Oasis Supersonic review: Documenting the rise and rise of the last great rock-and-roll band

Some things change your DNA. I was introduced to the music of Oasis half a decade after they’d achieved worldwide popularity with (What’s The Story) Morning Glory, their second studio album, that came out in 1995. In the hazy, lazy summer of 2000, my now-best-friend-of-16-years invited me into an Oasis-fuelled world filled with incendiary guitar riffs, the Lennon-ish quality of Liam’s voice, the something-familiar-but-still-so-new feeling that accompanies their songs, and the utter genius of Noel’s songwriting. For two young girls in turn-of-the-century Mumbai, the world of Oasis (their music, their upbringing in working class Manchester, the love wrapped in council-estate poverty that their songs were about) should have been far removed from our academic, middle-class lives. But there was something in that sound, their story, that somehow resonated more than any other music had before; as we went about our teenage lives discussing books, music, philosophy and poetry, and walked hand in hand down the streets of Mumbai, a strong echo of Oasis’ music on our minds and the lyrics to their songs on our lips, we knew the world was out in front of us to conquer and vindicate and admire all at once. “Maybe you’re the same as me, we see things they’ll never see; You and I, we’re gonna live forever” — really, who needs school when you can learn such life lessons from a rock band and their songs? That’s what Oasis meant to us, what they meant to millions of music lovers the world over. That’s where Oasis Supersonic (the recently-released documentary about the band and its ’90s madness) begins: with a quarter of a million Oasis fans attending their era-defining two days of concerts in Knebworth (an estimated 2.5 million entered the lottery to buy tickets to the concerts, that’s over 4 percent of England’s entire population). And it’s magical!

A Mat Whitecross-directed, Asif Kapadia (Amy, Senna) executive produced documentary, Oasis Supersonic is a treasure trove of MTV interviews, VHS recordings, live show footage, tons of tabloid clippings, pub and basement recordings of early versions of would-be classic songs, and a whole lot of home footage of the band (and especially the brothers Gallagher). Whoever thought of filming their “laddish” antics and recording their immense quote-worthiness, either didn’t have much else to do or was amazingly clairvoyant in foreseeing their eventual megastardom. Vibrant, fun animations fill the gaps for the viewer; but there’s plenty of the meaty stuff, ie the history and relationship of the Gallagher brothers.

At the heart of any Oasis story (or interview, or headline, or nostalgia) are lead singer and tambourine rattler (and sometimes, tambourine thrower) Liam Gallagher, and his older brother (lead guitarist and songwriting mastermind) Noel. Born to a loving mother (Peggy) and an absent father, the brothers grew up with their mom and oldest brother Paul in the council estates of Burnage (a suburb of Manchester, with a population of 15000, that George Bernard Shaw once called the prettiest “village” in Manchester). Supersonic takes us all the way back to that time, when their mother hand-knitted their tiny sweaters (Noel recalling with fondness the fact that their mom would spend four years knitting a jumper for them, was at once sad and unbelievably sweet; the brothers’ obvious love for their mother is one of the most heartwarming constants throughout the documentary) and tried to foster a loving relationship between them. Resentment towards their father (who abused their mother) and an acute awareness of their working class status as they grew up, meant that both brothers desperately wanted to leave their council estate lives as soon as possible. For Liam, the way out was to be in a rock and roll band (he admits that he was obsessed with being in a band: “Everything I wanted outta life was coming out of the speakers,” he says). For Noel, who’d always been a “bit of a loner, a bit of stoner” according to Liam (in Noel’s words, “I discovered weed and a guitar, why would I want anything else? Why would you want to go out for?”), even being a technician and roadie for a small-time band like Inspiral Carpets, and traveling with them to faraway lands watching them perform, was good enough. It was after he got back from one such tour when he learnt that Liam had formed a band: with fellow Manchester buddies Paul “Bonehead” Arthurs (guitar), Paul “Guigsy” McGuigan (bass guitar), and Tony McCarroll (drums, percussion). Liam wanted Noel to be in their band for his “contacts” in the music industry. Noel convinced them to have him as a full-time lead guitarist and songwriter, thereby becoming Oasis’ fifth (and most important) member. The rest is history. Supersonic does a really great job of capturing this history. The history of the brothers’ rivalry has been an overarching factor through Oasis’ timeline and ultimately was the reason for the band breaking up. While the documentary doesn’t dwell on the later years, their increasingly forgettable music, and eventual dissolution, it does capture the sense of inevitability the band (and everyone around them) felt as they hit the big time. “Fate” is a word that comes up very often during voiceovers: the fact that Oasis (and especially the Gallaghers) were destined for greatness, quickly became apparent to anyone who came in contact with them. The way they met Alan McGee and got signed onto Creation Records (he was dating the lead singer of a band that Oasis practiced in the garage with; McGee showed up for the bands’ first gig together and immediately knew Oasis were onto something), is a prime example. That they would go on to become the most popular music acts since The Beatles, was obvious to anyone who paid attention to their music, to their lyrics, to Liam’s charisma as a frontman, to Noel’s gravitas as the songwriter, and their overall story. And boy, such stories! [caption id=“attachment_3138314” align=“alignnone” width=“825”]  A still from the trailer of ‘Oasis Supersonic’[/caption] There’s the hilarious one about the dustup on a ferry to Amsterdam (they were headed there for a gig; there was alcohol and a casino on the ferry…enough said!) which resulted in their deportation and nabbed them the notorious spot as THE rebel rousers in ’90s Britain. Liam jokes about it (“A fight broke out and it was all a bit Benny Hill_”); Noel thinks Liam enjoyed the spectacle it created. Or the crazy one about their crystal meth fueled bender at Whisky A Go Go, west Hollywood’s venerable nightclub, where they were set to perform on their maiden US tour. After two sleepless nights with everyone being high on meth, the band had mismatched setlists and the audacity to show up unwilling and unable to perform at their best. Again, the narrative was different: for Liam, it was an amusing incident with “Ninja speed” (he thought the crystal meth was coke). Noel, on the other hand, was frustrated with his bandmates’ unprofessional antics, and left them midway through the tour. This was when he hooked up with Melissa Lim (unnamed in the documentary, Lim is said to be Noel’s inspiration behind Talk Tonight). Knowing he was pivotal to the band’s ongoing and future success, their US tour manager Maggie Mouzakitis tried desperately to track him down and bring him back. But the first seeds of dissent and dissatisfaction were already sown. Along with the brothers’ relationship with each other, Supersonic also tracks their bonds (or lack of) with other band members: Bonehead and Guigsy are always referred to fondly (there’s plenty of present-day voiceover in the documentary, from Bonehead), but McCarroll bore the brunt of most of their wrath, especially just before Morning Glory released. Both the Gallaghers clearly didn’t think he was good enough, and Noel’s decision to oust McCarroll can be summed up in his own words: “Yeah, I’d already made up my mind. Especially with ‘ Champagne Supernova’ and ‘ Wonderwall’ coming up. I knew he wasn’t going to be able to play those songs.” This quality of knowing, this self-awareness (with both Noel and Liam, about each other, the band, their history and legacy) shines brilliantly throughout Supersonic. It comes through when Noel, in present-day voiceover, talks about how in today’s digital age and reality/competition shows, a band from the council estates becoming the biggest musical phenomenon, is impossible. Hua Hsu, in his review for Supersonic in The New Yorker, writes about just how aware the Gallaghers were of their place in music history, from the very beginning. Or of their relationship with and respect towards their fans: he writes, “They had discovered that the secret to superstardom is embodying a paradox: they were normal guys, just like their fans, living a dream on behalf of the masses. It could have been anyone. Yet they would never miss a chance to remind you that what was happening could never be repeated.” And it’s true, working class folks no longer aspire to the same things that Oasis did: to be rock stars, to pay homage to The Beatles through their music, to be normal and yet aspirational. In 2016, kids want to mix music to be DJs or enter a reality competition to be the next Kanye West or Jay Z and the biggest hip hop star; even becoming a YouTube or Instagram star with millions of subscribers/followers and a hefty book advance, is more aspirational. That’s why it’s difficult to explain to someone under 25, the insanity and madness of Oasis. Twenty years after Knebworth, I know it. My still-best-friend-of-16-years knows it. Anyone who has ever listened to Oasis and felt the swagger come back into their step, knows it. Noel knows it too: he talks about Knebworth like it was one, final mass gathering before everything went digital. The band knows it: they all talk about how they should’ve quit after Knebworth, because they were never again going to attain those heady heights. Ultimately, the music remains. Through it all, through the drugs, alcohol, and “Shitlife” acceptance speeches; through their not-mentioned-in-Supersonic-but-epic-distaste for most of their peers and their Britpop rivalry with Blur; through their working class brashness and impossibly cool round-sunglasses-and-parka looks; through their hilarious banter and extreme egotism; through it all, their “lyrics written at three in the morning” are sung back to them by countless fans who know each lyric, each guitar riff by heart. Supersonic brings this madness to life: it shows us the talent that was always there, evident in each frame of the documentary. It justifies the applause and the manic desperation of the 2.5 million who wanted to see them live at Knebworth, and it perfectly captures the hopes and aspirations of an entire generation of kids who wanted to be rock stars, to live the Oasis dream. Most importantly, it makes you want to play ‘Definitely Maybe’ or ‘(What’s the Story) Morning Glory’,_ close your eyes and get “caught beneath the landslide in the champagne supernova in the sky.” In 2016, we might do a YouTube Oasis binge session; doesn’t matter. Oasis and their music will live forever, as long as “the world’s still spinning round.”