Oasis - where did it all go wrong?

It was the first night of the Oasis tour last night. The second coming if you believed the frothing fans online. Anyone who has spent 400 quid on a ticket would have to convince themselves it was. Money well spent I guess.

I don't think anyone is worth that much for a ticket, especially not to stand among thousands of coked up fans dousing themselves and everyone around them in lager.

But I'm a jaded old fart. And I've seen them a handful of times anyway.

As such, I wasn't in the least interested in applying for tickets. Neither were my kids - they laughed when I suggested it. The Proms and musical theatre is more their bag. I would have been laughing at them at their age back in the day. Hey, what do I know?

It got me thinking, how did they get big? It is a phenomenon that I think you can only put down to nostalgia for their mid-nineties heyday. Looking at the set list, it could have been from the concerts when I saw them - last time in 2002 in Finsbury Park. They realised quite early that they'd never surpass the first two albums, which is why they contribute almost the entire set to this day.

As an aside, Finsbury Park left me with an abiding loathing of such blokey megagigs. It was horrible - nasty aggressive crowd, worshipping a bloated band believing their own hype. I really hope that the current run isn't overpopulated by obnoxious Liam wannabes and that there are some younger fans and women to civilise the crowd. 

Back to the reliance on two albums. It's not necessarily a bad thing. AC/DC's set has been dominated by Back in Black and Let There be Rock for years. Another brother led band dismissed by the critics.

I was listening to Definitely Maybe earlier - the first time in years. I'd forgotten how good it is actually, and how different from later work. It's rawer and more varied. The massively catchy singalongs are there - Live Forever, Supersonic, Rock and Roll Star - but there's more leftfield songs such as the mildly trippy Columbia, and the magnificent Slide Away. If any song from that era shows a band that's 4Real, it's this. Liam's impassioned vocals are shredded, like Lennon on Twist and Shout, as he pushes harder to reach for some different and exalted future than the one due a lad like him from Burnage.  

Maybe that's where the connection with fans come from. He got out. For all his later bluster, there's a desperation about Liam in the early days. Noel had a talent for songwriting and might have gone elsewhere to try again if Oasis had flopped. Liam had no Plan B. If it hadn't worked out, it's not hard to picture him as a bitter pub bore, whose eye you'd be careful not to meet. His acolytes are left with the chippiness, the aggression, and the sense of failure. A night out with like-minded lads is their career highlight. Just don't get in the way.

Blimey! This has got dark.

I do actually like Oasis, despite these musings, and I think they're important - they definitely say a lot about British masculinity, although not all of it good. And fair play to them, despite the piss taking ticket prices, they are back together for people who plainly adore them. How many Led Zeppelin fans would pay as much, and more, to see a reformed band, even as Page and Plant in their 70s? 

Enjoy your Champagne Supernova.

The ultimate self pity party

I've just found this in the drafts file from a few months back. I wasn't going to post it but rereading it changed my mind, mainly because I don't feel like that now. I was experiencing some health issues which have alleviated. 

It's a reminder of how low poor health can make you feel. Again, I feel a lot better now.

"I'm going through a bit of a trough at the minute. Health as is often the case is probably the root cause. On top of my underlying condition, I seem to have picked up a back ailment which I can't seem to shake. (Probably not a great idea to try and shake a dodgy back anyway. Ho ho.)

It's leaving me feeling pretty worthless just now. It already seems that I can't do much and I'm now bringing even less to the party. About the one thing that I'm any use for in this family - driving - is now really uncomfortable for any length of journey. I don't actually like driving any more - I'm constantly imagining carking it at the wheel which doesn't make for very restful travel.

I recently had a financial review and the only thing I could think of was how long it was until I could retire. Not that I have any grand plans. My big hobby is now gone. Travel has no allure for me - I don't like going anywhere further than a couple of miles from my house. Everything seems to be gradually losing its flavour. 

Catastrophically I was thinking that nothing brings me pleasure, but that's not true. I still enjoy reading, music, noodling on the guitar... But other things, less so. Travel I've mentioned. Food and drink is a bit of a minefield or a mindfield, because there's so much I feel guilty about having. I'm less sociable, partly because I don't feel as if anyone would want to have me inflicted on them. (Jeez, this is starting to feel like a letter to Frasier Crane.)

Hopefully this is a passing phase. Self pity is not an attractive quality in anyone. I'm luckier than many, it needs to be said, even if I don't always feel it. The kids are a constant delight and my wife is amazing although god knows why she puts up with me when I'm like this. 

I'm probably not going to post this but leave it in the drafts file. It's all a bit pointless (this piece, not existence!) but I needed to get some of it off my chest. I'm not really accentuating the positive today 10.4.25."

All I want for Christmas

The call came in a department store so I found it difficult to take in. My eldest was telling me that his mum had fallen over and hurt herself - her head.

They were at Battersea Power Station ice skating and she had fallen. Another voice came on the line. An adult who seemed reassuring and said something about needing to go to hospital for stitches. 

It was worrying but seemed manageable. I spoke briefly to my wife who didn't seem too bad. The call was over as they were about to get a taxi.

I headed home and didn't realise I was getting follow up texts from both sons. Then I spotted a missed call. They were increasingly worried about their mum who didn't seem to know who they were. It sounded bad. They were talking about a brain scan.

My anxiety level went through the roof. I was more than two hours away on a holiday travel day with a dodgy heart that I wasn't sure would react well to this stress.

My father in law offered to drive when I called to tell him what was happening. He'd already been to London that day but offered anyway. I don't know if I could have done it - I was so shaky.

On the journey, the news got better. She'd been seen and had the scan. There didn't seem to be anything badly wrong. She had stitches in the wound and was more present than she had been. She knew who they were and maybe even who I was.

I started to calm down. By the time I got there she was almost ready to be discharged. She looked confused and a bit frightened but a lot better than I had been expecting. The doctor said she could go home or stay overnight for observation. I just wanted to get her home.

The conventions at this time of year are all about family and togetherness but I don't know if it has ever hit me like that before. When something bad happens to someone you love it is unbearable. The release I felt when the worst didn't come to pass was immense.

So I don't have to think too hard about what I want for Christmas. It's the same as ever - for us to be okay and together. 

Postscript to this is how proud I was of the boys in handling yesterday. It's the second time in recent months that the eldest has been in a situation that was a test. He acted calmly and clearly even though he was very distressed by what was happening. They looked after each other and their mother is a way that makes my battered old heart swell.

Now, if we could just have a few boring, uneventful months.

America in 2024

 'An old, blind, mad, despised and dying king.'

In the lead up to the US election I was resigned to a Trump win. He'd been leading for an age and despite Harris's late dead cat bounce, seemed to be on track to become prez. 

And yet... The mood music of the last few days hinted at a different outcome and like many, I allowed myself to be seduced. It's the hope that kills you.

Never underestimate the US's love of cheap gas and a carnival barker preying on their worst instincts. Not all of Trump's voters are racists and misogynists but all of the racists and misogynists voted for him.

Harris was an uninspiring candidate dealt a completely shit hand with 100 days to go. So, it could be argued that you can't blame people for picking the populist they know. But you can blame them for believing anything he says. He was a flailing president last time with an anti-Midas touch who lowered America in the eyes of the world.

In a decent society, Trump wouldn't be within a million miles of the candidacy given what we know of him. Is he really the best the US can offer?

Watching this angry and exhausted old man giving yet another rambling speech yesterday, it still beggars belief that the country has fallen for a conman who will piss on them and tell them it's raining.

As for the UK's 'special relationship', well it wasn't that special last time (nor under Obama TBH). Trump got to meet the Queen, so what else can we offer? Maybe Starmer's planning reforms will allow him to lay out a few more golf courses but he doesn't need us. Europe seems to have realised this and will cling together for strength while we shiver on the sidelines.

So four more years of this. Scarily, this time he's come packing a toolbox of ideological wingnuts like Vance and Musk so his capacity to wreak havoc will be even greater.

Frightening times. When America shits the bed, we all get a whiff of the stink. 

Better than me

When I was in my teens, me and a mate, Paul used to go through periods when we would try and get 'superfit'. This typically involved getting up before school and going for runs round the quiet streets of our market town. Maybe we'd throw in some sits ups along the way. Anyway, it usually lasted a few days maybe a week at most - before tailing off, until the next time we started the cycle again.

In the past couple of months my youngest has taken to going running in the evening with one of his schoolmates. They do a couple of miles round a local park but unlike me and Paul, they've been doing it continuously with only the odd night off if one is ill or there's something else in the calendar. 

They just started doing it - I'm not entirely sure why. They've now joined a local running club and have started training a couple of days a week on top of their own runs.

He's already proved himself to be an accomplished young actor with roles in school productions and local drama groups. And he's book smart too.

As is his brother, who in recent years has also flourished as a musician. Performing with the school and county orchestra, and writing his own compositions. He's even being invited to conduct the orchestra at an upcoming school concert. I can't wait to see that.

Obviously I'm very proud of them both. It's amazing to see how they have developed as young men and to ponder how much, or possibly how little, it has to do with me (I won't speak for my wife as she has definitely done more to shape them - positively - than I have).

It never ceases to amaze and delight me how they have emerged. When they were young, it's hard to imagine that you will ever be less than indispensable to them. But as they get older, the times you are called on get fewer and fewer - dad's cab and cash mainly.

I sort of missed the points at which they outstripped me at so many things. You can just about pin the time when they're suddenly taller than you - not much of a challenge that one - but when did they become stronger, faster, actors, musicians, more creative, more empathetic...?

There's not much left for me. I can still cook better - that's a crown neither seems interested in. I think I'm funnier, but that is probably a matter of taste.

And you know what? I don't care. They're great young people that I'm blessed to have in my life - pardon the mushiness. My competitive dad days are over. It's time to bask in their light.

24 hours in A&E

Well, not quite but currently about 10 hours and counting.

Went out for a bike ride with my son today. I haven't been very active lately due to a combination of COVID and an almost back to back series of lower limb ailments since summer.

I'm constantly trying to restart some degree of fitness kick in the hope that it will help with my various issues.

My son had asked about cycling this week so it seemed like a good opportunity to combine a healthy ride with dad-son time.

It wasn't an especially energetic ride but there were a few hills and I was struggling on these to the extent that I decided to shorten the ride and just get home. 

With a couple of miles to go I was feeling sufficiently puffed and with some tightness of the chest to stop and have a puff of the GTN spray I carry everywhere.

However, rather than helping it seemed to make me very lightheaded and my vision became almost psychedelic. My son said I was yawning a lot and wasn't responding to him. He thinks I blacked out at one point.

We were in a park and luckily there was a man there who helped. My son, who is 16, was immense, calling the emergency services, providing them with details of what happened and where we were, and looping in my wife who was elsewhere.

The guy was great. He was an Afghani gentleman who had worked for the government in Kabul but couldn't stay when it all kicked off. He literally gave me the shirt off his back as I was shivering so much, as well as providing a blanket and trackie bottoms. He offered for us to come to his home but I was pretty shaky and my son didn't want to walk too far. I'm so grateful to both of them.

I'm also very grateful to my sister in law who raced over from her house to pick us up and take us to the hospital. The ambulance looked like being a long time coming. 

I thought that this was a heart attack. I'm still waiting for results but feeling a lot better now, to the extent of being antsy about being here. I know I shouldn't be. It's busy, as it always is but the staff are calm and caring. I feel I'm in good hands but I would like to get home before that 24 figure becomes reality.

It's good to be back

Oasis are returning and dads of Britain are getting very excited.

Everyone has their Oasis connection - they were omnipresent in the late 90s. And with a reunion tour rumoured to include 10 nights at Wembley, there will be room for all. Whether they retain (or have ever had) that level of appeal is another matter.

I saw them four times in their pomp and that's probably enough for me. The idea of standing among coked up Oasis fans in a football stadium that still reminds me of how badly behaved England fans can be, is as appealing as having my eyebrows plucked - something the metrosexual Gallaghers of 2024 probably know more about than their oikish younger selves.

The first time I saw them was just before Definitely Maybe came out. The early singles were the most exciting things I'd heard in years and I got tickets for their show at the Kentish Town Town & Country Club which was about 10 minutes walk from where I lived in Chalk Farm.

Surprisingly, the gig was pretty flat through a combination of unfamiliarity with the album, which wasn't yet out, and a standoff between bolshie band and an entitled London crowd. I maintain that if they'd played a week later when people had heard how brilliant Definitely Maybe was, they'd have blown the roof off.

The next live appearance was on the morning of the release of What's the Story at a 'secret' gig at the old Oxford Street Virgin Megastore. In a sign of things to come Liam stropped off drunk so I never got his signature on my copy of the album - Noel's is though.

A couple of months later they redeemed themselves with a great pre-Christmas gig at the Hammersmith Palais which was probably their peak for me. The two things that stick in my mind have nothing to do with the show itself though. It was where two friends, who are now married, got together, and I bumped into underachieving singer songwriter Nikki Sudden (a slight obsession of mine) at the bar.

After that high point it was a while before I saw them again. I had no interest in the Knebworth love in, but for some reason decided it would be a good idea to see them in Finsbury Park in 2002, probably because it was nearish to where I lived in Hackney.

Bad idea actually. The crowd was a menacing, belligerent bunch of mainly men, off their heads and bellowing at the few women there to 'get 'em out'. It really didn't feel safe for women.

And the band themselves were bored and boring. I was glad to get away from there with my then girlfriend, now wife. I don't think either of us were that bothered about Oasis for a long time after that.

Yet, they still linger and I'm not completely immune to their charms. It's just that they seem slightly comic nowadays. The cutting description of Liam as "one of the great anorak wearers of our times" still makes me snigger.

As an amateur strummer, I have a certain respect for Noel's gift with melody. You only have to play that Em7 chord and warble "Today is gonna be the day..." to have the rest of the room chime in.

But see them live again? No thanks. If they meant anything to my kids I might sort out the inevitably overpriced tickets, but if they're even on their radar, it's as a bit of a joke band - the old guys with the big eyebrows.

Hopefully there will be enough multigenerational and mixed sex groups at the upcoming shows to make them more joyous and less sinister than the last time I saw them. Both Liam and Noel are dads themselves now and it's always been a family affair.

For me though, I think I'll wait for the inevitable showing on the idiot box. That's as close as I need to be this time. Definitely... maybe...

White riot

Worrying times in England. The last few nights have seen coordinated rioting in mainly northern English towns and cities - Leeds, Liverpool, Manchester, Hull, Rotherham.

It's rioting weather - hot and warm. The schools are on holiday. There's no football on and possibly lingering grievance that England didn't win the Euros.

The spark was a horrific attack on a children's event in Southport that left three girls dead. This has been weaponised by online right wing provocateurs calling for protests against immigration - the attacker was actually a British national.

As often with these outbreaks copycat events have occurred. At the moment, it feels like things are teetering on the edge and police are struggling to cope.

The obvious comparison is the rioting of 2011. The genesis was different but the rapid spread, the descent into violence and looting, and the overwhelming of police forces all looks horribly familiar.

There are big differences though. There is a racist element to this rioting. Asylum seeker hotels are being targeted. Shops and businesses owned by minority groups have been targeted. Black people have been attacked by racists.

It's nauseating to see the cocky way in which young white men have embraced these riots. Any cover that they were in some ways protests about Southport disappeared pretty quickly. They've devolved into a coke and booze fuelled carnivals of idiocy by prats in balaclavas and track suits. Parading their battered streets with twin armed salutes at possibly the most meaningful moment in their lives. Hold that smile lads - it's all on camera.

There will inevitably be long sentences for many of these dickheads, and so there should be. It's not a crime to be thick and gullible but it'll get you banged up.

Hopefully there will also be comeuppance for those who have thrown fuel on the fire, whether that's the keyboard warriors who spread disinformation and organised riots, or the snake tongued politicians like Farage who give them succour and encouragement. Shame on them.

For now it's sad and concerning as another night of increasingly violent rioting looms. As in the hot summer in 2011, I'm hoping for a downpour to dampen the enthusiasm of fairweather knuckle draggers.

Of course, a year after the 2011 riots came the triumphant London Olympics of 2012 which still feel like a hug around the country. 

Don't let the idiots win. There are more of us than them.