In 1996, when Oasis was making waves in the US with chart-topping songs like “Wonderwall” and “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” I was a junior in high school, listening to bands like NOFX, Rage Against the Machine, Operation Ivy, and Screeching Weasel, to name a few. My friends and I often spent hours listening to blink-182’s Cheshire Cat while driving up to the v-lots (view lots of Mt. Baldy), smoking a joint or blasting some Tribe Called Quest in my parents’ driveway, as my friends tried to ollie higher than the next.
We were Southern California kids through and through. Almost everyone skated, and in the winter, we’d go snowboarding. Our warmer days were spent down in San Clemente and San Onofre surfing (my girls and I just laid out).
Closer to my senior year, I started experimenting more. We’d be hitting up raves at warehouses in downtown LA and the Orange Show convention center in San Bernardino, as I began to get more immersed in house and jungle music. But Oasis? No, that was never part of my youth.
I can’t recall a time in the 90s or early 2000s when any of my friends ever mentioned Oasis or even listened to them. Not many of us listened to mainstream radio. We were obsessed with our collection of cassette tapes and CDs, and the only time you’d hear us listening to KROQ or 91X was if we forgot our CD case.
I was never an Oasis fan, but after attending Oasis’s Los Angeles reunion show at the Rose Bowl Stadium in Pasadena on Sunday, September 7, I understand what all the Oasis mania is about.
Oasis songs, especially their hits, always felt like pub rock. Their music never appealed to me, and that’s OK. Different strokes for different folks, especially when it comes to music. But that’s what’s so beautiful about music: it speaks to our emotions and often holds memories of pivotal moments in our lives. It’s the reason why we return to old songs to relive some of those memories connected to them.
My journey to Oasis now begins, and it was an epic. If you’ve been to the Rose Bowl Stadium, you understand that it is quite the journey. People who know, they know.
The Rose Bowl Stadium is the absolute worst concert venue when it comes to getting there, getting out, and finally making it home. It’s in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the Los Angeles area, and you can’t take an Uber to or from the stadium, nor can you park in the surrounding neighborhoods. To get to the stadium, as was the case with this Oasis show, you had to park about a mile and a half away, then take a shuttle to the Rose Bowl or walk there. And those shuttles ain’t no picnic on the way back. Fans wait an hour+ just to get on one. The other option was to pay $65-$75 to park on site.
I refuse to give into the corporate concert machine more than I already do, and since I live just a few miles from the Rose Bowl, my husband and I decided to ride our vintage BMW R90 and park in our secret lot (which only costs $21) and walk. But first, we enjoyed a delicious dinner at Sushi Roku in Old Town and then walked it off on our way to see Oasis at the Rose Bowl. If you enjoy walking and can handle an easy 1.5 miles, I highly recommend doing this for all shows at the Rose Bowl.
It was actually a lot of fun seeing these die-hard Oasis fans from all over the world, feeling their excitement and the sense of community as everyone basically walked with open containers. The trail of beer cans along Orange BLVD just before Rosemont was quite a sight—a mix of banana peels and Gatorade bottles, which made me think these were health-conscious Oasis fans already thinking about the sore muscles they’d have the next morning.
Once we got to the Rose Bowl grounds, we were in such a good mood. I love traveling the world, and our journey to Oasis felt just like that. We met people from Ireland and England, and heard folks speaking Spanish and French; it was truly a beautiful and inviting experience.
Cruising the Rose Bowl grounds, you could feel the positive energy. It was thick and exciting. There were pop-up bars, selling all sorts of beverages, especially the adult kind, and of course, Doyer dog vendors were serving up their delicious LA street food so fans could last the long haul. And there were tons of bootleg merch vendors selling a variety of Oasis merch.
Which, by the way, never in my life have I been to a concert where 50% of the people were dressed in concert T-shirts and hats of the band they were going to see. In my world, there’s always been a golden rule: you never wear a concert shirt of the band you’re going to see at their concert. The only exception is if the shirt is from a vintage tour. That was not the case here at Oasis at the Rose Bowl. Everyone was wearing their Oasis bucket hats, Oasis-branded T-shirts and Adidas jerseys. There was actually quite a fuss over the black Oasis Manchester jersey versus all the others. If you had the Oasis Man City Jersey, you were a cool kid, basically (more on that later). At times, it felt more like being at a football match than a concert.
Once we grabbed a couple of tall boys and got to our seats, everyone was all smiles. Once again, we were surrounded by foreign accents, and our seat neighbors were the loveliest couple from England, who were on their honeymoon. They shared their story that they were unable to get tickets in the UK because they were so expensive, and it was actually cheaper for them to fly here to experience Oasis for the first time.
The row ahead of us was a father and son from Texas. The son, probably in his 20s, was a bigger Oasis fan than his father. I suppose that’s the age when you start taking a deep dive into 30+ year discographies. When I was in my 20s, I got into 1960s/70s blues and punk with bands like The Stooges, the MC5, and the New York Dolls.
Behind us was a woman from England with her partner (see her photobomb above). She was such a joy singing every song, word for word, in her cute pink Oasis bucket hat. Her partner sat down most of the time, as did the other fellow across the way. You could tell there were die-hard Oasis fans here, along with the partners of those fans who came either to support their loved one or out of curiosity to see what the fuss was about. That’s where I land. I came to Oasis not as a fan, but primarily for my job. I own Grimy Goods, and while my talented staff of writers and photographers usually cover most shows, I do attend as well. Since none of them had any interest in covering Oasis, and I was curious, I decided to cover the concert.
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Funny enough, just a week before the show was supposed to happen, I posted an Instagram story asking if anyone wanted to cover for me at Grimy Goods. I was tired and coming off a hectic week, and I really had no desire to go to the Rose Bowl after what happened at the RÜFÜS DU SOL concert. Don’t even get me started on that … But since everyone who responded was eager to cover the show and all were major Oasis fans, I wasn’t sure how their reviews would be unique. For me, the only writer who could give a unique perspective wasn’t a fan or a hater, but someone who could deliver a story that hadn’t already been said throughout the Oasis Live ’25 World Tour.
Ahead of Oasis’s performance at the Rose Bowl, I familiarized myself with their catalog. Aside from the chart-topping hits, I really enjoyed “Cigarettes & Alcohol” and “Supersonic,” both written by Noel Gallagher from Oasis’s debut album, Definitely Maybe (1994). I also liked the punk vibes of “Fade Away” and “Headshrinker” from The Masterplan (1998). But it was the foot-stomping, headbanging blues rock energy of “Eyeball Tickler,” one of the B-sides to “Lyla” (2005), that truly ignited my alt-rock and punk-loving heart. The song was written by Oasis guitarist and songwriter Gem Archer. I was able to hear all those songs at the Rose Bowl except the last two.
As we sat in our seats before the concert started, a young man in a baby blue Adidas x Oasis jersey offered the 20-something Texan in front of us a floor wristband and his baby blue jersey in exchange for his black Adidas Oasis jersey, which had an exclusive “Manchester” print. The Texan (who was a firecracker, by the way) replied, “Fuck no. Get out of here.” When I asked him what the difference was, he replied, “the blue ones are for pussies!” His sweet father stepped in and politely apologized for his son’s language. The kid definitely had a fiery personality, but like with all men trying to act tough on the outside, they are actually quite soft on the inside. Who knew it would be this same “pussy” yelling dude that would bring me to tears after a genuine act of emotion.
While rocking out to Oasis with my new group of friends from around the world, I enjoyed the fact that I was one of the few humans at the Rose Bowl Stadium who didn’t know the words. I just looked around, smiled, and soaked in that beautiful crowd energy. I even participated in the “Oasis Poznan,” where my seatmates and I linked arms and turned around with our backs facing the stage during “Cigarettes & Alcohol.” I had no idea what the hell was going on, but it was a lot of silly fun. Apparently, this concert ritual comes from football (soccer) and is associated with Manchester City, the club the Gallagher brothers rep. Now, I understand the intense rivalry between the Oasis jerseys.
About nine songs in, I finally had to head to the bathroom to release the strawberry-spiked Topo Chico I was sipping on. On my way, I saw a guy in an Iggy Pop shirt and another in a Motörhead tee, and I sighed with relief, thinking, “Ah, my people.” I wondered if they were here as fans who also happen to love punk and hard rock, or if they were reliving a moment from their youth, or supporting their Oasis-loving partner or friend.
About halfway through Oasis’s set, the concert energy, for me and a few others (maybe supportive partners), slowed down a bit. More people took a seat to take a break. Even the other twenty-something kid behind me on the opposite side finally ran out of steam and was no longer fist-pumping word for word.
Things began to pick up again around “Live Forever.” As the encore started with “Don’t Look Back In Anger,” the fiery Texas boy put his hand to his mouth and stood silent with his eyes closed. He opened his eyes, glistening with tears, and looked at his Father in awe. The Father put his arm around his son in a gentle side embrace. It was then that I started to cry like a baby. It’s that moment, that feeling, that pure emotion that music can evoke from us — when we are completely exposed and open to emotional release. The father and his son kept their arms around each other, and once the chorus hit, their hands went up, and they began singing along. The loving camaraderie continued through “Wonderwall” and “Champagne Supernova.” I took many photos and videos of the two because I was so moved by their moment. I hope to experience that same kind of love and connection with my daughter at a future concert when she’s an adult. It was beautiful.
As fireworks lit up the Rose Bowl in their own champagne supernova, it was time to deal with the notoriously bad departure process after a sold-out event at the Rose Bowl Stadium. This wasn’t my first rodeo, so we stayed seated, chatting with our new friends about our experience.
While I waited standing in front of my seat, a thick line formed to get out of the stadium. Above us, some drunk was yelling in a “British” accent to an unknown person up ahead, “Oye ya wanker! Get off your phone and fucking move.” The guy was so loud, rude, and obnoxious. It was like an LA driver honking at everyone in front of them stopped at a red light. I tried telling this annoying fellow that this is always how it is at the Rose Bowl, and he just needs to wait patiently for the crowd to clear. He drunkenly disagreed, and we had some words (I should have remembered to never argue with a fool). Then his genuine American accent emerged. I couldn’t help but laugh. I then said, “Dude, you’re American? You dork.”
It reminded me of the years I spent traveling around the world after college, and how almost every traveler I met viewed American travelers as rude and annoying. Well, this guy lived up to that stereotype. As I turned my back on the rude dude, shamelessly pretending to be a Brit, the crowd slowly started moving down the packed stairs, and he had to move along with the shame of being called out for his tomfoolery. By this point, my husband was exchanging contact info with the Texas dad and his son so we could send them my videos and photos of the two enjoying Oasis together. I joined them to recount the night.
The Oasis reunion show at the Rose Bowl Stadium in Pasadena was definitely a concert experience I will never forget. From the journey to the stadium that felt like a pre-party to the warm (and drunken) energy of fans that resembled a soccer match, it was all about nostalgia and community. Sure, some people needed a lesson in concert etiquette; however, the camaraderie at this reunion show was unmatched. I’ve never seen a concert crowd in Los Angeles this engaged. And maybe it was because many of them were not from Los Angeles. I don’t know, but I do know that I will carry the memories from this night and see Oasis and their fans in a whole new light.
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