Review
Community
Culture
Music
4 min read

Oasis: If feuding brothers can get together again, maybe the country can too

Some might say Liam and Noel Gallagher’s reunion is reminiscent of Joseph, Prince of Egypt.

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

Two middle age rock star brothers pose for the camera in a black and white picture
Any dream will do.
Liamgallagher.com.
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There’s a man with a black rainhat and jacket on the stage swearing at over 50,000 teenagers. It’s Liam Gallagher, the lead singer of Oasis, that iconic 90s rock band. He’s singing his way through the entire Definitely Maybe album to mark the 30-year anniversary of its release. Somehow, these 50,000 teenagers know all the words, as they sing along on a warm summer evening for their rite of passage that is the Reading Festival.  

I feel strangely alone in the crowd. I remember where I was when the album was first released - nobody around me was even born then. On the stage, Liam too is strangely alone. For 15 years he’s been estranged from his brother Noel – the song-writing genius behind all of Oasis’ greatest hits. He’s in a reflective mood as he sings ‘Live Forever’: 

“Maybe I will never be, all the things that Ii want to be, now is not the time to cry, now’s the time to find out why”

(Live Forever) 

This lyric has aged well. Back when Liam was 21 years old, about to be biggest band in the world, about to see their album become the fastest selling debut album of all time, he wasn’t seriously considering the question.  

Back then, fame didn’t seem to suit him. He famously ditched a huge US tour with the band, when he was about to board the plane from Heathrow. He stubbornly refused to go on stage for the MTV unplugged concert at the Royal Festival Hall despite a packed-out audience and a full orchestra on the stage. Maybe it was youth. Maybe it was anxiety. Maybe it was some illegal substance. 

Even now, at Reading, with rumours rife of a reunion tour, Liam seems a little vulnerable. He delivers a brilliant vocal performance to a huge crowd, but his hat covers most of his face for the entire concert. He mentions that he had thought the young people getting their GCSEs might have let their academic excellence go to their heads, but they turned out to be “alright” after all. And then, with more swearing, more swaggering guitar chords and more defiant sneering vocals, there comes more vulnerability:  

Their song brought the country together in a pledge of hope. While terrible things are going on around us in our world, we need all the togetherness and hope we can get.

“All this confusion, nothings the same to me, I can’t tell you the way I feel, because the way I feel is oh so new to me”

(Columbia) 

Liam dedicates “Half a World Away” to his brother Noel, and then the promise of something more… “27/08/2024 8am” is revealed on the huge screen. Is there going to be more to the Oasis story? Could the feuding brothers have buried the hatchet?  Have they listened to their own lyric – don’t look back in anger – and decided to drop the bitterness and animosity and find a new way forward? 

I wonder how the reconciliation happened. I like to imagine it was like Joseph, Prince of Egypt and wearer of coat-of-many-colours, finding himself face-to-face with the brother who tried to murder him all those years earlier, and privately breaking down in tears before declaring “God meant it for good”.  

I like to imagine it was like Joseph’s father Jacob, Patriarch of Israel and hot-headed runaway, returning to his twin brother Esau after two decades of separation, praying he would be received favourably, and overwhelmed when his prayer was answered. 
 
‘Some might say’, excuse the pun, that the timing of this impossible reconciliation is less to do with making peace and more to do with making money. The Gallagher brothers have both been through costly divorces. Perhaps they have seen the appetite for megatours as demonstrated by Taylor Swift’s Era’s extravaganza.  

A few days later there is controversy brewing around dynamic pricing which is adding to the rumours of extortionate profiteering. Presale tickets initially range from £73 to £205, with standing tickets priced around £150. Then resale prices skyrocket, with some tickets listed for as much as £6,000—approximately 40 times the original price. It remains uncertain how much of these profits Oasis directly receives. 
 
And then there is the timing. Next year the ownership of the Oasis back-catalogue reverts back to Noel. Only a few months ago Queen sold the rights to their back-catalogue to Sony Music in a record-breaking $1.27 billion, surpassing previous deals such as Bruce Springsteen's sale for $500 million. A sell-out tour will go a long way to upping the value of the Oasis catalogue.  

Whatever the motivations, whoever is profiting, and however genuine the reconciliation, the reforming of Oasis, in my eyes, is a great moment for our country.  I’ll never forget the woman who spontaneously sang “Don’t Look Back in Anger” after the minute’s silence to remember the 22 Ariana Grande fans killed at the Manchester Arena terrorist attack in 2017. While Noel and Liam were still feuding, their song brought the country together in a pledge of hope. While terrible things are going on around us in our world, we need all the togetherness and hope we can get.  

Review
Culture
Film & TV
Masculinity
4 min read

Adolescence reflects our darkest corners, here's how we can respond

Each one-take episode is an exercise in empathy.

Lauren writes on faith, community, and anything else that compels her to open the Notes app. 

  A father walks with his son away from the camera, his hand on his son's shoulder.
Netflix.

‘Is it really that bad out there for our children?’ 

This was the text my mum sent our family group chat following episode four of Adolescence, the astonishing new drama from Netflix. Anyone familiar with previous work from Stephen Graham will know to expect grit and challenge, but Adolescence is different. 

Adolescence paints a stark picture of a world gone wrong. We observe this in the Miller family who, within a few minutes, stand and watch as their lives are upended when their teenage son and brother is arrested on suspicion of murder. 

Technically, it is remarkable. The script is stunning. The cast are incredible. The direction is impeccable. The camera perceives the action in one continuous take, and the viewer receives this without a single edit. We watch each second of the hour-long episodes with precise focus, curiosity, tension and compassion. As the camera is moved, so are we. We become immersed in the spiralling realities of the detective, of the disbelieving father, of the psychologist, of the scrawny boy who wets his bed when armed police raid his bedroom. We pass person to person and take on their emotional load, even for a moment. These are not simply tug-on-the-heartstrings moments, watching Adolescence is an exercise in empathy. 

These one-take episodes flawlessly capture extended scenes of flawed humanity. Minute by minute, we learn more about Jamie Miller, played by Owen Cooper, the thirteen-year-old boy at the centre of it all. His parents are loving. He gets on with his sister. He is polite to the nurse at the police station. Jamie appears like a typical young boy. A worn teddy-bear sits atop his star-adorned bedding that matches the wallpaper. His friends are impish, awkward and they are the usual levels of unkempt. He seems just like any other kid. 

These small acts bring light to dark places, and demonstrate how the viewer might live right in a world where much feels wrong. 

As the plot unfolds, we see how darkness, and Jamie’s anger, lurks behind a digital life. Mostly hidden in emoji codes and Instagram comments, it is only in episode three when a stream of explicit misogyny pours from Jamie’s mouth. It emerges that his development has been intercepted by exposure to toxic masculinity, incel ideology and the incessant rage of ‘the manosphere.’ We witness the unravelling of lives that are disconnected despite sharing the same roof. Just as the uninitiated are confused by terms like ‘red-pilled’, Jamie’s parents are stunned at why their child would commit such a crime. 

Adolescence is a sobering watch because it holds up a mirror to a bleak picture of society. In the same week that Netflix released the series, a teenage boy was sentenced to life imprisonment for the fatal stabbing of a fifteen-year-old girl in the London borough that neighbours my secondary school. 

But it is also a rallying cry for social response. The ultimate aim isn’t for the audience to be depressed into stagnancy, but to consider afresh the responsibility we have for each other, particularly for the generations coming behind us, and to take action in our communities. When my mum asked about the reality for ‘our children’, she was supporting this concept of collective responsibility and care for the next generation. 

As Adolescence reflects our darkest corners, so does it present those among us who are trying to connect and show up in love for struggling young people. We see this in the detective who goes to the chip-shop with his son in an attempt to build their relationship, and also in the psychologist who carries around a container of mini-marshmallows for Jamie’s hot chocolate. These small acts bring light to dark places, and demonstrate how the viewer might live right in a world where much feels wrong. 

The glimpses of positive intergenerational connection in Adolescence should serve as a compelling reminder to churches, a remaining shared space where generations collide. We learn so much from each other that we simply cannot gain from siloed, disconnected living. At its best, the Church provides a space that allows people to break out of their usual circles and habits, to be loved and to love, to be challenged and corrected, to develop a connection to God and to his creation.  

To consider again the question, ‘Is it really that bad out there for our children?’ 

Quite possibly. But in the reflecting of light, however dim it may seem, we are presented with the possibility of something better. As generational barriers come down, we can move beyond empathy and into action. 

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