Oasis
Croke Park, Dublin
★★★★☆
A beery hum of anticipation has swollen to the point of frenzy when Oasis stride on stage for their Irish homecoming, older but not necessarily any wiser, just like the rest of us.
Liam Gallagher brandishes his maracas and parades the hand of Noel Gallagher, the big brother who held out on this reunion for so long.
“Hello, hello, it’s good to be back,” Liam sings in their opener, Hello, and 82,000 people show him the feeling’s mutual.
On a less mad-for-it night than this, another of that song’s lyrics, where we’re warned “it’s never going to be the same”, might linger in the collective ears of Croke Park, but we’re not here to fret, or think. We’re here to be stupidly young again, and Oasis don’t have to do very much to unlock the fervent support of their tribe.
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Liam gives our efforts a satisfied nod, and as the band unleash the soaring Acquiesce and a wildly jubilant Morning Glory, there’s no uncertainty, no hesitation. Celebration mode has been activated. Oasis are here! And they’re as emphatic as ever.
Liam blesses himself and tells us he’s missed us, then Some Might Say, their first UK number one, lands like the quintessential Oasis song, setting out its promising stall before dining off its own guitar-propelled swagger in a manner that’s brash, nonsensical and couldn’t be more 1995 if it tried.
On the outward stretch we’re also treated to the hedonistic snarl of Cigarettes & Alcohol, the daft rhymes of Supersonic and the big, dumb propulsion of Roll With It. The band’s entry in its infamous chart battle with Blur was never much adored, but tonight it exudes an energy that certain other tracks (cough, Bring It on Down, cough, Fade Away) don’t quite.
After Liam dedicates the song to anyone in from Charlestown, Co Mayo, and bellows it out, it’s time for the first of two Noel-led sections of the gig.
[ Mother from Mayo, father from Meath: How Irish are Oasis?Opens in new window ]
He applauds the crowd’s gap-filling “Olé, olé, olé”, then ushers in relative subtlety with the plaintive Talk Tonight before being rewarded with a reverent singalong for the brass-enhanced Half the World Away. Croke Park is swaying and sozzled, all hard shells long since cracked.
“True perfection has to be imperfect,” Noel contends on Little by Little, the sole but worthy representative of the band’s extensive Noughties output. It’s another fine collision of downbeat sentiment and joyous, rousing chorus.
After Liam reclaims lead vocals we’re on to the weakest pair of songs: D’You Know What I Mean? is like a facsimile of an Oasis track, while Stand by Me, its companion from 1997, remains deadening.
Cast No Shadow elicits the first waving phone torches as the sky darkens, but we return to the default vibe of shouty peak Oasis only with the advent of Slide Away, and from there we proceed to the reliable highlight Whatever, the loveliest of Liam-sung songs. It’s melded, as is traditional, with a snippet of The Beatles’ Octopus’s Garden, for all those Ringo Starr fans out there.
We’re firmly in anthem city now: Live Forever is the manifesto of a song that sealed the deal for Oasis, and it arrives, just as it did in the summer of 1994, as a breath of defiantly retro air.
[ I paid €440 for an Oasis ticket in Croke Park, and I’m not even a huge fanOpens in new window ]
Set-list quibbles aside, it’s frankly pointless wishing Oasis were a different band. “It’s just rock’n’roll,” as Liam insists on Rock’n’Roll Star, and that’s its superpower.
A four-song encore begins with Noel’s acknowledgment of the non-Gallaghers in the line-up, with the loudest cheers reserved for the returned original member Paul “Bonehead” Arthurs.
Then the potent melancholy of The Masterplan, previously and reasonably described by Noel as the best thing he’s ever written, sets everybody off again, and we know what’s coming next: Don’t Look Back in Anger, a true belter from the first word, gets the loyal, emotional singalong it deserves, its title chanted by the crowd before the final phrase. Noel seems like he might be chuffed on the inside.
Still, we’ve got to save what’s left of our voices for Wonderwall, which Liam intones with impressive relish, his distinctive hands-behind-back pose lending an edge to what is, in essence, a ballad.
Amid psychedelic backdrops, the faltering strains of Champagne Supernova feel more like a goodbye than ever. Liam gives Noel a few manly shoulder pats, then he’s off.
Oasis have knocked it out of Croke Park on a barnstorming, air-punching, controversy-proof night that transcends nostalgia and delivers a whopping dose of catharsis. We are gonna live forever, right?
