By Hamish MacBain
Born in Busan, South Korea just several days after Spotify. (To give an idea of just how enormous an accomplishment this is, Taylor Swift鈥檚 鈥淪hake It Off鈥 took almost 10 years to achieve the same milestone.)
Soon after, as part of his promotional tour for 鈥淪even鈥, Jung Kook stopped off at Radio 1 to perform in the live lounge where, as is customary, he performed his new single along with a cover of his choice. When it was trailed that the latter would be an Oasis song, most people tuning in likely would have presumed it would be one of their heavy hitters: 鈥淒on鈥檛 Look Back In Anger鈥 or 鈥淲onderwall鈥 or maybe at a push 鈥淪top Crying Your Heart Out鈥, which Leona Lewis covered in 2009 and turned into an X Factor audition standard (see: a then-unknown Harry Styles). But no. Jung Kook鈥檚 song of choice? The 2005 track 鈥淟et There Be Love鈥.
It was, to say the least, an esoteric choice. The long-running, somewhat sniffy, and fairly unanimous critical narrative surrounding Oasis is that the brothers made two good albums in Definitely Maybe and (What鈥檚 The Story) Morning Glory? then nothing of value after that. So how on earth was the biggest pop star in the world 鈥 not yet born when said albums came out 鈥 aware of this relative obscurity?
The answer lies in the success of the Supersonic documentary. After its release in 2016, generation after generation of freshly hooked Oasis fans rushed to Spotify and discovered their post-1996 songs without the context of the times in which they were released. Many who heard, say, 鈥淕o Let It Out鈥 upon its release in 2000 did so with people all around them endlessly screeching that Oasis were long finished and that this single 鈥 a UK No 1, but still 鈥 was evidence of that fact. That it was the lead single from their weakest album, 2000鈥檚 Standing On The Shoulder Of Giants, did not help its critical reception. But to fresh ears as part of a playlist, sandwiched between 鈥淢orning Glory鈥 and 鈥淪lide Away鈥? It鈥檚 just another great Oasis song.
To browse TikTok in the moments after the reunion announcement in 2024 was to see thousands of teenagers ecstatically miming along to Oasis songs most music critics likely never even bothered listening to before typing out their 鈥渋t鈥檚 not a patch on Definitely Maybe鈥 missives. There鈥檚 the motorik groove of 鈥淭he Shock Of The Lightning鈥 and the Liam-written blast of 鈥淎in鈥檛 Got Nothin鈥欌. The gorgeous Gallagher duet 鈥淟et There Be Love鈥. 鈥淏onehead鈥檚 Bank Holiday鈥 (a vinyl-only bonus track on Morning Glory) is enjoying a particularly joyous second life.
It is this multi-generational reappraisal that has made news of the Oasis reunion that much more exciting. Part of Noel Gallagher鈥檚 reasoning for not reuniting with his brother sooner 鈥 among many other well-documented reasons 鈥 was that everyone who could possibly have wanted to see his band had surely had ample opportunity. Oasis had, after all, spent the 15 years after their imperial period playing stadiums all over the world. Even those who were but toddlers when 鈥淟ive Forever鈥 came out could have legally bought a drink while watching them play in 2009.
But from 2016 onwards, it became apparent that this was no longer the case, and that there was a whole new generation desperate to experience Oasis. At Liam Gallagher鈥檚 first solo show at Manchester Ritz in 2017 鈥 which I attended along with lots of people far younger than me 鈥 he closed with the title track from Be Here Now: a song that even Oasis had stopped playing in 1998. That night, it went down as though it was one of their biggest hits. The band, too, never played 鈥淩oll It Over鈥 鈥 from the aforementioned, much maligned Standing On The Shoulder Of Giants 鈥 yet Liam felt confident enough to give the song its live debut in front of 85,000 people on his return to Knebworth in 2022.
The last time that I saw Noel Gallagher鈥檚 High Flying Birds, meanwhile 鈥 at Alexandra Palace in July 2024, when he but very few others knew what was coming in a month鈥檚 time 鈥 he performed Stand By Me B-side 鈥淕oing Nowhere鈥 and was greeted with the kind of mass singalong normally reserved for enormo-hits. The fact that a good chunk of those voices belonged to teenagers says a lot.
When it comes to the reunion shows, Oasis have, I would say, about 75 minutes鈥 worth of music that they would not get out of the venues alive without playing. We all know which songs these are. But that still leaves plenty of room for a few deeper cuts, which will go down as well with their newfound Gen Z audience as it will with those who, like me, first got hooked on them in 1994.
Famously, of course, the story of Oasis extends far beyond their greatest hits anyway. A good slice of that 75 minutes are B-sides (鈥淎cquiesce鈥; 鈥淗alf The World Away鈥) and so perhaps it is time that their older, more cynical observers take a leaf out of their younger, less cynical counterparts and delve back into a latter day catalogue that, while undeniably patchy and not at-the-time-era-defining, is stuffed full of gems that are the equal of those bigger songs and worthy of attention.
In fact, it would be brilliant if somebody could co-author a book that, rather than going deep on 1994-1997 and then skipping over the next 12 years like they don鈥檛 really matter, celebrates the whole, glorious spectrum of Oasis for both new fans and old.
Oh wait. Somebody has鈥
鈥楢 Sound So Very Loud: The Inside Story Of Every Song Oasis Recorded鈥 by Ted Kessler and Hamish MacBain is published by Pan Macmillan on 3 July (拢25, hardback 鈥 ebook and audiobook also available)