Three years ago today, I was knifed.
And by knifed, I mean Noel Gallagher released the following statement: “It’s with some sadness and great relief to tell you that I quit Oasis tonight. People will write and say what they like, but I simply could not go on working with Liam a day longer.”
Oasis has never been my favorite band (that title belongs to the Beatles). I don’t have the deepest emotional connection to Oasis (that, too, would be with the Beatles). I don’t even admire them the most as individuals (…the Beatles, of course).
But they’re pretty close.
“I let you turn off the Beatles, so I could watch THIS?!” — Me, circa 1995/6
I despised Oasis at the peak of their fame; I was seven, obsessed with the Beatles, and watching A Hard Day’s Night for the fiftieth time when I was hoodwinked into watching an Oasis concert because they played with a huge picture of John Lennon in the background and even played with the Beatles. After twelve years of bitterness and one chance listening of “Live Forever,” I embraced this abrasive, arrogant, fearless band. I counted down the days until the release of Dig Out Your Soul. I traveled eight plus hours to see them in concert, where I could have had the worst possible seats in the entire world and it wouldn’t have mattered–it still would have been as amazing and exhilarating as it was with the-almost-worst-possible-seats-in-the-world. When I left home for school the first time, with my parents and younger sister in tow, we listened to (What’s the Story) Morning Glory the entire drive. And when I felt homesick those first few weeks away from home and didn’t quite feel like going down to Strawberry Fields, I listened to Oasis. And when I finally came home one weekend, it was spent jointly celebrating the birth of my mother and Liam Gallagher, replete with marathons of Oasis concert videos and a cake that read “Happy birthday Linda and Liam.” Y’know–the usual.
The band celebrates Liam’s 33rd birthday in Denver, Colorado, 2005. Precious.
And so when this band bowed out, it hurt. When the Beatles disbanded, John Lennon responded to the public’s continual overdramatization of the split: “It’s just natural, it’s not a great disaster. People keep talking about it like it’s The End of The Earth. It’s only a rock group that split up, it’s nothing important. You know, you have all the old records there if you want to reminisce.” And he was right. It’s not that important. And the records are still there. But when the one band you love who isn’t dead or broken up or on an indefinite hiatus or old and irrelevant breaks up, it still kind of hurts.
And I love Beady Eye. And Noel Gallagher and his high flyin’ birds. Or turds. Or smurfs. Or whatever they’re called. But I still miss this little band that once was the biggest and best band…
I miss their arrogance.
I miss their brotherly love.
I miss their b-sides.
I even miss their Umbro jogging suits.
And it’s not important. And it’s not the end of the world. It’s only natural.
But I still miss them.