My Wonderwall

One cold morning in early 1996 I woke up before sunrise on a weekday and headed downstairs. My grandma was sleeping on the fold-out couch in the den, where our sole TV resided. I gently opened the door, tip-toed in, and sat at the foot of the couch. I turned on the TV, keeping the volume at a barely audible level so as to not wake my slumbering matriarch (though how she stayed sleeping is beyond me), and flipped through the channels until I came across my desired destination. A music video was playing. The rumors Ian McPherson had told me the day before in class were true, there was an MTV, a station devoted to music (at that time anyway). I was sort of fascinated, but the first video was very strange and unsettling, featuring someone being crucified in some type of warehouse, surrounded by candles and a band playing a song. I think I watched one or two more, but I didn't care much for the songs, and I was determined to keep watching until I saw/heard one I liked. Then, as the next video began, I read the little credits featured in the corner. Oasis/Champagne Supernova/(What's the Story) Morning Glory. "I like the sound of that," I thought. "Maybe this is the one." The camera began spinning above a man lying on a bed, intermixed with spiral light patterns, as the guitar picked up. I was riveted for the next seven minutes, check that, the next 13 years.

Yes, I fell in love with that song and that band right then. Both Champagne Supernova and Oasis themselves remain, respectively, my favorite song and band to this day. Last week nearly thirteen long years of waiting culminated with me attending my first Oasis concert. Thirteen years. That's a long time. Given that I can't remember the first three years of my life, that means (does quick calculation) over 76% of my conscious life was spent looking forward to that event.

It was always my dream to go to an Oasis concert. I remember reading in the newspaper in sixth or seventh grade that they were going to be in Minneapolis and urging my dad to get tickets. He had little interest in going though and two days later another blurb ran saying it was already sold out. Junior Year of high school they came back to the US once again but the closest they came was Detroit, and me being that cool sixteen year old still without his license meant my chances of attending dropped from slim to none. I read early this past summer that they were doing a North American tour, but the closest date was set in Winnipeg, the day school started. So, in early October when they announced the Twin Cities date, I almost couldn't believe it was actually happening. Price was really not an object. I knew I was going as soon as I read the schedule.

So, did the concert live up to these almost insurmountable life fulfilling expectations? Well, no, but I'm pretty sure anything short of me standing in the front row and being called up on stage wouldn't have done it. There were a couple instants, a few momentary flashes, when everything came into perspective and I began to comprehend just how long I had been waiting for this moment. But for a while I found my self trying so hard to put it in perspective that I realized I had almost stopped paying attention, so I just decided to sit back in soak it all in. When the Gallagher brothers came on stage it was very surreal. It was so hard for me to understand that they were real people. For so long my relationship with them had been as media depictions, caricatures, of Rock and Roll bad boys, voices coming out of my computer, or a picture on the wall of my room, staring at my back as I type this. I think the instant they walked on stage the prophecy became unfulfillable, because they were no longer these immortal objects I had placed on pedestals; they were humans, capable of doing wrong. That's still so strange to me. I was in the same room as Oasis, I could have walked up there and talked with them, and they would have talked back. They are real people. The same ones in that poster on the wall.

Don't get me wrong though, the concert was awesome. It's just that they weren't the flawless demi-gods of my imagination, they had cracks. Liam's voice really is rougher live and he does pull away from the mic too early, cutting off some notes. They really were true to a lot of the common stories circulated about them too, which was also weird, that I knew the personalities of these guys I'd never met before. I loved how Liam swaggered around the stage, carrying a completely decorative accessory of a tambourine. I loved how Noel really did seem to be the more mature of the two, more concerned with putting on a good show, and yet he still had a sly bit of humor, mocking our cold weather and telling us calmly to "feel free to go f---ing nuts." And I definitely loved how I couldn't understand half the words they were saying through their thick accents, bringing up memories of a VH1 interview with them that required subtitles. I even loved their little Britishisms, like when Liam announced, "This one is from our newest Re-cowrd."

When they left the stage after about an hour, I was happy, but stilll a little disappointed, it would have been enough, but I was hoping for a little more. The hadn't even played "Champagne Supernova." I guess me being the ignorant concert goer, I wasn't sure what protocol was, I didn't know for sure if they were going to come back for an encore. But they did, and it was the best part of the show. Noel sentimentally singing lead on "Don't Look Back in Anger" was my highlight of the evening. And they did play "Supernova" next, completing my night. I was stomping my foot and belting out the lyrics. I left the Target Center glowing in the energy and beauty of the show.

As I listen to one of their CD's right now I'm coming to realize something else. While they may be human, their music is not, it's something better. Listening to this album is almost, truly, a divine experience.