My Oasis lore is no abbreviated tale, in fact, it’s going to necessitate a series of posts to accommodate those like me, with short attention spans and / or better things to do with their time than listen to me tell long-winded extra-curricular stories about aging bands and their rabid fan bases, so let’s jump right in.
When I was a teenager my mom wouldn’t allow me to rawdog hanging posters up in my room. Any art that crossed the threshold to my home had to be framed. At the time, this sounded utterly insane to me and I considered it oppressive, but in hindsight, I like to think of it as “editorial”. Due to the rigid nature of this demand, I only had three posters hanging in my room. Two of them were from the films, “Casablanca”, and, “Reservoir Dogs”. The only band poster that was hung in my room (behind my door, next to where my full length mirror hung) was that of Oasis. Of course I had other musical loves, but only The Gallagher Brothers were worth the trouble of framing and learning how to use a nail and hammer at the tender age of 16 to perfectly place them in my daily line of sight.
I never saw them live back then. When I was still living with my mother, there wasn’t a chance that would be allowed, and after, “Be Here Now,” came out I drifted as a fan, explored other genres more deeply, lindy-hopped my little life away internationally, and eventually they broke up. Of course the tale as old as time, “You don’t know what you’ve got, till it’s gone,” hit me hard, and I was immediately - and seemingly permanently - devastated. How had I failed so miserably at seeing one of my favorite bands of all time? I work in music for god’s sake! How?!
In the summer of 2024, I heard they were reuniting for some UK shows and I knew this was my chance! I was born in the UK and I still travel back roughly once a year, give or take. This was a perfect excuse for another adventure in some of my favorite cities. I prepared myself to pull an all-nighter for the on-sale. Tickets went on sale on a Saturday at 9 am UK time, making it 1 am on the west coast of the US, where I sit. I was working that night and had to start the process while I was still wrapping up the evening’s duties. Around midnight, I opened my browser and had it at the ready for when the queue opened in hopes to get a decent spot in line. When the official queue opened at 1 am however, I was something like 90,000th in line, (I come bearing receipts). Unreasonable at best, impossible at worst, but it didn’t matter, I persisted. You could only choose one of the dates to try to get tickets for and I chose one of the Manchester.dates. I figured the boys’ hometown would be most special. I easily made cases for all the other locations as well, but something was calling me to try for Manchester.
Around 5 am, I started to aggressively lose steam. I could feel myself fading, but I was steadily making progress in the queue, and refused to give up. There were notifications in the queue regarding ticket availability and whether there were any still remaining. I kept refreshing social media sites trying to see if anything had been listed as “sold out”, but nothing was being updated promptly. I started to set an alarm for every thirty minutes because I was nodding off. This alarm-on-repeat strategy eventually became every 15 minutes. The eyes were simply not having it. They were weighing more and more heavy with each passing minute. If my spot should open up and I miss it, I’d have to go back to the end of the queue, so falling asleep wasn’t an option. I finally gained entry to buy tickets just before 8am Pacific Time, and all that was available were ADA tickets. I’m not that kinda girl (read: I’m not a liar). But I *am* Ticketmaster’s sworn enemy (they don’t know that 🤫 , but they are a criminal enterprise as far as I’m concerned.) so engaging in their resale abomination was not something I would entertain either. Finally, just after 8 am, I had to begrudgingly admit defeat and try to catch even the slightest bit of sleep so I could carry on with my non-Oasis-ticket-holding day of doldrums. 😞
As this all unfolded some good friends caught wind of my mild bout with psychosis known as pulling-an-all-nighter-for-some-tickets-to-a-show-in-a-country-that’s-6,000-miles-away. They were quite sympathetic and swore to help me get a presale code if they announced US dates. Sure enough, Oasis announced US tour dates including two nights at The Rose Bowl, about a half hour drive from my house!!! The friends came through! Presale code acquired, multiple friends buying tickets at the same time, and voila! I ended up getting tickets for both nights. I swore on that day, I was getting a dog-sitter for the weekend and declared September 6th and 7th, 2025 to be Oasis Weekend. Nothing would bring me down (& trust me, some tried).
Fast forward to July 4th, 2025. This was a rough day in the States. I won’t speak as if we’re a monolith, but I wasn’t feeling particularly patriotic once the ICE raids started happening in LA. I didn’t celebrate America’s Independence Day this year, instead I celebrated Oasis Day and treated it like it was Christmas in July. Because for me, it was! July 4th was the glorious kick off of their reunion tour in Cardiff. I didn’t bother with hot dogs and fireworks, instead I ate Mexican food and watched as much Oasis bootleg and social media footage as I could find. I started a whole new highlight reel on my Instagram page dedicated to the “Oasis Countdown”. This silly act of what, “Some Might Say,” is cringe, but I call unapologetic enthusiasm, brought me free and genuine joy all summer. This is the way. By the time Oasis concluded their initial run of UK and Ireland reunion dates I had watched their whole set from every location, and monitored the set lists closely for any deviations, of which, there were none!
To be continued …