Oasis reunion… kinda

When the final fray snapped, and Oasis officially fell apart on August 28, 2009, fans thought they’d be back quicker than you could say ‘cut me hair and bin me parka’.

For some reason, people felt like they had seen the script before, and, with the arrogance of the wishful, confidently started counting down the clock toward the ‘inevitable reunion’.

The cynics thought the split was a shrewd and sneaky business move; that these two greedy Mancs would wait until the cash cow was ready to burst, then, with a sly, brotherly wink, they’d sell out Knebworth for ten nights straight.

Even Bonehead would be laughing all the way to the bank.

Others flat-out refused to take them at their spiteful word; instead, choosing to cling to the idea that the boys were, whether they knew it or not, eternally bound by a brotherly bond.

As the two continued making public declarations of their undying – even intensifying – hatred for one another, people still hoped that beneath all their apparent loathing, lay some unbreakable love that would eventually win out.

But that fantasy, I’m sorry to say, hasn’t aged well.

Because, more than a decade on, with Liam enjoying a heap of solo success, and Noel giving us every reason to believe that he’d quicker set his younger sibling on fire rather than reform Oasis, a reunion seems further away than ever.

Alas.

Oasis are gone and they probably aren’t coming back. Oh well, what can ye do…

Well, you’ve a lock of options.

Option A: Go see Noel and his High Flying Birds.

To hear Noel and the High Flyers is to hear the songs you love, performed by the man who actually penned them. It’s the creator, and his creations.

The drawback, however, is that, although Noel has a lovely voice, you’re missing the grit and attitude that was half of what Oasis was all about.

In short, you’ve no Liam.

Plus, to the Oasis fan, loads of Noel’s newer stuff – of which he always plays plenty – just isn’t going to land.

Option B: Go see Liam (surprise surprise).

At a Liam gig, you’re getting closer to experiencing the spirit of Oasis.

You’ll hear the voice that originally carried the songs you love, as you originally loved them, and you can be sure he’ll sing as many of those late ‘90s classics as he can.

‘Rock ‘n’ Roll Star’; ‘Slide Away’; (What’s The Story) ‘Morning Glory’; ‘Supersonic’; and ‘Stand By Me’ are all pretty much guaranteed.

I was at the Knebworth gig during the summer, and he played them all. It was immense.

Additionally, Liam’s new stuff is far closer in character to the music that made up those first few iconic Oasis albums.

Unlike when Noel plays a lot of his own stuff, it feels like the crowd are enjoying Liam’s new material… Not enduring it.

I’ve been to see both, and have to say that – almost in spite of myself – I preferred Liam.

Jesus, that’s hard to say.

But there is a third option for the modern Oasis fan. One that many (fools) would laugh off with derision. A tribute act.

A solid-gold, take-the-roof-off, go-home-without-a-voice tribute act.

They call themselves ‘Roll With It’, and they are mighty.

Eponymously named after the second track on ‘(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?’, ‘Roll With It’ are everything an uncomplicated tribute act should be.

Every tune is an attempt to replicate the original.

In comedy, it is often asserted that impressions are ‘the lowest form of humour’ – or something like that – and, similarly, there are those who curl their lip at tribute acts.

But, what I witnessed when ‘Roll With It’ played in Omagh’s Copper Tap recently was nothing short of mega, man.

I’ll set the simple, but perfect, scene.

Bare essentials.

The bar was packed. The pints were flowing. The warm up acts had done their job; the people were perspiring.

Everyone stood around talking about what ‘Oasis’ – not ‘Roll With It’ – were going to play.

We had all bought into the great delusion.

Reality had been suspended, and Oasis were – for all intents and purposes – back where they belonged: On top of the world (in The Copper Tap).

A wall of distorted guitar tore through the room and drowned out all our chatting. A ropey-enough Mancunian accent came over the mic, and abrasively said something that at once sounded like a ‘hello’ and ‘clear off’.

“Yeoooooo,” went the male-dominated crowd.

The sound of whirling helicopters blades heralded ‘Columbia’ – the first song Noel apparently ever wrote. The place went mad.

I may be prone to exaggeration… but believe me when I say that I gave more hugs to sweaty fellas that night than I have given my whole family in the past five years.

Wile amount of sweating. Wile amount of hugging.

I know music in general has the power to enliven, to dissolve boundaries, and to unite. But them old Oasis tunes seem to do it better than just about anything else; aggressive anthems full of love and life.

Next time ‘Roll With It’ come to a town near you, fish out your bucket hat, pull on your coat, bring a friend… bring 50 friends, and sing along with every word.

God gave us voices, and he gave us Oasis to lose them.