Oasis Experience by Jay Hutto

Oasis was the headline of the summer. I’d already seen the buildup back in June when I was in England. You couldn’t miss it. Billboards on the Tube, front covers in every shop, a whole Oasis shop in the Adidas store- with a line. It was 1995 again. My friend of 40 years, his 20-year-old son, and me had to get in on it. The first set of shows were announced in the UK with no American shows announced until a little later. We thought it would be a classic Oasis move to do Europe only and we’d miss out. But they aren’t Morrissey. By the time the New York shows rolled around, the hype was scalding hot, and you could feel it as soon as you walked into the
stadium

It didn’t feel like a concert. We had been in the city since Friday over Labor Day weekend. We had seen the Oasis gear on the street, on billboards in Times Square. People had Man City scarves draped around their necks, beers in hand, already singing before the band hit the stage. The atmosphere was less “gig” and more “football final.” This experience was different than most concerts I’ve attended. Maybe it’s the state of the world, but this felt like something BIG. One thing that I have always loved about Oasis’s music is the sound. It’s BIG. The songs are simple and follow the same patterns used in rock music since the 50s. The instrumentation is straightforward except for the occasional sample or sound effect. But I think the most enduring thing about Oasis’s magic years, is the huge sweeping choruses in the songs. In a live, stadium setting, you really do feel like you’re at a football match. People were just happy all around us. That in and of itself seems weird in these extremely weird times. We never saw any fights or arguments. In fact, the guys a couple of rows behind us, clearly local, somehow ended up with an extra ticket and called their limo driver to come into the show. The guy stood there behind me in his uniform. He didn’t know anything about the band other than he wanted to see what was happening in the stadium. About halfway through the show, I turned around and the driver had his hands in the air and a huge grin on his face.

For folks who experienced them live back in the day, you know it was loud, but this might have been the best sound I’ve ever heard in any stadium. Cast, an OG Britpop band from the early ‘90s opened to a sparse crowd. Those who were there were very enthusiastic. They were great and I remembered a couple of songs from their first album. Next, Cage the Elephant came on about 6:30 and they ramped up the energy in the place. I recognized a few of their songs but they really had a show. The lead singer reminded me of a much younger Mick Jagger in the mid 1960’s. By the time they left the stage, things were coming to a fevered pitch. The warmup music playing over the PA was a mix of deep cuts from the Stones and the Who. The atmosphere was lit up. Fantastic.

That’s where the brotherhood came in. I was there with my best friend, but it felt like we were all best friends. Strangers hugging and bouncing up and down during songs, women dancing in the aisles, plastic cups crunching all around like we’d known each other since grade school. It was raw and messy in the best way a stadium show could be.

And then there’s the Gallaghers themselves. Their story is as old as rock n roll itself and has always been defined by fighting, breaking up, and swearing they’d never play together again. But on that stage, you could see something different. Time had done its work. The edges seemed softer, the sneers a little cheekier and knowing than angry. They weren’t trying to prove they were the Beatles anymore. Now they were just playing the songs, letting them live through the crowd and the moment.

That’s the maturity I noticed. Don’t get me wrong: Liam still had the trademark stance, still sneered into the mic like nobody else can, but it felt less combative and more positive. There were a lot of inside jokes about drugs with the folks up front. If there was somebody who could bring the world together, that night it was Liam. Noel still ran the show musically, but instead of tension, there was this sense of, “We’re here, we’re doing this, and it’s still great.” Time has been good to them. The same two brothers who once couldn’t stand each other seemed, if not friendly, at least settled. Like they’d finally made peace with who they are.

And honestly, the crowd mirrored that. We’ve all grown up since the 90s. Instead of teenagers in parkas, it was parents with kids on their shoulders, old fans mixing with younger ones who’d only ever known the records. The music has grown, too. Those big sing-alongs hit differently when you’ve lived a little. “Live Forever” feels less like cocky teenage bravado now and more like a promise you’re grateful to keep.

And when Liam stepped to the mic, Noel strapped on the guitar, and the first chords rang out, the place just exploded. The stadium became a choir. Every word, every chorus, every chant, everything was louder than the PA system. You didn’t need to know the guy next to you to throw an arm around his shoulder during Don’t Look Back in Anger. That’s what I’ll remember. Not just that Oasis can still fill a stadium, still make the walls shake.

But that sense of maturity, how time hasn’t killed the spark but reshaped it into something new and contemporary. The songs are the same, but the meaning changes when you sing them twenty, thirty years later. Walking out into the streets after, people kept singing, kept laughing, still buzzing. For a few hours, Oasis had given us not just nostalgia, but something current, alive, and needed. Brotherhood in the truest sense: onstage, in the stands, and spilling out into the night. I feel pretty confident in letting you know that that show was in my Top 5 of all time. It wasn’t just the music, but the raw power of the band. The way those songs are just different enough from their peers to become timeless in a time where nothing lasts. Experiencing all of that with my oldest friend and his son, my Godson, was something that I won’t forget. I thought about how we’d grown, too. We don’t agree on everything, but on that night, there was nothing else happening in the world outside the “Metlife” (Meadowlands) Stadium that mattered. It’s rare that you can get one of those these days. If you do get the opportunity to experience an event like that, I suggest you make the time and do it.

Many thanks to our friend Jay Hutto for contributing.  He’s as cool as/cooler than you.