This blog has been rather quiet recently, mainly because of such taxing summer engagements as holidays, festivals and tours. I apologise. However, during my sojourn I was dragged to Melt festival – a terrifying three day ‘techno party’ held in a disused quarry a couple of hours outside Berlin. The train to Dessau, the nearest town, was stuffed with militant ravers. It was only when one of my companions handed me a programme that I spotted Oasis on the bill. Never has their name held such resonance.
For them, this was the equivalent of playing the Camden Barfly; 8000 people as opposed to their recent run of gigs in front of 80,000 at Wembley. And it was sublime. Liam swaggered, but drank water and refrained from undergoing his notorious metamorphosis from rock star to oaf. He and Noel didn’t exchange an angry word. And they didn’t bore anyone with new material. My companions and I sang and drank and acted like it was 1994.
So I’d be lying to say I wasn’t just a little smug when the tabloids splashed what seems to be a bona fide curtain call for Oasis across their covers. I saw them. At their smallest gig in over 10 years. Sorry to gloat, but I did.
