It was more than just a concert. It was a moment of collective memory, a promise finally fulfilled. On July 4, 2025 – American Independence Day – the United Kingdom celebrated its very own reunion: that of Noel and Liam Gallagher. Oasis is back. After 16 years of silence, conflict, and rumors of reconciliation, the legendary Britpop band took the stage together again in Cardiff. And delivered nothing less than an electrifying declaration of allegiance to an era that never truly disappeared. 60,000 people packed the Principality Stadium in the Welsh capital to the last seat. They came from all over the country, from Ireland, Germany, Japan, and Brazil – for a night they never thought would happen. The band’s last chords had faded in Paris in 2009, accompanied by a hurled guitar, broken microphone stands, and years of silence between the brothers. But on Friday night – at least for two hours – none of that seemed to matter. One banner in the crowd said it all: “The great wait is over.” Even the opening was dramatic. Old headlines about the eternal quarrels between the Gallagher brothers flickered across the screen, followed by the words: “The guns have fallen silent.” Then the thunderous “Hello” rang out through the stadium – with its telling refrain: “It’s good to be back.” And it was good. Better than good. It was an event. Liam Gallagher, 52, in a parka, with tambourine and undiminished arrogance, roared into the microphone as if not a single day had passed since “Definitely Maybe.” Noel, 58, stood solid beside him, focused on his guitar, taciturn, sovereign. There was a brief moment of brotherhood – a raised arm, a shared pose – but otherwise they kept a respectful distance from each other. The music spoke for itself.
The setlist was a victory lap through two of the defining albums of the 1990s: “Definitely Maybe” and “(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?” There were thunderous versions of “Supersonic,” “Roll With It,” and “Rock ’n’ Roll Star.” The crowd sang every word – from the depths of their lungs and with glassy eyes. During “Cigarettes and Alcohol,” Liam told the crowd: “Put your arms over each other like you love each other.” And they did. Thousands of them. One of the most emotional moments of the night came with “Live Forever,” when an image of Liverpool striker Diogo Jota, who had recently died in a car crash, appeared above the stage. It was silent – as silent as it can be in a stadium full of people. Noel took over vocals here and there, including on the tender anthem “Half the World Away,” before the concert closed with a triple shot of nostalgia: “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” “Wonderwall,” and “Champagne Supernova.” It doesn’t get more 1990s than that. It doesn’t get more Oasis than that. Technically, the concert was restrained – no over-the-top production, just subtly psychedelic projections in soft colors. The focus was entirely on the music. At one point, Liam asked the crowd: “Was it worth the 40,000 pounds you paid for the ticket?” A joke – or a jab at the ticket frenzy that had overshadowed this comeback. Because the run on tickets was enormous. The UK tour sold out within minutes, online queues lasted hours, prices skyrocketed. Many fans paid over 350 pounds for standing room, hoping to witness a piece of music history. Even Parliament in Westminster addressed the pricing practices of Ticketmaster, which is now facing legal pressure from regulators.
But despite it all – or perhaps because of it – the night in Cardiff was more than just a nostalgic gathering. It was a sacred moment for a generation that grew up with Oasis. Rob Maule from Edinburgh said before the show: “For us, it’s an entire chapter of our lives. And now we’re passing it on to our kids.” Next to him stood childhood friends, reunited like they had been 30 years ago. Vicki Moynehan, heavily pregnant, had come too – from Dorchester, 400 kilometers away. “Seven months – but that won’t stop me.” It’s that mix of irony, pathos, and working-class charm that has always defined Oasis. Born into a working-class family in Manchester, the band rose to cultural superpower status in the early 1990s. Eight number-one albums, stadium tours around the world – and a never-ending sibling rivalry as public drama. “Liam is like a man with a fork in a world of soup,” Noel once said. Liam called his brother “Tofu Boy.” That they’re now on stage together again borders on a miracle. There’s no new music planned – the tour is billed as a one-time event. But that’s enough. Eighteen more concerts lie ahead – through the UK, Ireland, North and South America, Asia, and Australia. The journey ends on November 23 in São Paulo. Until then, the memory of that first night in Cardiff remains – the collective exhale that began when the first notes rang out. The feeling that some things really can be healed. One fan summed it up perfectly: “I’m the oldest of four brothers – I know how often you fight. But tonight, they’re going to enjoy it. And we’ll enjoy it with them. It’s going to be the best.”
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