Guilty Pleasure with No Fringe Benefits

“In Russia, nostalgia is regarded as an illness,” declared comedian Simon Munnery once, “or at least it used to be, in the good old days.” Oasis, the band that epitomized nostalgia for British rock from 30 years ago, is reuniting. Cocaine dealers in Britain are already gearing up for the demand as thousands of middle-aged men prepare to stand in stadiums next summer, engaging in frivolous conversations during gigs they’ve paid hundreds of pounds to attend. Despite the associated dark side, like the casualties of the South American drug trade, I wish I could be there.

Once upon a time, it was awkward when bands re-formed, like watching your dad dance awkwardly at a wedding. But when 70s New York band Television regrouped in 1992, I was thrilled. I knew all the solos on Marquee Moon by heart, although I couldn’t see them in 77 because I was only eight. Back then, bands didn’t typically reunite unless to cash in on the nostalgia circuit, where my mum once saw PJ Proby disappointingly not split his trousers on demand. Nostalgia, she observed, wasn’t what it used to be.

Proby’s gimmick of splitting his trousers seemed like pathetic showbiz, but I spent 2017 with a routine where I deliberately made my trousers fall down 254 times. Live long enough, and you’ll eventually become someone you once pitied. But PJ Proby and I, we are professionals. As for Liam Gallagher, who once got so drunk he declared war on Switzerland during the fade of “D’ You Know What I Mean?”—can we say the same?

They were a mighty full stop, consolidating the past and boldly nailing all the best bits together, the Trigger’s broom of pop

When the studious Television took the stage in London in 1992, the 24-year-old me was amazed at their brilliance, although I thought they were impossibly old; guitarist Richard Lloyd was 41! Television remained sporadically brilliant for the next 30 years until Tom Verlaine’s death finally ended hopes for their long-delayed fourth album. Interestingly, similar circumstances didn’t stop Tupac Shakur from producing much of his best work posthumously. What can we expect from the Gallagher brothers next summer, who, at a combined age of 108, are older than all five Beatles put together when they went to Hamburg in 1960?

In the last three decades, I’ve watched numerous re-emerged artists. Some, like Love and Nic Jones, played their hits; others, like the Stooges and the Soft Boys, released accompanying albums for added authenticity. Some artists, such as Patti Smith and Slowdive, began significant second careers. Five years ago, I even stumbled into my local, the Shacklewell Arms, to see the Zeros, actually the 70s LA Latino punks of “Beat Your Heart Out” fame, performing with original members. Did I dream it, like the time I had a nightmare I was on stage and then woke up to find I was?

Oasis is a guilty pleasure for a pseudo-intellectual like me, and their split as Falling Down hinted at a populist, stadium-sized psychedelia. Much is made of Alan McGee’s eye for talent, boss of Oasis’s first label Creation, but he also signed some questionable acts. Still, Oasis was his golden find.

Before Oasis, Creation Records followed indie rock’s upward creative arc. Moonshake blended Can and PiL, the Boo Radleys delved into shoegaze psychedelia, and My Bloody Valentine invented a new genre. However, Oasis was a bold consolidation of all past influences. They represented a massive, if mighty, full stop in music history. Has that creative momentum ever been regained?

Oasis bridged generations, with parents and kids sharing a love for their Beatles-Pistols hybrid sound. They were arguably the last national pop sensation before the internet fragmented musical consensus. Even in times of grief, such as the Manchester arena bombing in 2017, it was Oasis’s “Don’t Look Back In Anger” that people sang. My Bloody Valentine wouldn’t have inspired a mass singalong of their complex sound.

The Oasis reunion already has one unintended consequence. In Edinburgh, a Holiday Inn Express room for the first two nights of their Murrayfield shows next August now costs £1,300 due to anticipated demand. This surge in prices threatens to wreck the budget of performers and audiences of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, potentially jeopardizing the first two weeks of the event. So, while Oasis’s reunion is a cause for celebration for fans, it’s also creating unintended fallout, singlehandedly putting additional strain on an already challenged arts community. Sorted!

Source: The Observer