“I can’t tell you the way I feel
Because the way I feel is oh, so new to me”
I saw Oasis on October 15, 1994, at the Metro in Chicago. They had broken big in the UK and came to the States with significant buzz from their debut album Definitely Maybe, but no hits (yet). The Metro is a general admission club with a capacity of 1,100. It’s a very small venue for a band that could already fill major arenas back in Britain.
It didn’t take long to figure out that Oasis was going to happen. They were not going to be that band from Europe that didn’t translate. While their music felt familiar (they wore their ‘60s rock inspiration on their sleeves), something else was going on. For all the criticism they received for being too Beatle-esque, they were way snottier, full of an attitude that felt dangerous. They were also huge. By huge, I mean their sound.
“I’m feeling supersonic
Give me gin and tonic
You can have it all
But how much do you want it?”
From the moment they stepped onstage until the second they left it, the power of their sonic thrust felt like more than the small venue could contain. It was almost overwhelming. What was so odd was the band’s affect. Main lead singer Liam Gallagher barely moved while he stood in front of the microphone. At the same time, his electric, sneering voice always cut against their sometimes overly sentimental lyrics. He just stood there, with his hands locked behind his back. The “shoegazer” movement was big in the UK in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. Bands like My Bloody Valentine, Stone Roses, Lush, and the Charlatans made great strides in the UK with their woozy, dreamlike sound, and their lead singers carried a similar trait: when they sang, they stood still and stared at their shoes. The difference with Liam Gallagher is that he put his mouth under the microphone with his head tilted toward the ceiling. The way he sang into the mic looked threatening, at least to the mic. He always looked like he was going to take a bite out of it at any moment for some transgression only known to him. It was, in the era of frontmen who were showmen, an unusual way to try to become a rock and roll star.
The band around Liam, led by his brother Noel, who wrote the songs, played guitar, and occasionally sang lead, made no effort to make up for his rigidity. They just stood to the side or behind him and played their instruments. There was very little stage patter. No, “How are we doing tonight, Chicago?!” They ignored the rule book and the clichés that came with it. Yet somehow, it was completely riveting, explosive even. You could feel this music in your bones.
After the show closed, I turned to my friend and said, “We just saw the future of rock and roll.” Don’t ask me how I knew (I’ve been wrong about a lot of things in my life), but I knew. I was as certain of it as I was that our drive back home through Chicago traffic and construction was going to be a complete pain in the ass.
“Please don’t put your life in the hands
Of a rock and roll band
Who’ll throw it all away”
Two years later, with the release of their second album, What’s the Story Morning Glory? there wasn’t an arena in the world that they couldn’t fill. The peak didn’t last long, but was it ever mighty. Subsequent albums were popular worldwide, but in the U.S., the returns diminished. The two brothers began to war with each other. Constant infighting, lineup changes, and far too much substance abuse created too many stories about anything but the music. In 2009, it all came crashing down when a backstage argument between Noel and Liam turned physical right before a headlining gig at a festival in Paris. The band never made it onstage. They didn’t just cancel the night; they canceled the tour, and, ultimately, the band.
Don’t Look Back in Anger is actually the second proper documentary on the band. In 2016, director Mat Whitecross delivered Supersonic, a terrific feature-length look at the band’s beginnings to their peak. Ten years later, Don’t Look Back in Anger, directed by Will Lovelace and Dylan Southern, covers the fall and unlikely rebirth of the newly minted Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductees. Supersonic and Don’t Look Back in Anger would make for one hell of a double bill for fans of the band, but also for lovers of music history. If Supersonic charts the rise, Don’t Look Back in Anger cements a band whose legacy was too rife with chaos (the brothers say so themselves in the film) to allow for a pure appreciation of the music.
The enmity between Liam and Noel was so deep that the brothers did not speak for fifteen years. Their children didn’t know each other. The only time they publicly spoke each other’s names was in a fit of pique. The word “cunt” went back and forth for a decade and a half. Liam and Noel were well known for speaking their minds.
They could be cruel, such as when Noel received an award from Michael Hutchence of INXS, and then implied the Aussie frontman was a “has-been.” Hutchence was genuinely wounded. It’s entirely possible that Noel doesn’t even remember saying it at the time, but it was not endearing. On another occasion, Noel said of Damon Albarn from Blur, “I hope he gets AIDS and dies.” Not to be outdone, when taking a shot at Coldplay and Radiohead, Liam said their music is for people who like to “sit at home and polish their sandals.”
But they saved their most brutal comments for each other. Liam would call Noel a “potato,” a “little tart,” and a “creepy-looking” sellout who “stole” the band’s legacy (Liam was the band’s founder). Noel once colorfully said of Liam, “He’s rude, arrogant, intimidating, and lazy. He’s the angriest man you’ll ever meet. He’s like a man with a fork in a world of soup.”
“I need to be myself
I can’t be no one else”
What’s always been true of the Gallaghers is that they are so irreverent, profane, and over the top that even at their worst, there was something comical about them. I never quite believed they were as bad as their words. How could they be, with songs so anthemic and uplifting? I saw Noel on April 3, 2012, at the Pabst Theater in Milwaukee. In between songs, a fan would shout out recommendations. I mean, after every single song. Eventually, Noel had enough, pointed at the guy, and snarled, “Do I come to your flat and tell you what records to play?” The fan wasn’t offended; he reveled in it. Hell, I found myself feeling jealous of him. I wanted to be the one taking the shots. The mood had changed. There was a playfulness in Noel that replaced the nastiness from before. Dare I say that he seemed to have matured? Liam seemed to have softened, too. I once saw a hysterical clip of him taking questions from grade school children—an activity I would have heretofore cringed at. But Liam was charming, and not a single curse word left his lips. A minor miracle, I thought.
But this apparent mellowing didn’t bridge the chasm between them. What they now had for others (charm and empathy) they did not have for each other. I believed for all the world that Oasis was done. The last decade and a half has seen Noel form a new band (The High Flying Birds), releasing four well-reviewed albums. Liam formed Beady Eye, a band that folded after just two albums, as both records were received with indifference. Liam then went solo, releasing three highly regarded solo albums and a full-length collaboration with John Squire (formerly of The Stone Roses).
It’s not just that they seemed to hate each other; it’s that they didn’t seem to need each other. Both brothers regularly batted down calls for the band to reunite—sometimes with malice. But a funny thing happened on the way to finality: their music stayed popular. In fact, albums that received mixed-to-negative reviews on release were reassessed more fondly. The fan base not only never went away, but it also expanded. Parents handed these songs down to their children, and their children embraced them. One of the most moving sequences (and there are a lot of moving sequences) occurs at the end of a show on their reunion tour. A young fella, maybe not even of driving age, stands by himself after the band leaves the stage. Surrounded by empty plastic beer cups and other refuse, the boy just doesn’t want to leave. It’s as if he wants to soak up the fumes of what he just witnessed. He wipes his eyes. Catches his breath. Slowly puts on his coat in a moment of surrender, knowing he will have to leave soon. This boy wasn’t even born when Oasis was at their peak. He couldn’t have reached the age of reason when they broke up. But there he is, full of emotion and awe.
“Someday you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide”
There is a great deal of emotion and awe in Don’t Look Back in Anger. For a documentary/concert film about the biggest British band since the Beatles, much of the time is spent on the open-armed response of their remarkably diverse fan base. It includes followers from South Korea, Argentina, and Mexico. A young woman (again, surely not alive when the band was formed) speaks to what the band means to her when she says (and I’m paraphrasing from memory) that other bands try to lift you up. Oasis falls down with you and helps you get back up together.
“Hello, hello
(It’s good to be back)
(It’s good to be back)”
The reaction of the audience during the performances further establishes the bond between band and fan. There is so much joy and even disbelief on their faces. They are astonished at what they are witnessing. What once seemed utterly impossible is now true, and they can’t believe their eyes, their ears, or their good fortune. You can see it in their wide, tearing eyes. You can hear it in their full throats. You can practically feel their hearts pounding in their chests and their minds being blown. There is no place in the world they would rather be, but right there, right now.
I have to say, the film is such an immersive experience, thanks to dynamic direction, crisp cinematography, and a sound mix that captures the cacophony of a real concert better than any film I’ve seen, that I often forgot myself from my seat. I rocked back and forth to the beat; I wiped my eyes several times, and once, during a performance of the song that the film takes its title from, I had to cover my face because I was no longer mouthing the words; I was singing along. I became part of the commune, and I bear no embarrassment for it.
Away from the concerts and the cheering hordes, a priest uses the Gallagher brothers in a sermon about forgiveness. The priest: “Then Peter came to him and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” To think that these two former hooligans, who for so long looked and acted like leaders of a street gang, would supply positive fodder for a priest in the house of the lord… how do you get your head around that?
“There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don’t know how”
One thing Don’t Look Back in Anger doesn’t do is delve into the altercation that broke up the band or the animus that led up to it. Liam and Noel somehow bridge the gap between them without ever speaking to it. They are brothers. It’s family shit. They just get on with it and silently forgive. In doing so, they see each other differently. All the things they thought they didn’t like about each other become assets. Liam’s cheeky smart-ass side is now funny, even “delightful” to Noel. And when you see Liam walk off stage, hug Noel, and then point back to him, telling someone off in the corner, “That’s my fookin’ brother,” it’s both moving and hilarious. My god, they hold hands as they walk out to greet the masses awaiting them. Who knows how long this will last, but they appear closer than ever before, and in a healthy way. There’s probably a lesson somewhere in all of that.
Because we need each other
We believe in one another
And I know we’re going to uncover
What’s sleepin’ in our soul
After fifteen years, these two white, Irish (by proud lineage) drinkers singing anthems for the working class returned to the stage and found the world waiting for them. And for a couple of hours, as they hop from country to country, it’s as if Oasis is saving the world, or at least providing an escape from it. Of course, that feeling is temporary and will most surely fade in the face of the many ills of modern life. But it’s not phony. It’s real, and it’s life-affirming. I don’t know how you put a price on that.
As the credits began to roll, I stayed there in my seat, not wanting to leave, listening to the last note before the screen went black, surrounded by empty bags of popcorn and cardboard cups. In that moment, I understood just what that boy was feeling. He had just witnessed Haley’s Comet, and he didn’t want to go home. Not until he memorized every second of what he had just witnessed.
Oh, yeah. I know just how he feels. Don’t Look Back in Anger is compelling, affecting, amusing, and ultimately, breathtaking. It’s also one of the best films of the year.
Don’t Look Back in Anger is in theaters now, with a Disney+ streaming date to be announced.
