Latest news with #RocknRoll
CNN
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- CNN
Paul McCartney's 1985 Live Aid performance, his first live show in five years, was nearly derailed by a tech glitch
PROGRAMMING NOTE: Watch CNN Original Series 'Live Aid: When Rock 'n' Roll Took On the World,' celebrating the definitive story of how two rockstars inspired the largest global music events in history. The four-part series continues Sunday, July 27 at 9pm ET/PT. Paul McCartney hadn't taken the stage in over five years when he sat down at his piano to sing 'Let It Be' for Live Aid on July 13, 1985, in a performance that was almost totally derailed by a single tech glitch. There the music legend was – performing live for the first time since his post-Beatles band Wings had broken up, and his lifelong friend and Beatles bandmate John Lennon had been assassinated – to sing 'Let It Be,' one of the last songs the Fab Four ever released… and minutes into the performance, McCartney's microphone died. 'One guy. A mic and a piano (and) a mic for the voice. Really simple. What happened?' Live Aid organizer and musician Bob Geldof recalled thinking at the time in CNN's 'Live Aid: When Rock 'n' Roll Took On the World.' Geldof added that he thought, 'Oh no, it's going to be a disaster.' All of the estimated 1.8 billion viewers tuning into the mega benefit concert couldn't even hear McCartney, let alone the massive crowd that stood before him at London's Wembley Stadium. Then something magical happened: the crowd started to sing along and help pick up the song for McCartney. But it wasn't just the crowd who saw that McCartney needed help, either. 'There were a bunch of people standing around and either Pete (Townshend, of The Who) or David (Bowie) said to me, 'Come on, let's help him.' Literally if you can think of a moment where 'I am not worthy' is beyond true, it's that moment,' Geldof recalled. Townshend, Bowie, Geldof and singer Alison Moyet huddled behind McCartney on stage to help him sing the song's final verses when the microphones started to work again, allowing the impromptu quintet – along with the singing Wembley crowd – to complete the song. Afterward, Townshend and McCartney hoisted Geldof on their shoulders before the Wembley Stadium headliners, including George Michael, Bono, members of The Who, Bowie, McCartney, Queen and many more, all joined together on stage to sing Band Aid's 'Do They Know It's Christmas' to close out the show. The Live Aid benefit was organized by musicians Geldof and Midge Ure to draw attention to a famine in Ethiopia. It spanned multiple locations, drew nearly two billion viewers around the world and raised more than $125 million for relief efforts. While Geldof had already secured a lineup of the most famous and revered rock 'n roll musicians for Live Aid, he said in an interview with Ultimate Classic Rock earlier this month that he felt he needed a Beatle to participate and wrote McCartney a letter at the time outlining his case, asking him to play one song at the end of the show. 'I knew he must get a hundred requests to do things, but I really felt like the program would not be complete without him there. I was not writing to Paul McCartney, the man, I said, but to PAUL MCCARTNEY, the phenomenon,' Geldof explained. 'If he played, millions would watch who would not otherwise watch. That would mean money would come in that would not otherwise come in.' McCartney and his band Wings hadn't performed since 1979's Concerts for the People of Kampuchea, and shortly thereafter disbanded in 1981. McCartney hadn't taken the stage after that but did continue to release new music over the next few years. So when Geldof approached him about Live Aid, McCartney recalled telling him, 'I can't Bob, I haven't got a band together now.' Geldof, according to McCartney, didn't find that to be a problem at all, telling him, 'Well, you just sit at the piano and play your own number.' Ultimately, McCartney agreed. 'I just had to come. Simple as that,' McCartney said, adding that Geldof was also the person who chose the song that McCartney would sing. 'He's running the whole bloody show!' Geldof told Ultimate Classic Rock that 'there is a hierarchy in rock 'n' roll,' with the Beatles being at the top. 'So he goes on, one song, to give us the benediction, to give us the Beatles imprimatur, and of course it's 'Let It Be,' which I had asked him to do.' Live Aid wound up not just being McCartney's return for a one-off performance. He's been touring regularly ever since – even up until today, as McCartney, now 83, is set to continue his Get Back tour in the US this fall. Turns out, the legendary musician isn't quite ready to just let it be.
Telegraph
18-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
£300 to see Elvis perform live? This immersive show is not worth a tenth of the price
The King of Rock 'n' Roll is hardly an underexploited figure when it comes to depictions of his life and music, most recently in Baz Luhrmann's blockbuster biopic. Still, when the production company Layered Reality announced that they would be putting on a 'brand new interactive experience' at the Excel Centre in London with Elvis at its heart, it was suggested that cutting-edge AI and holographic imagery would allow excited audiences to get up close and personal with the Memphis hip-thruster himself as never before. However, if audiences have been expecting Abba Voyage-esque technical wizardry, they are likely to be disappointed. I was unable to discern any sign of hologram effects in this show. Instead, all you get is a limp assembly of video, actors, a live band and indifferently recreated sets, at high prices. The central conceit, if that's not too grandiose a term, is that the audience has been corralled at short notice for a recreation of Elvis's 1968 comeback special, when he performed live on NBC. This was once rumoured to be the centrepiece of the performance – Elvis resurrected via the latest in AI and three-dimensional video – but this has not quite taken place. Instead, spectators are firstly shown an indifferent recreation of an NBC studio backstage, which might as well be labelled 'selfie opportunity'; there is no information about anything, just influencer-bait. The room comes festooned with large, cheap-looking boxes with memorabilia of mugs and key rings. It is not clear if this is a satire on the mass merchandising of Elvis, or simply gift shop memorabilia that has been left out too long. Then the show begins proper, as an actor playing Elvis's childhood friend Sam Bell leads the audience through a sanitised, tedious account of Presley's coming-of-age in rural Mississippi, described in the clichéd script as 'the only place in the country that you can hear the music come from soul and yearning.' After an interval, complete with opportunities to buy blue-tinted cocktails in a themed bar, it's straight into an underwhelming partial recreation of the 1968 special, complete with three musicians and Elvis videos that you can probably find mostly on YouTube. All of this starts at £75 a ticket; if you want the 'If I Can Dream' Super VIP package, it will set you back £300. It is not worth a tenth of the price. Although there are hundreds of people credited for Elvis Evolution, from a revolving cast of actors to two separate live bands to the technological types responsible for what little pizzazz there is, the overall impression is of something rushed and cheap, flung together once the approval of the Presley estate had been obtained, and designed to appeal to only the most committed super-fans. As I fled through the gift shop, looking suspiciously at the £35 T-shirts around me, the words 'we're caught in a trap' most certainly came to mind. At the end, we are solemnly informed, 'None of us knew this at the time, but [Elvis's] death wasn't the end of his music.' If this underwhelming show is to be the King's epitaph, he may have wished the whole industry died with him in 1977.
The Guardian
04-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘They made me feel I could do something with my life': indie music legends pick their favourite Oasis songs
There are a lot of similarities between us and Oasis: two brothers in the band, Creation Records, working-class kids, guitar band, etc. In the mid-90s, we couldn't get arrested and had to watch their meteoric rise, but I couldn't dislike the great music. Rock 'n' Roll Star was on a compilation tape on the ill-fated US tour when we broke up. We'd had a punch-up on stage at the House of Blues in Los Angeles and back in my hotel room we were hanging around with a bunch of druggies. I was thinking 'Where did it all go wrong?' when this song came on. I knew I'd remember that moment for the rest of my life. To me, Rock 'n' Roll Star is like Johnny Rotten singing with Slade. It's punk rock, but in 1994. I love the self-belief: Noel [Gallagher] wrote it before he was a rock'n'roll star but knew it was gonna happen. The difference between the Mary Chain and Oasis is that when we reformed we'd buried the hatchet a good few years before we got back together. I'm not sure if they have, but it used to amaze people how William [Reid] and I could be screaming with hatred at each other in the studio, then 10 minutes later it would be: 'Do you want a cup of tea?' It may come as a surprise to people that I've chosen this song, but I think it's a great example of Oasis doing the thing they do so well. Even though the chorus hook is 'And I get so high I just can't feel it' – a classic Oasis line that only Noel could come up with and Liam could pull off – the melodic hook that makes it so definitive is the bit that follows: 'In and out my brain / Running through my vein / You're my sunshine, you're my rain.' A 'post-chorus chorus' is something that Noel does often and I've never heard in other people's songs. When they recorded The Hindu Times in Olympic Studios, I told Noel it was really good and he kind of shrugged. The next thing, it was No 1. At about the same time I watched from the side of the stage as they played it at the Manchester Apollo. I couldn't work out if what I was seeing was a band totally at one with their audience or so elevated that they were on another plane. It was both, and I thought to myself, 'This is what rock'n'roll means.' I'm not proud of this, but I broke the news of the Oasis split. I was on the same bill as them in Paris [in 2009] and being young and naive I took it on myself to tell my Twitter followers what had happened ['Oasis cancelled again with one minute to stage time! Liam smashed Noel's guitar, huuuge fight']. By the time we got to the hotel it was headline news all over the world. My brother and his friends had spent all their money to come over to see them and were devastated. It felt like the end of an era. When I'd started going out with my sisters, pretending I was 18, I'd heard Acquiesce in an indie club called the Attic [in Glasgow] and I've listened to it ever since. When I hear it now, I always picture a massive crowd singing the words back at the band: it captures that feeling of being at a concert and everyone feeling united. Oasis started everything for me. Two brothers of Irish origin scrap like fuck: that was me and my brother. A few years later me and Chris [brother] ended up having a scrap in their dressing room at Wembley in front of Noel and Kate Moss and all these A-listers. It was as if life had gone full circle. The other side of Oasis that people miss is the quiet, sad, loner aspect to Noel's writing. It's in Talk Tonight, Going Nowhere, Underneath the Sky, Half the World Away … and Rockin' Chair is probably the best example. 'I'm older than I wish to be / This town holds no more for me' is Noel, in his bedroom, hating where he's living and fed up with his life. I totally get that and when Noel gets in that mood he's one of the best songwriters ever. The reunion feels like your mam and dad getting back together. People have moaned about dynamic pricing and such, but in very divisive times they're gonna make millions of people very happy. Live Forever sounds so at odds with it's time: 1994. I find it incredible that someone could wrap a 'fuck you' inside a song so openly positive. In the wreckage left behind by Thatcher's Britain and the shadow of Kurt Cobain's pain, Noel wrote an insolent, unapologetic love letter of self-belief from a place of nothing to lose, against a generation of moaners who have everything and still find reasons to complain. The song is written to step over the corpses of the past, unearthing the flag of romance others have tried to bury. It's a lesson in (working) class. The kind of optimism they summon is believable because it's not polished or corporate. It's radical. They're not promising a future, they're daring you to want one. Acquiesce features Liam and Noel singing, which is unusual, but for me this song almost reads like a Bhajan – a [Hindu] devotional song – or a Khajana, where the lyric will be sung and the audience will sing it back. 'I don't know what it is that makes me feel alive / I don't know how to wake the things that sleep inside / I only wanna see the light that shines behind your eyes' … that's deep and questioning. Then the chorus: 'Because we need each other / We believe in one another / And I know we're going to uncover / What's sleeping in our soul.' Even aged 13 I realised that what was being communicated was similar to the mystical and devotional poetry that I was surrounded by growing up [in Venezuela] with parents who were yogis. Oasis have been pigeonholed as working-class lads, but they sing about a deep spiritual longing, very similar to what was in those ancient books. I said hello to Noel in passing when he was working as a roadie for Inspiral Carpets, but then when I heard Oasis's music it just blew me away. When I was young, we had a transistor radio that all the hits came out of: the Beatles, the Stones and so on. Years later I was standing in a garage near my mum's when Don't Look Back in Anger came on their little radio and stopped me dead in my tracks like when I was a kid. Noel sort of reversed the David Bowie song, Look Back in Anger, to say 'look forward'. I love that attitude. My brother Simon – who passed away in 2021 – was a massive influence on me and I remember us seeing a picture of Liam in the 90s and thinking 'Who's that guy?' Soon afterwards, Oasis changed the landscape of Manchester. Suddenly every night there were lads on stage trying to be the next Oasis. When I stood on the balcony at the Hacienda for the launch of Definitely Maybe, I thought Liam caught my eye. In fact, he was looking up at [the Lemonheads'] Evan Dando, who was standing next to me, but I'd always come away from Oasis gigs feeling I could do something with my life. Supersonic is about that: 'I need to be myself / I can't be no one else …' The line 'I'm feeling supersonic / Give me gin and tonic' epitomises the swagger they had. When I was in London recording my debut album, Liam swaggered into the Met Bar. It was the first time we'd met, but we ended up in a room with 10 lads on a stag do playing guitars and singing songs. There was a panic at the time because Liam had gone 'missing', but all the time he was with me. When my dad died, he left me his Les Paul guitar. Noel played one, too, and when I was 15 I got it out from under Mum's bed, took it to school and learned Roll With It. Oasis were my gateway into rock'n'roll, and lately the Kooks have covered She's Electric. The lyrics are like a conversation with a friend but through the medium of this beautiful, transportive song, sung with such meaning. We've supported Noel and Liam separately and I don't think I've been as nervous in my life. When something's that deeply embedded, you become the teenager again. When I was at art school in Glasgow everything appealed to me about Oasis – working-class guys who'd got signed after a gig in King Tut's Wah Wah Hut – and once I heard Live Forever I was deeply in love with them. Then suddenly we were touring and spending a lot of time with them. On stage, Liam was very 'don't you fuck with me', but off stage he was a lovely guy. That thousand-yard stare on stage is a cover for doing one of the most vulnerable things a person can do: getting up there and singing. Digsy's Dinner is Oasis at their most unvarnished. It's aspirational: he's singing about being in a bad situation but 'What a life it could be / If you could come to mine for tea … We'll have lasagne'. The simple beauty of that speaks to me, and I love the way the melody explodes when it gets to 'These could be the best days of our lives'. It's an odd song and the runt of the Definitely Maybe litter for some people, but for me it's got everything. Stand By Me is the first Oasis song I became obsessed with. It still gives me full body chills listening to it. All the pieces just seem to fit together perfectly and simply, but it takes so much skill to be able to do that. I never knew that the opening line, 'Made a meal and threw it up on Sunday', was about Noel giving himself food poisoning [after his mother told him to 'cook yourself a proper Sunday dinner' when he moved to London] but melodically the song changed my life. Their songs are so well done that they kinda sneak into your head. Even now when I'm writing songs I think: 'Oh, is that a touch of Oasis?' I find them impossible not to borrow from in some way. My dad had an Oasis live CD in the car when I was 13 and from then on they were my favourite band: massive melodies and a real drive to the songs. Gurriers – a Dublin word for 'unruly young men' – fits with how rough and ready Oasis were at the time, like the story about them getting arrested on the ferry [to the Netherlands] for fighting. Definitely Maybe is full of attitude, but Slide Away has always made me emotional. The whole feeling is wanting to connect with someone, and if it's just us against the world we'll figure it out … but once you realise it's written in the context of a break up [Noel and first fiancee Louise Jones] it's gut-wrenching. There's a bit in the Oasis: Supersonic documentary about a woman and her brother who spent the weekend watching them at Knebworth and singing along together, then he died a few months later. That's always stuck with me: how so many of our relationships with friends or family are bound up by music. Champagne Supernova was one of the first things I learned to play on guitar. It's a masterpiece in the way it's put together: a classic structure, then another part and then another, like a double bridge. Lyrically, it's reflective and then has that almost tongue-in-cheek 'Someday you will find me beneath a champagne supernova …' bit. It's just beautiful. Oasis songs always sound as if they have been written in minutes but are like everything you've ever heard and loved before, mixed together. I've no idea what a Wonderwall is, but for me this song has soundtracked iconic arms-round-shoulders moments at the end of family weddings and school discos. It sums up that universal experience we have with music, and taught a generation (including myself) how to play guitar and that songs can be basic and instinctive and still feel huge and meaningful. Every guitarist will have a relationship to the opening chords of Wonderwall – whether they love it or hate it, they will know how to play it. When I was 18 or 19, I was a cleaner at a rest home and would roam around with headphones on, soaking up the first three Oasis albums. When Adam [Slack, guitar] and I started playing we used to do Acquiesce, Rock 'n' Roll Star and Cigarettes & Alcohol, which we've played in the Struts many times. Roll With It is my quintessential go-to Oasis song. Lyrically and sonically it encapsulates what they're about. It starts off quietly then hits you with this Chieftain tank of a groove. This was the song in the infamous chart battle with Blur's Country House and kinda says 'You're either with us or against us'. They lost the battle [Roll With It reached No 2] but won the war in terms of subsequent popularity. To me, the way they chose Roll With It knowing they had Wonderwall or Don't Look Back in Anger in the locker is incredibly brave and brilliantly cocky. In the 90s, New York was a melting pot of music and, however unlikely it may seem, Britpop felt like an intense wave that reached the city. Even in the hip-hop scene we were obsessed with Oasis. Two gorgeous brothers, quintessentially British, punching each other – and they made amazing pop music. What's not to love? To me they felt like a new version of the Beatles, Stones and Led Zeppelin albums my dad used to play, but filtered through the rich history of Manchester music such as the Stone Roses and Happy Mondays. Champagne Supernova just makes me feel good inside in ways I can't explain. I don't get high now, but back then we loved to sing 'Where were you when we were getting high?' as we were doing just that. We went to France with Oasis when we were both starting off, which was pretty wild. They were at the centre of a media storm and made sure they lived up to it, although they were really nice guys. In 1994, Echobelly and Oasis were playing New York clubs and went to each other's gigs. I remember standing right at the front when Liam smiled at me, and Rock 'n' Roll Star just epitomises the energy of that moment, and those times. Who joins a band and doesn't want to be a rock'n'roll star? Oasis make their long-awaited comeback at Cardiff's Principality Stadium on 4 and 5 July, then tour.
The Guardian
04-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘They made me feel I could do something with my life': indie music legends pick their favourite Oasis songs
There are a lot of similarities between us and Oasis: two brothers in the band, Creation Records, working-class kids, guitar band, etc. In the mid-90s, we couldn't get arrested and had to watch their meteoric rise, but I couldn't dislike the great music. Rock 'n' Roll Star was on a compilation tape on the ill-fated US tour when we broke up. We'd had a punch-up on stage at the House of Blues in Los Angeles and back in my hotel room we were hanging around with a bunch of druggies. I was thinking 'Where did it all go wrong?' when this song came on. I knew I'd remember that moment for the rest of my life. To me, Rock 'n' Roll Star is like Johnny Rotten singing with Slade. It's punk rock, but in 1994. I love the self-belief: Noel [Gallagher] wrote it before he was a rock'n'roll star but knew it was gonna happen. The difference between the Mary Chain and Oasis is that when we reformed we'd buried the hatchet a good few years before we got back together. I'm not sure if they have, but it used to amaze people how William [Reid] and I could be screaming with hatred at each other in the studio, then 10 minutes later it would be: 'Do you want a cup of tea?' It may come as a surprise to people that I've chosen this song, but I think it's a great example of Oasis doing the thing they do so well. Even though the chorus hook is 'And I get so high I just can't feel it' – a classic Oasis line that only Noel could come up with and Liam could pull off – the melodic hook that makes it so definitive is the bit that follows: 'In and out my brain / Running through my vein / You're my sunshine, you're my rain.' A 'post-chorus chorus' is something that Noel does often and I've never heard in other people's songs. When they recorded The Hindu Times in Olympic Studios, I told Noel I it was really good and he kind of shrugged. The next thing, it was No 1. At about the same time I watched from the side of the stage as they played it at the Manchester Apollo. I couldn't work out if what I was seeing was a band totally at one with their audience or so elevated that they were on another plane. It was both, and I thought to myself, 'This is what rock'n'roll means.' I'm not proud of this, but I broke the news of the Oasis split. I was on the same bill as them in Paris [in 2009] and being young and naive I took it on myself to tell my Twitter followers what had happened ['Oasis cancelled again with one minute to stage time! Liam smashed Noel's guitar, huuuge fight']. By the time we got to the hotel it was headline news all over the world. My brother and his friends had spent all their money to come over to see them and were devastated. It felt like the end of an era. When I'd started going out with my sisters, pretending I was 18, I'd heard Acquiesce in an indie club called the Attic [in Glasgow] and I've listened to it ever since. When I hear it now, I always picture a massive crowd singing the words back at the band: it captures that feeling of being at a concert and everyone feeling united. Oasis started everything for me. Two brothers of Irish origin scrap like fuck: that was me and my brother. A few years later me and Chris [brother] ended up having a scrap in their dressing room at Wembley in front of Noel and Kate Moss and all these A-listers. It was as if life had gone full circle. The other side of Oasis that people miss is the quiet, sad, loner aspect to Noel's writing. It's in Talk Tonight, Going Nowhere, Underneath the Sky, Half the World Away … and Rockin' Chair is probably the best example. 'I'm older than I wish to be / This town holds no more for me' is Noel, in his bedroom, hating where he's living and fed up with his life. I totally get that and when Noel gets in that mood he's one of the best songwriters ever. The reunion feels like your mam and dad getting back together. People have moaned about dynamic pricing and such, but in very divisive times they're gonna make millions of people very happy. Live Forever sounds so at odds with it's time: 1994. I find it incredible that someone could wrap a 'fuck you' inside a song so openly positive. In the wreckage left behind by Thatcher's Britain and the shadow of Kurt Cobain's pain, Noel wrote an insolent, unapologetic love letter of self-belief from a place of nothing to lose, against a generation of moaners who have everything and still find reasons to complain. The song is written to step over the corpses of the past, unearthing the flag of romance others have tried to bury. It's a lesson in (working) class. The kind of optimism they summon is believable because it's not polished or corporate. It's radical. They're not promising a future, they're daring you to want one. Acquiesce features Liam and Noel singing, which is unusual, but for me this song almost reads like a Bhajan – a [Hindu] devotional song – or a Khajana, where the lyric will be sung and the audience will sing it back. 'I don't know what it is that makes me feel alive / I don't know how to wake the things that sleep inside / I only wanna see the light that shines behind your eyes' … that's deep and questioning. Then the chorus: 'Because we need each other / We believe in one another / And I know we're going to uncover / What's sleeping in our soul.' Even aged 13 I realised that what was being communicated was similar to the mystical and devotional poetry that I was surrounded by growing up [in Venezuela] with parents who were yogis. Oasis have been pigeonholed as working-class lads, but they sing about a deep spiritual longing, very similar to what was in those ancient books. I said hello to Noel in passing when he was working as a roadie for Inspiral Carpets, but then when I heard Oasis's music it just blew me away. When I was young, we had a transistor radio that all the hits came out of: the Beatles, the Stones and so on. Years later I was standing in a garage near my mum's when Don't Look Back in Anger came on their little radio and stopped me dead in my tracks like when I was a kid. Noel sort of reversed the David Bowie song, Look Back in Anger, to say 'look forward'. I love that attitude. My brother Simon – who passed away in 2021 – was a massive influence on me and I remember us seeing a picture of Liam in the 90s and thinking 'Who's that guy?' Soon afterwards, Oasis changed the landscape of Manchester. Suddenly every night there were lads on stage trying to be the next Oasis. When I stood on the balcony at the Hacienda for the launch of Definitely Maybe, I thought Liam caught my eye. In fact, he was looking up at [the Lemonheads'] Evan Dando, who was standing next to me, but I'd always come away from Oasis gigs feeling I could do something with my life. Supersonic is about that: 'I need to be myself / I can't be no one else …' The line 'I'm feeling supersonic / Give me gin and tonic' epitomises the swagger they had. When I was in London recording my debut album, Liam swaggered into the Met Bar. It was the first time we'd met, but we ended up in a room with 10 lads on a stag do playing guitars and singing songs. There was a panic at the time because Liam had gone 'missing', but all the time he was with me. When my dad died, he left me his Les Paul guitar. Noel played one, too, and when I was 15 I got it out from under Mum's bed, took it to school and learned Roll With It. Oasis were my gateway into rock'n'roll, and lately the Kooks have covered She's Electric. The lyrics are like a conversation with a friend but through the medium of this beautiful, transportive song, sung with such meaning. We've supported Noel and Liam separately and I don't think I've been as nervous in my life. When something's that deeply embedded, you become the teenager again. When I was at art school in Glasgow everything appealed to me about Oasis – working-class guys who'd got signed after a gig in King Tut's Wah Wah Hut – and once I heard Live Forever I was deeply in love with them. Then suddenly we were touring and spending a lot of time with them. On stage, Liam was very 'don't you fuck with me', but off stage he was a lovely guy. That thousand-yard stare on stage is a cover for doing one of the most vulnerable things a person can do: getting up there and singing. Digsy's Dinner is Oasis at their most unvarnished. It's aspirational: he's singing about being in a bad situation but 'What a life it could be / If you could come to mine for tea … We'll have lasagne'. The simple beauty of that speaks to me, and I love the way the melody explodes when it gets to 'These could be the best days of our lives'. It's an odd song and the runt of the Definitely Maybe litter for some people, but for me it's got everything. Stand By Me is the first Oasis song I became obsessed with. It still gives me full body chills listening to it. All the pieces just seem to fit together perfectly and simply, but it takes so much skill to be able to do that. I never knew that the opening line, 'Made a meal and threw it up on Sunday', was about Noel giving himself food poisoning [after his mother told him to 'cook yourself a proper Sunday dinner' when he moved to London] but melodically the song changed my life. Their songs are so well done that they kinda sneak into your head. Even now when I'm writing songs I think: 'Oh, is that a touch of Oasis?' I find them impossible not to borrow from in some way. My dad had an Oasis live CD in the car when I was 13 and from then on they were my favourite band: massive melodies and a real drive to the songs. Gurriers – a Dublin word for 'unruly young men' – fits with how rough and ready Oasis were at the time, like the story about them getting arrested on the ferry [to the Netherlands] for fighting. Definitely Maybe is full of attitude, but Slide Away has always made me emotional. The whole feeling is wanting to connect with someone, and if it's just us against the world we'll figure it out … but once you realise it's written in the context of a break up [Noel and first fiancee Louise Jones] it's gut-wrenching. There's a bit in the Oasis: Supersonic documentary about a woman and her brother who spent the weekend watching them at Knebworth and singing along together, then he died a few months later. That's always stuck with me: how so many of our relationships with friends or family are bound up by music. Champagne Supernova was one of the first things I learned to play on guitar. It's a masterpiece in the way it's put together: a classic structure, then another part and then another, like a double bridge. Lyrically, it's reflective and then has that almost tongue-in-cheek 'Someday you will find me beneath a champagne supernova …' bit. It's just beautiful. Oasis songs always sound as if they have been written in minutes but are like everything you've ever heard and loved before, mixed together. I've no idea what a Wonderwall is, but for me this song has soundtracked iconic arms-round-shoulders moments at the end of family weddings and school discos. It sums up that universal experience we have with music, and taught a generation (including myself) how to play guitar and that songs can be basic and instinctive and still feel huge and meaningful. Every guitarist will have a relationship to the opening chords of Wonderwall – whether they love it or hate it, they will know how to play it. When I was 18 or 19, I was a cleaner at a rest home and would roam around with headphones on, soaking up the first three Oasis albums. When Adam [Slack, guitar] and I started playing we used to do Acquiesce, Rock 'n' Roll Star and Cigarettes & Alcohol, which we've played in the Struts many times. Roll With It is my quintessential go-to Oasis song. Lyrically and sonically it encapsulates what they're about. It starts off quietly then hits you with this Chieftain tank of a groove. This was the song in the infamous chart battle with Blur's Country House and kinda says 'You're either with us or against us'. They lost the battle [Roll With It reached No 2] but won the war in terms of subsequent popularity. To me, the way they chose Roll With It knowing they had Wonderwall or Don't Look Back in Anger in the locker is incredibly brave and brilliantly cocky. In the 90s, New York was a melting pot of music and, however unlikely it may seem, Britpop felt like an intense wave that reached the city. Even in the hip-hop scene we were obsessed with Oasis. Two gorgeous brothers, quintessentially British, punching each other – and they made amazing pop music. What's not to love? To me they felt like a new version of the Beatles, Stones and Led Zeppelin albums my dad used to play, but filtered through the rich history of Manchester music such as the Stone Roses and Happy Mondays. Champagne Supernova just makes me feel good inside in ways I can't explain. I don't get high now, but back then we loved to sing 'Where were you when we were getting high?' as we were doing just that. We went to France with Oasis when we were both starting off, which was pretty wild. They were at the centre of a media storm and made sure they lived up to it, although they were really nice guys. In 1994, Echobelly and Oasis were playing New York clubs and went to each other's gigs. I remember standing right at the front when Liam smiled at me, and Rock 'n' Roll Star just epitomises the energy of that moment, and those times. Who joins a band and doesn't want to be a rock'n'roll star? Oasis make their long-awaited comeback at Cardiff's Principality Stadium on 4 and 5 July, then tour.
NBC News
28-04-2025
- Entertainment
- NBC News
Rock & Roll Hall of Fame unveils 2025 inductees. See who made the list
The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame has announced its class of inductees for 2025. Inductees were announced during the April 27 episode of 'American Idol,' with Cyndi Lauper, Outkast, Soundgarden and Chubby Checker among the seven acts who will be enshrined in the performer category. Salt-N-Pepa will enter with the musical influence award, which recognized artists who have impacted culture through their music and performance style. The pair joins Outkast to make it the sixth consecutive year at least one rap act will be inducted. 2025 also marks the fourth straight year four or more women will be inducted. While the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame prepares to welcome a new class of talent, several notable nominees, which were announced in February, did not make the final list of inductees. Oasis and Mariah Carey both failed to get inducted for the second straight year. The Black Crowes, Billy Idol and Phish, which notably won the fan vote, also didn't make the cut. The inductees are determined by an international voting panel made up of more than 1,200 'artists, historians, and music industry professionals,' the Hall of Fame said in a press release announcing the 2025 nominees. 'The selection criteria include an artist's impact on music culture, influence on other musicians that have followed, as well as the scope and longevity of their career and body of work,' the release stated. But some fans on social media couldn't believe the high profile performers did not get inducted. 'I love you @MariahCarey and you don't need a Rock n Roll induction to validate what you've meant to the music industry over the last 35 years and the numerous lives you've impacted!' one fan wrote. 'You are ONE OF ONE and don't ever forget that!' 'Blows my mind that Billy Idol is not on this list,' one person commented. 'You're missing the winner of the fan vote. @phish. What's the point of having people vote if it doesn't mean anything?' asked another X user. Phish came in first in the fan vote, followed by Bad Company and Billy Idol, per Variety. 'The top five vote-getters in the public fan poll form one ballot, which is weighted the same as the rest of the submitted ballots,' according to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. The induction ceremony will stream live Nov. 8 from the Peacock Theater in Los Angeles on Disney+ and on Hulu the next day. An induction special will also air at a later date on ABC. Here's a look at all the inductees across the various categories: Performer category Bad Company Chubby Checker Joe Cocker Cyndi Lauper Outkast Soundgarden The White Stripes Musical influence award Salt-N-Pepa Warren Zevon Musical excellence award Thom Bell Nicky Hopkins Carol Kaye Ahmet Ertegun award Lenny Waronker
