OASIS? WHAT CRISIS?: Glum days for Oasis that even a spot of polite queerbashing isn't going to improve upon, it seems. First of all, Noel's admitted that their publishers are less than impressed with the Songs Wot Liam Wrote and are insisting that Noel seizes back control of the crayons before any more sub-nursery rhyme ditties get stuck out - and, of course, its the publishers who really control the cash in music these days. Then, there's this from six music's Gary Bales, long-term Oasis fan, who went to Finsbury Park:
If you were a part of the mid nineties Britpop generation like me then listen up. You know that feeling you had before the release of the new Oasis album last week? The feeling of hope and excitement that the summer of '95 is on our doorstep again? Well forget it. It's over.
'Stating the obvious isn't he?' you might say. Well fair enough, but yesterday's Oasis gig at Finsbury Park sounded the death knoll of the greatest band to exist in my lifetime.
Oasis gigs in the mid-nineties were joyous occasions. You could feel the warmth and the energy from both the band and every single fan in the crowd. They were 'our' band, we loved them and they loved us. That summer of '95 was our very own summer of love. Liam, Noel, Bonehead and Guigsy were Gods.
Forward seven years to last night at Finsbury Park, the band's last gig of a three-night stay. That atmosphere of celebration, so evident when the band were at their peak, has gone.
It has been replaced by a feeling of tension. A feeling that at any time you could get hit in the face by a bottle of God knows what from a passing stranger and a feeling that if you reacted, you would probably end up in hospital after being jumped on by thirty thousand other like minded idiots.
It really was that bad. In the space of fifteen minutes I saw no less than five people being helped into the St John's Ambulance tent to have nasty head cuts attended to. It was like a war zone.
When Oasis eventually came onstage, the rush of adrenaline and excitement I used to get failed to appear. Instead all I wanted to do was stand at the back near the exit. I didn't want to jump up and down to Cigarettes and Alcohol just in case I bumped into some nutcase who would see it as a declaration of war. I just wanted to leave and forget it ever happened.
None of which is Oasis' fault. They were solid as usual. Acquiescewas brilliant, She's Electric better than I've ever heard it and even Hung In A Bad Place from the new album sounded good. The problem was the pure feeling of celebration that surrounded them has disappeared.
Oasis has turned into just another band playing rock songs. Even though Liam is still the best frontman in the business and Noel is as charismatic as ever, the magic has gone. Last night was, for me, the end of an era.
Or, to put it another way, Oasis may have started out as Man City, but now they've become Man Utd - a machine for making noises to watch at; a thing to go to, rather than a force to love.
By the way, why doesn't six music archive its excellent music op-ed pieces? Surely, if the BBC can find server space for seemingly everything it's ever produced, there must be a bit of room for these think pieces?
Tuesday, July 09, 2002
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