal by tapping into a communal, aspirational hedonism that suited the times. But in shrugging off indie's underdog mentality, they also devalued its eccentric outsider's point of view. The Britpop boom scrambled the music papers' bearings, turning them into cheerleaders for what was popular rather than champions of what was interesting. '[Oasis] shut down the argument, shut down experimentation,' the artist Jeremy Deller once complained. 'They took all the oxygen out of the scene and became the only band.' Nothing summed up the new sports-like obsession with victory more than Blur and Oasis's news-making battle for No 1 in August 1995, which also established a crude and artificial class dynamic. Contrary to the rich and varied history of British popular music, the discourse around Oasis defined the only 'authentic' working-class music as simple, direct, white, laddishly male and aggressively anti-intellectual. Noel insisted (sometimes disingenuously) that his songs meant next to nothing – they were 'just about a feeling'. Oasis were a vibe, an energy, and one that lent itself to gung-ho patriotism. Contrast Albarn's sharp ambivalence about British identity with the blunt hurrah of Noel's union jack guitar. Oasis can't be blamed for all these unintended consequences but they were the giant catalyst. Today, the Gallaghers are in every 90s nostalgia montage – Liam in bed on the cover of Vanity Fair's Cool Britannia issue and Noel shaking hands with Tony Blair at Number 10. They remain a magnetic force, bending our collective memory towards them. So let's again imagine that Oasis never came to pass. What's different? Most of 90s culture proceeds anyway, only its busy diversity is more apparent. Britpop remains, but in a less anthemically populist form, closer to journalist Stuart Maconie's original 1993 manifesto of 'glamour, wit and irony'. Alternative music still crosses over but its growth is more sustainable and commercial success does not become a do-or-die metric. Tabloid gossip columns rarely overlap with the NME. Flags and politicians are still regarded with suspicion. The lows aren't as low – but maybe the highs aren't as high.
Telegraph
20-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
The Oasis books you should read before the grand reunion
This is what bookworms might call 'havin' it large'. The brief was simple: to read and judge – so you don't have to – seven new books about Oasis ahead of the Manchester band's hotly-anticipated Live '25 reunion tour next month. That's almost 2,000 pages on the Gallagher brothers. A big commission? Some might say. Too much? Whatever. I'm mad for it, me. Mirroring the seven studio albums that Oasis recorded between 1994 and 2008, a few of these books are great, some are patchy, and all come at their mission from slightly different angles. One thing is clear from the volume of tomes being released: Liam and Noel's reunion is a Major Cultural Event, of which Britain's publishers want a bite. Never mind that singer Liam once said that books are 'for losers' while songwriter and guitarist Noel called authors 'f------ idiots'. By July 4, when the Britpop rabble-rousers perform in Cardiff for the first time in 16 years, Oasis-mania will be in full swing. So take off your parka, loosen those Gazelle trainers, sit back and – as Liam never said – curl up with one of these. Andy Bollen's Definitely Maybe: The Birth, Death and Resurrection of Oasis (Polygon, out now, ★★★☆☆) is a readable history hung on the fact that its author was at the May 1993 gig where Oasis were signed by Creation Records boss Alan McGee. An 'I was there' moment, for sure. But Bollen, who was a drummer before he became a writer, refreshingly admits that he found the concert, a sparsely-attended affair at Glasgow's King Tut's Wah Wah Hut, 'unspectacular'. It's gritty eyewitness stuff, and Bollen's valiant tracking down of seven other attendees – who give their accounts of the night, Rashomon-style – is to be applauded. But Bollen dedicates seven separate chapters to King Tut's. It's a lot. In a somewhat similar vein, And After All: A Fan History of Oasis (Gallery Books, out July 17, ★★★☆☆) by Melissa Locker tells the band's story through fans' accounts of around 55 concerts, running chronologically. Early concerts include the band's doomed show at Los Angeles's Whisky a Go Go in September 1994, which descended into chaos after bandmembers snorted crystal meth pre-show, thinking it was cocaine. An ultra-wired Liam threw a tambourine at older sibling Noel, who stormed off to San Francisco. On the other hand, it's cheering to see how many fans ended up going for a beer with Noel; one devotee even found themselves hanging out with Kate Moss, Jude Law and Sean Bean. The book creates a neat, exhaustive, bottom-up mosaic of a generation-defining band. The debut book by Merseyside-born PJ Harrison – Gallagher: The Fall & Rise of Oasis (Sphere, ★★★★☆) – charts the brothers' story through the prism of their post-Oasis solo careers. The band split up in 2009 after Liam threw a plum at Noel backstage in Paris, sparking a terminal fracas. After that, in brief, Noel's solo career started stormingly then wavered, while Liam's started waveringly before storming ahead. There's plenty of juicy detail about simmering brotherly resentment, though Harrison also suggests that Liam's latter-day solo success made Noel see him as more of an equal and 'moved the needle' on the eventual reunion. Of the imminent tour, Harrison provides three fascinating nuggets: one-time Oasis drummer Chris Sharrock allegedly turned down the reunion because the wages were 'derisory'; if these dates go smoothly, the band are holding big venues for more shows in 2026 followed by a final 'lap of honour' of major festivals (Glastonbury 2027?); and the publishing rights to Oasis's songs revert to Noel this year, meaning that on top of the £100 million tour booty that both brothers may receive, Noel could bag a 'Brucie Bonus' worth £250 million from selling on his freshly-popular songs to the highest bidder. And yet, for all that, it's hard to ignore the fact that Harrison's book is curiously structured, with chapters about the Gallaghers' childhood and the band's early days thrown in. You might call it a bit of an Oasis soup. Shame there's no roll with it. Journalist and musician John Robb gives us the broad historical sweep in the chunky Live Forever: The Rise, Fall and Resurrection of Oasis (Harper North ★★★★☆), a 424-page epic that's unauthorised but comes heartily-praised by both Noel and McGee. There can't be many other books about rock bands that contain the words 'In the 19th century, British prime minister Benjamin Disraeli said'. Robb was part of the Manchester scene, and he's particularly strong about Noel's musical incubation in the city's Acid House clubs (the Haçienda and the Kitchen in the Hulme Crescents housing estate), his friendship with The Smiths' Johnny Marr, and his job as roadie for 'Madchester' band Inspiral Carpets. Just like Robb's 2023 history of Goth music, The Art of Darkness, this book feels like an authoritative inside track by one of pop culture's grand inquisitors. Before I get to the best of the lot, let's pause to note, amid the wall-to-wonderwall of serious books, two decent humorous ones. The first is Oasis Talking S---e, a compendium of the Gallaghers' most outrageous quotes (Simon & Schuster, ★★★★☆, out June 24). It's easy to forget the daftly macho surreal genius of the brothers' take on life. Liam: 'I'm getting up earlier and earlier, man. I try and beat the alarm clock. The alarm goes off at six, and I try to get up at 5:59 just to do its head in.' And there's a revealing quote from Noel stating that rock groups should contractually be banned from ever reforming once they split up. 'There's nobody, absolutely nobody, who's better the second time around,' he once said. Hmm. Then there's The Secret Diaries of Liam and Noel Gallagher, a parody by Bruno Vincent, who wrote the Enid Blyton for Grown-Ups series (Century, ***). The book is based on the fun premise that a mysterious cache of papers was discovered in a skip in Burnage, where the brothers grew up. The 'diaries' are dry, droll and historically accurate. But when the Gallaghers are famously dry and droll themselves, how much parody is really needed? But the best new Oasis book of all is A Sound So Very Loud: The Inside Story of Every Song Oasis Recorded by music journalists Ted Kessler and Hamish MacBain (Macmillan, out July 3, ★★★★★). I had initial doubts when I noticed what seems to be a pretty obvious mimicking of Revolution in the Head, the scholarly 1994 book in which Ian MacDonald unpacked every Beatles song in painstaking detail. Oasis are not the Beatles, despite what they think – Paul McCartney once called them 'derivative' – and few will have been waiting to learn the provenance of Mucky Fingers, a filler track on Oasis's sixth album Don't Believe the Truth (2005). But Kessler and MacBain use the Gallaghers' songs as jumping-off points for head-spinning anecdotes, interspersed with accounts of the writers' dozens of personal dealings with Oasis. (Both first met Liam and Noel in 1994; Kessler was the last editor of now-defunct Q magazine.) Crucially, the authors' own clear love of the music comes with enough journalistic objectivity to balance the zing of rollicking storytelling with the ballast of serious scrutiny. The pair have written something special: a book of wit and verve about why Oasis matter. F------ idiots.
Daily Record
16-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Record
The historic Oasis Scotland gig that got legendary band signed in 1993
More than 30 years ago, Oasis played a show in Glasgow that would change music history. In just a few months, Oasis will return to Scotland for the first time in more than 15 years. The legendary band will play three nights at Edinburgh's Murrayfield Stadium in August. Scottish devotees of Oasis will have their tickets secured and will be counting down the days to the three shows on August 8, 9, and 12. With anticipation at an all-time high, now is the perfect moment to reflect on the band's history with Scotland. The Daily Record is taking the opportunity to journey back in time to a pivotal moment in the band's history. We are taking a look at one Scottish gig that changed the lives of musicians Noel and Liam Gallagher, Tony McCarroll, Paul 'Bonehead' Arthurs, and Paul 'Guigsy' McGuigan forever. In particular, we are travelling back to 1993. This is when Oasis played their first major concert in Scotland. As fans of the band will know, their first headline tour—the Definitely Maybe Tour in 1994—saw them grace Scottish stages such as the Gleneagles Golf Club and La Belle Angele in Edinburgh. However, the year prior, they performed an impromptu gig at King Tut's Wah Wah Hut in Glasgow. Unsigned at the time, Noel and Liam Gallagher, McCarroll, Arthurs, and McGuigan had been gigging around England with no success in getting noticed. By a stroke of luck, fellow band Sister Lovers—who shared their rehearsal space—invited Oasis to join them for a Glasgow performance. Oasis arrived at King Tut's Wah Wah Hut in Scotland's largest city to be told they couldn't perform. This is because the 300-capacity venue did not have them scheduled to play that evening. Luckily, the band managed to persuade the organisers to let them put on a quick spontaneous set before the main act. Little did they know that one attendee in particular was exactly who they needed to impress. Among those captivated by the performance was Alan McGee, co-owner of Creation Records. The Scottish entrepreneur and music mogul recognised potential in Oasis and decided almost on the spot to sign them. The rest, as they say, is history. The King Tut's Wah Wah Hut website recounts: "Back in '93, a group of lads from Manchester known as 'Oasis' turned up to King Tut's and demanded to be added to the bill for the gig that night. They took to the stage, performed four songs to a small crowd, and unbeknownst to them, legendary independent label boss Alan McGee was in the crowd. "After signing to McGee's label, Creation Records, Oasis became one of the biggest and most influential bands in the world." Would there be hundreds of thousands of people lining up to watch Oasis perform in Scotland this August if they hadn't performed that fateful Glasgow gig back in 93? We will never know, and thankfully we don't need to think about it. As reported by the Daily Record, Liam Gallagher has recently criticised Edinburgh Council Chiefs. The musician took to social media to slam the Council after Oasis fans were reportedly branded "rowdy" in a briefing.
Scotsman
27-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Scotsman
CD Singles: what are the most wanted UK singles releases from the era of the high street?
Does anyone else remember the excitement of hearing something on the radio, then heading to the supermarket on pocket money day to pick up a CD single? Am I showing my age here quite badly? For a long time, when 'Spotify' was something you did with a Where's Wally book , our immediate access to songs was either a) taping it off the radio and praying the DJ wouldn't talk over the end, or b) picking up one of the many… many CD maxi-singles that gathered in music retail outlets and, eventually, supermarkets – much to the dismay of Art Brut . In the United Kingdom, a CD maxi-single was a music single on a Compact Disc containing more tracks than the standard two-track (A-side and B-side) CD single. It was essentially the CD equivalent of the 12-inch vinyl single, often offering more value or a more comprehensive experience of a single release. CD maxi-singles, like CD singles in general, were very popular in the UK throughout the 1990s and into the early 2000s, forming a significant part of the music market and singles chart. They were typically released in standard 5-inch jewel cases, or often in slimline jewel cases. Sometimes, special packaging like digipaks or card sleeves was used, occasionally with space to house a second companion CD single for multi-part releases. It's the kind of CD that many charity shops across the United Kingdom still have hidden amongst albums people have donated; and some of them are, according to Discogs , very much still wanted by users of the marketplace. So, what CD singles are people looking for? We've picked the ones that have more than likely either been passed down through the annals of time to find themselves in a charity shop or, again, are stuffed into the far recesses of your car's glove compartment. 1 . Pulp - Common People (1995, Island Records, CID 613, UK) Jarvis Cocker's witty and poignant observational anthem, Common People is one of the defining songs of the Britpop era and a true masterpiece. This 1995 Island Records CD single (often the "Day version" sleeve) is a piece of British music legend. Its iconic status means it's perpetually in demand on Discogs and a very welcome charity shop discovery. 🔎 4617 wants | Getty/Discogs Photo Sales 2 . Oasis - Don't Look Back In Anger (1996, Creation Records, CRESCD 221, UK) An epic singalong anthem from Oasis' (What's the Story) Morning Glory?, Don't Look Back In Anger is pure stadium rock brilliance. This 1996 Creation Records CD single is a cornerstone of Britpop. A true classic, it's a must-have for many music fans and frequently sought on Discogs, with copies regularly appearing in second-hand hunts. 🔎 4714 wants | Getty/Discogs Photo Sales 3 . Gorillaz - Feel Good Inc (2005, Parlophone, 7243 869882 2 5, UK) The Grammy-winning, instantly recognisable hit from Gorillaz' Demon Days album, Feel Good Inc is a modern classic with its laid-back groove and De La Soul feature. This 2005 Parlophone CD single is a key track of the 00s. Its widespread appeal means it's a common sight on Discogs wantlists and a fantastic find when hunting through charity shop CD racks. 🔎 4858 wants | Getty/Discogs Photo Sales 4 . Spice Girls - Wannabe (1996, Virgin, VSCDT 1588, UK) The phenomenal debut single that launched Spice Mania! Wannabe is a pure pop explosion that defined Girl Power for a generation. This 1996 Virgin CD single is a piece of 90s pop cultural history. It's a nostalgic favourite that many want to own, making it a frequently sought-after item on Discogs, and one you've got a good chance of spotting. 🔎 4887 wants | Getty/Discogs Photo Sales
