Oasis’s Triumphant Manchester Comeback: We Were There!

“Wait, don’t tell me why you’re here, let me guess,” says the person next to us on the Paris to Manchester flight at 11:05 AM, this Thursday, July 10, 2025. He implies: “You’re not here to visit Chetham’s Library, where Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels discussed class struggles, capital, and labor conditions.” We reply, even though he meant it as a rhetorical statement: “Of course, I’m here for the Oasis reunion concert. I was there when they split, I need to see this!” You can’t fool John Freeman. By the random seat assignment by the airline, we ended up next to a former journalist from the online magazine The Quietus, a musical reference in Britain. This guy has interviewed all sorts of respectable people, including the legendary Johnny Marr.

The concert is set to take place at Heaton Park, in the north of the city – and here we speak of a residence, since the band will perform five sold-out shows to 80,000 fans. Like us, will John witness the return of the Gallagher brothers to their home turf, sixteen years after their split at Rock en Seine in 2009? “No, you know, I was at Maine Road in 1996, the peak of their career, an unforgettable memory for me. Their music might not be the most complex, but it has the power to unite people and generations,” he says, emotion tinting his voice. Maine Road was the old stadium for Manchester City, the football club supported by Liam and Noel Gallagher. The stadium for the workers and the tough guys. Today, the site has been redeveloped into housing that the city needed. The center circle has even become a roundabout, featured on the cover of the latest album by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds.

Keep Manchester Weird

Manchester is a peculiar place. To start, the weather is radiant, almost Californian. We’ve been told for years about the gloom, the cold, the concrete, yet here we are, stepping into Santa Monica. At the airport, while waiting for a taxi, a guy approaches us with his small suitcase: “Listen, let’s share the taxi, I’m fair. You drop me on the way, I pay, it’s fair I tell you.” He carries a breath that could raise your blood alcohol level just by the fumes. In the car, he almost misses his seat as he sits down. “I’m Lee, I love people. Oh, God, I love people. Lee loves people,” he refers to himself in the third person. It’s unclear what he means, except that he’s from Belfast and he spends his life on planes for work. He seems like a Monty Python character who escaped from a Danny Boyle film.

“Oh, you’re here for the Oasis concert?!” He puts his head in his hands and forces a smile, as if to say “of course!” He grabs our arm: “Noel’s my mate! We’re friends. We met 20 years ago in Suffolk.” He doesn’t elaborate on how they met, but defines himself as a unifier, much like Oasis. After just three minutes of what could have been a walkable journey to his transit hotel, he hands a few bills to the driver, shakes our hands: “I hope you meet more people like me.” He leaves, fair as promised.

A City in the Colors of Oasis

If Manchester had hosted the world fair, it couldn’t have done more to celebrate the event. Oasis is everywhere, on every street corner, on buses, tram stops, in shop windows, sandwiched between tracks by The Smiths blaring from speakers scattered around the northern English city. Official shops are set up at every corner, where people queue for ages. Oasis songs spill from bars and everyone walks around in t-shirts and lad caps. Theme nights are even organized. Even those who didn’t get tickets for one of the five shows. “No, no, we’re not interested in your questions,” a local shoves us away, somewhat frustrated. We don’t push it. Oasis doesn’t mean the same to a Mancunian as it does to any other yokel from elsewhere. Two South Korean pals, however, cling to us. They’ve spent tens of thousands of won to be part of this. They hit Cardiff on July 4, which kicked off the 2025 tour, Manchester, and even plan to be at Wembley in London.

We encounter them near the old Broadwalk, deep in pilgrimage, ceaseless in their passion for the band. This old building, refurbished, used to host a concert hall and rehearsal boxes; this is where Oasis worked on the sessions for their first album, Definitely Maybe (1994). And who do we run into? John Robb! Believe it or not, we stumble upon this punk pioneer, member of the Membranes, journalist, and companion of the Gallaghers. He too played with his band at the Broadwalk. He’s the living memory of the city, interviewed several times in Les Inrocks. “Ah, so you’re doing your little tour of the city! You should check out Bonehead’s house, where they shot the cover for the first album. And Noel’s first apartment in Manchester is just a few blocks from here, on Whitworth Street.” He has a loud and intimidating voice, and bursts into contagious laughter at the end of each sentence. After giving us a video rundown on Oasis’s early 1990s sessions at the Broadwalk, he wanders the streets of his city like an anthropologist, before tomorrow’s concert.

D-Day

Friday, July 11, a day of glory. Before heading to Heaton Park, we catch a taxi to Burnage, the small town in Greater Manchester where Liam and Noel grew up. A small crowd of fans gathers in front of Sifters on Fog Lane, the record store where the brothers got their musical education. In Shakermaker, Liam sings: “Mister Sifter sold me songs/When I was just sixteen.” Mister Sifter is Pete Howard, who continues to run his shop, still in its original state, where you can find plenty of soul, Sinatra classics, Glen Campbell, indie rock, and even Sacha Distel. Pete is tucked away behind his counter, interviewed by TV crews from around the world. We bump into an Italian, also on a pilgrimage: “I’m just a step away from going to the Gallagher’s mother’s house, but that would be really too much.”

We arrive at Heaton Park after a tram journey. Luckily, we have VIP access, with bracelets, to the area right in front of the stage. At 6 PM, Cast, the band of the bassist from The La’s, takes the stage under a blazing sun for a flawless set. Then it’s Richard Ashcroft’s turn, the elder statesman of The Verve, to deliver a top-notch performance, stringing together The Drugs Don’t Work, Lucky Man, and Bitter Sweet Symphony. The crowd sings along to every word. Behind us, the more VIP than VIP area slowly fills up: Ricky Gervais, a local celebrity we don’t know, and Pep Guardiola, the revered coach of Manchester City, celebrated for bringing the Champions League to the city.

Legendary

Guardiola, we see him too on stage as it is set up to welcome Oasis. Above the football team’s banner, a figurine of the Spaniard stands in tribute. Roland Barthes would have a field day spotting all the little mythologies of the band, from the details of Liam’s tambourine to Noel’s taciturn expression as he leans over his guitar.

At 8:15 PM, the screens light up and the sun is still shining brightly. The instrumental Fuckin’ In the Bushes blares out. Classic, yet irresistible. Then the brothers appear, hand in hand, arms raised to the crowd. Beyond the reconciliation of two stubborn heads, one can’t help but see a symbol that the time of national rifts, wars, and quarrels is not inevitable—we allow ourselves to be naive. The show kicks off for two hours of what will be, from our perspective, an almost intimate show, quickly forgetting that behind us a sea of 75,000 people are also witnessing the event.

It starts with Hello, with fitting lyrics: “It’s good to be back.” Then comes Acquiesce, a significant track as Liam and Noel share verses and chorus, as if to crystallize a reunion awaited by a nation for ages. Liam, eyes closed, head tilted towards the sky while Noel sings his part with his traditional strained voice, remains one of the evening’s enduring images. Then come Morning Glory, Some Might Say, Bring It On Down. The mood is jubilant among the audience, and a shower of warm beer drenches us. We’re soaked. When it’s time for Cigarettes & Alcohol, Liam asks the front row to turn their backs to the stage. The crowd complies and bellows from the opening riffs. It’s only the sixth song.

Fireworks

We continue with Fade Away, Supersonic, and Roll With It. Then Liam leaves the stage, as usual, signaling that Noel will perform a few of his songs: Talk Tonight, beautiful, Half the World Away, and a Little By Little sung with such fervor by the fans that it seems it’s already time for Don’t Look Back in Anger. Liam returns. He dedicates the next song to Pep Guardiola, the world’s best coach: D’You Know What I Mean?, in a shorter and more powerful version. Stand By Me, Cast No Shadow (dedicated to Richard Ashcroft, nothing changes, indeed), Slide Away, Whatever. When the time for Live Forever comes, it’s a Kodak moment. Everyone is screaming their lungs out, clinging to their neighbor, crying like a baby in Combray. In Liam’s eyes, you can see he would give up all the billions generated by the reunion to keep this moment intact.

He speaks. The next track will be the last, but what a track, he promises: Rock’n’Roll Star—we know it’s not really the last. Usually, this is how Oasis concerts start. It feels like everything is about to begin anew. Except that, curtain—it’s not really the end. The band leaves the stage, then returns a few minutes later, without the tough guy Liam. It’s The Masterplan, performed by an evidently moved Noel Gallagher. Then the first notes of Don’t Look Back In Anger sound, in the declining sun. The stage lights up with warm lights, Heaton Park sings as one. Liam returns: Wonderwall. This is no longer just a concert, but a contest with the applause meter to see who will most devastate the tender souls gathered tonight. As often, it’s Champagne Supernova that concludes the set. Hood over the head for Liam.

Powerful, flawless, ideal. Something happened tonight. A bit like for Parisians, last year, during the Olympics. A return to something essential, a semblance of unity. A cover-up, the cynics might say. We should listen to the less enthusiastic: in town, we met a young guy who said he hated Oasis, precisely because he grew up in Manchester. He, eagerly awaits the return of Britney Spears. It changes nothing; these two hours of concert were well worth all the money in the world. We could have witnessed a two-penny farce; instead, we got a lesson in living together, joy, and emotion. Not sure the world is saved, but it’s something. Let’s not forget to check out what’s happening elsewhere, Manchester is full of treasures. After the show, fireworks burst, lighting up Manchester’s dark sky. Time to head home.