Words and Photography by Silvano Marino Zeiter
They said it would never happen. And to be honest, I didn’t fully believe it either —not until both Gallaghers stood on that stage together in front of 75,000 roaring maniacs in Cardiff. What followed wasn’t just a concert—it was a fucking resurrection. Here’s what it looked, sounded, and felt like from the beer-drenched pub to the final chord of Champagne Supernova.
The pre-gig euphoria in the city was intense. Already by early afternoon, every pub in Cardiff was rammed with Oasis fans singing and necking pints together. It felt like the build-up to a home match for your favourite football team—only the team had already won the cup. The line to the merch stand behind the stadium was long, but that didn’t stop us from getting the goods. The fact that the venue is smack in the middle of the city made things incredibly convenient —you could finish your last beer and be at your seat inside the stadium two minutes later.
Was I a bit gutted I didn’t get standing tickets? Maybe. Was I stoked that I could go for a piss, grab a beer, and be back in my seat within 30 seconds? Definitely. Only regret: not bringing binoculars. Thankfully, the screens were massive.
The first support act didn’t really do it for me, so I wandered off into the catacombs of the stadium, photographing people that caught my eye. One of them was a Japanese guy who’d flown in from Tokyo with his girlfriend just for this show. Didn’t catch his name, but if you’re reading this: arigato, mate. Hit me up—I’ll send you the shot. Looking through the photos later, the whole thing could’ve passed as an Adidas campaign—nearly everyone was rocking the three stripes in some form or another.
Armed with another beer and a fresh roll of black-and-white film, I made my way back to my seat just as Richard Ashcroft took the stage. Let me take a moment to honour that man’s and his band’s support performance. Fucking legend. By the time he was done, I honestly wasn’t sure Oasis could even level the musical, vocal and emotional quality of the former „The Verve“ frontman’s show. Funny side note: apparently some 20-somethings were spotted Shazam- ing Bittersweet Symphony during his set (yes, that’s who you lost your ticket to, mate). It’s just the UK’s unofficial national anthem and one of the greatest tunes ever written.
One of the moments I was most looking forward to came just before the band even hit the stage: the greatest pre-gig walk-on track of all time, the gracefully titled Fuckin’ in the Bushes. I’d experienced it once before at a Liam gig in Milan, and let me tell you—it’s like coming up hard on ecstasy. Absolutely mental. D’you know what I mean? You feel like Mickey O’Neil (Brad Pitt) in Snatch, already knowing you’re about to knock the shit out the big guy with a single punch.
And then, suddenly—both Gallaghers were on stage. Together. Somehow, a little part of me had still doubted it would actually happen, right up to the last second. Liam said something half-liner into the mic. Noel grabbed his guitar and whipped some massive feedback out of it, and then Hello exploded through the venue. A perfect opener. That was followed by Acquiesce, which made sense with both brothers trading individual vocals. Then came what I personally consider the ultimate opener: Morning Glory, with its almost alarming intro riff and tom drums. I won’t bore you with the full setlist, but here are some highlights:
In Some Might Say, Liam’s voice was arguably at its best since the mid-’90s. The chorus is brutal to sing—they hardly ever played it live even back then. At one point, he had nearly 80,000 people turning around and doing the Poznań before absolutely losing their shit, arms around each other, for Cigarettes & Alcohol.
Supersonic was wild. Then Liam stepped off, and Noel mellowed things out with Talk Tonight and Half the World Away half way through the gig.
With Liam back on, one of my personal favourites, Cast No Shadow, was dedicated to Richard Ashcroft, while Slide Away went out to the lovebirds. Somewhere in between, I remember catching myself just breathing in for a moment — not shouting, not singing, just standing there, looking around. A full stadium, swaying, arms on shoulders, pint cups in the air. That feeling of joy and unity. A sea of people connected by the same sound. It was just fucking beautiful. With Live Forever and a roaring Rock ’n’ Roll Star, the show reached its first climax before a four-song encore. Noel went on dedicating The Masterplan to the 20-year-olds that have never experienced this before. Of course Don’t Look Back in Anger made its inevitable appearance, and even though it’s not my favourite, I can only imagine what it must feel like to hear a whole stadium sing a song you wrote when you were barely out of your teens. Wonderwall was a given, and finally, they wrapped the whole thing with what might be the most epic track in their repertoire: Champagne Supernova.
And just like that, it was over. When the amps went quiet we all went our ways changed, hearts fuller, memories burnt into our bones. Strangers became friends, friends became family. Cardiff became Oasis and Oasis became us. Some nights, some gigs never end, they echo forever.
I’ve been to a few Liam shows, and I’ve seen Noel with the High Flying Birds but as I heard someone once say: There’s not a single person at either of those gigs who wouldn’t rather be at an Oasis gig. And yeah, that includes me— though all of those shows were more than solid too.
To be honest, I expected this whole thing to feel like some kind of Era’s tour for rock-dads, but I was surprised at how wide the age range in the crowd was. Oasis clearly speak to multiple generations. But how? None of those lads in the band were ever technically the best in the world at anything—but they’ve always had it. That nonchalant, authentic and unapologetic attitude that also reflected in their simple but genius songwriting. Songs that make people feel something indefinable, or maybe just simply themselves. It’s the chemistry between band and audience. A kind of gravity. The love, the energy, the passion, the rage, the joy—it’s real. And it’s not about laser shows, outfit changes or fucking glowing wristbands. It’s about raw, honest rock ’n’ roll.
So yeah—selling my car to get a ticket? Absolutely worth it.
Probably the best gig of my life. Maybe even a dream come true.
As you were.
