Jeff Jarrett traveled from his home in St. Louis to see the Oasis Live ’25 tour opener in Cardiff, Wales in July and then at Soldier Field in Chicago in August. But for him, no Oasis concert will ever come close to that evening in early September in Pasadena, California, when he saw his favorite band for the first time with his six-year-old son Wolf.
“It was an evening that was as beautiful – and as loud – as I could have hoped for,” says Jarrett, 44, a booking agent and artist manager, who proudly remembers his son being greeted with high-fives from the surrounding audience. “When Wolf sang ‘Acquiesce,’ I laughed like Mr. Burns in The Simpsons: ‘My son loves Oasis. The plan is working.'”
fathers and sons. fathers and daughters. And fathers and their fathers. Husbands, boyfriends, best buddies. Former college roommates, current college roommates. And none of them misbehaved — at least not from what I witnessed at the first of two shows at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey over Labor Day weekend.
“So much hugging, kissing, crying between men and not a single fight between mates”
I dare say I was impressed, moved and yes, surprised by all the positive masculinity. Seemingly everywhere I went there were happy, sensitive, emotional, and chivalrous men. At the merchandise stand, at the tequila bar. Even in the parking lot, where a cheerful gentleman was handing out beer to passers-by and inviting them to watch Sunday football on the big-screen TV he had set up on a folding table.
“So much hugging, kissing, crying between men and not a single fight between buddies in the three shows I attended,” Bob Ferguson, a Gen He also saw the two reunion shows in Toronto – Oasis’ first stop on this tour in North America. “I’ve never seen so many single dads with kids at a rock concert, singing together as if standing on the floor of a football stadium chanting ‘I’m a rock star!’ to call. I love that the unusual guys from Oasis inspire amazing social politeness!”
Politeness was never the Gallaghers’ strong suit
Politeness was never the Gallagher brothers’ strong suit. They were known for their rudeness, which was clearly evident in interviews in the 90s and 2000s (where they would leave the room mid-conversation, make insulting statements or make fun of the journalists) and at their own concerts (where Liam was known for spitting beer at the audience). Older brother Noel loved to mock other musicians: Phil Collins was “a mediocre bald guy,” Robbie Williams was “the fat dancer from Take That,” and so on and so forth. When INXS frontman Michael Hutchence presented Oasis with a BRIT Award in 1996, Noel began his acceptance speech by saying: “Former stars shouldn’t be presenting awards…”
The Gallaghers also publicly insulted each other. After the band broke up in 2009, Liam taunted Noel on Twitter for years, calling him a “potato” and a “sad little dwarf”, while Noel described Liam as “the angriest man you could ever meet. He’s like a man with a fork in a world full of soup”.
Now, 16 years after Noel ended Oasis in Paris – reportedly after a physical altercation backstage in which Liam wielded a guitar like an ax – the brothers make a point of starting every show by coming on stage with their arms wrapped around each other. Hugs and kisses abound.
Reconciliation as part of identity
Does time heal old wounds and soften even the toughest, brashest rock stars? Some might say that a comeback tour that’s reportedly expected to gross $1.6 billion will help. But Paul Adams, 54 – born and raised in Manchester, England, just like Noel and Liam – offers a little armchair psychology on the dynamics between the Gallaghers. “You have to understand that northern men are as passionate as they come,” he says.
“When you fall out with someone in the north of England, it becomes part of your identity. It’s the clothes you wear… But it’s all just bragging. The moment their audience left, both men were filled with regret over this relationship that seemed to have ended, to the point that they probably couldn’t even remember why, but there was always a longing for reconciliation. So we can be cynical when the brothers appear arm in arm, but actually that’s what they need.”
Jason Singer — aka Nashville-based singer-songwriter Michigander, who calls Oasis “one of the reasons I make music” — believes their fans need reconciliation, too. “These concerts take people back to a time when we as a society weren’t so polarized,” says the 33-year-old singer, who saw one of the concerts in Chicago.
You and me, we will live forever
At my seat at MetLife Stadium, I got to know my neighbors. Among them were two long-time friends who largely ignored the band on stage and instead sang almost every lyric together. There was a man sitting nearby who was there with his fiancée and her parents. He had chosen this evening, this concert, specifically for his first meeting with his future in-laws (a brilliant decision, as the white-haired, older couple were apparently big Oasis fans).
To my right sat two brothers from the Bronx, Frank, 34, and Joseph, 27. I met the older one when he asked me if we could join arms to do “Poznań,” a fan-favorite moment during “Cigarettes and Alcohol” in which Liam asks the audience to turn their backs to the stage and jump up and down.
Like many fans I met that night, this wasn’t their first Oasis concert. Frank, who like his brother works in construction, said he had never been abroad before, but when it was announced that the band had got back together and was starting a tour in the UK, Joseph was texting him “like crazy: ‘We have to go!’ When we were kids, my brother liked them because I liked them. Your music has brought us much closer to each other. They are brothers, we are brothers.”
“I was completely beside myself. I mean, tears!”
When tickets for the UK concerts went on sale, the pair stayed up all night in New York and eventually managed to get two tickets to one of the seven sold-out concerts at Wembley Stadium in London in July and August this year.
“We get there and see everyone in Oasis clothes and I’m really emotional,” says Frank.
“Then the lights went down and the first notes of the intro played and I stood arm in arm with my brother, taking it all in. I looked around and everyone was there with their families and friends. Everyone felt the same thing: togetherness, community. Then they came on stage, Liam and Noel were holding hands… I was completely beside myself. I mean, tears!”
The best night of my life
“I cried about four times,” Singer says, recalling his experience at the show at Soldier Field. “It was the best night of my life. I’ve seen some crazy, cool shows, but this one topped them all. I honestly can’t stop thinking about it. And I’ve never experienced anything like it. And I’ve seen a lot of people say this is the Eras Tour for white dudes. I don’t know how you could do something like that again.”
Impossible, snorts Adams: “There’s no one who could do a reunion tour right now that would top that. It’s almost certainly the most successful reunion tour of all time. And the band sounds better than ever. It’s working-class music, underpinned by ambition and an ability to see the beauty in the everyday. Noel’s songs about hope, friendship and joy, combined with his ability to write beautifully sad chord progressions and hymns sung by his brother “Everything is fucked up, so go have a beer, hug the people around you, sing the songs you know by heart, and believe that everything will be okay.”