Oasis in Edinburgh: two hours of pure glory under the Scottish wind

One can only agree with Irvine Welsh, the author of Trainspotting, who was present at the Scottish premiere of the Oasis tour on Friday 8 August: 'This is the best time to see Oasis. Now. I saw them many times in the 90s, but they were never as amazing as they are now. Thanks to Liam and Noel for that dose of awesomeness that makes you feel alive,' wrote the Scottish writer - one of the voices that most chronicled the mocking, blustery energy of the 90s - on his Instagram profile. Among the thousands of reviews, reports and posts that have accompanied the return of the English band in recent weeks - from the emotional debut in Cardiff to the party in Manchester to the oceanic crowd that rocked Wembley - his is perhaps the most effective summary. I too, like Welsh, saw them several times in the 1990s. And like him, I sincerely felt overwhelmed by the immensity of their performance: at the Scottish Gas Murrayfield in Edinburgh, the rugby national team's stadium, there was not only a beautiful concert in the sign of nostalgia: the overwhelming power of the sound, the full voices of Liam and Noel, the harmony between the brothers and the musicians, the sober majesty of the stage and the giant screens: on Friday night, under the windswept skies of the Scottish capital, there was not a single flaw. Everything was great, as it should have been, perhaps well beyond the expectations of the 70,000 fans who managed to buy a ticket.

The evening began with a performance by Cast and Britpop was served right away. Then came Richard Ashcroft, another symbol of that musical current that marked the last decade of the last century. After singing Bitter sweet symphony, he said goodbye to everyone, to make way for the 'greatest rock'n'roll band in the world': not that anyone present, in the stands and in the parterre, had any doubts about this. Then the waiting began. The beer, as it was meant to be, was flowing like wildfire: if in London 250,000 pints were sold in a single evening, a historical record for Wembley as the Times wrote, I don't think many fewer were tapped in Edinburgh. The background music, meanwhile, was growing: just before the arrival of Oasis, Tam Tam, an Italian cover of Come Together by the Beatles, performed in the 1960s by a forgotten band from Romano Canavese: the Rogers, was blaring. I have no idea how many Italians were in the stadium and, of those, how many actually knew it. I also have no idea why this choice was made, bizarre to say the least: in any case, thanks to Liam and Noel for this tribute to the last in line of the music business. Then came Born Slippy, the soundtrack to Danny Boyle's Trainspotting (set in Edinburgh) and cult piece for a whole generation: everyone knew it was coming. Soon after, two dark cars appeared to the left of the stage and the Gallagher brothers got out, smiling and waving: hey, we're here to party, let's get started.

And party it was. For two very long, glorious hours, during which Oasis performed, as on the other dates, their best of, in every sense: Hello, Acquiesce, Morning glory, Some might say, Bring it on down, Cigarettes & alcohol, Fade away, Supersonic, Roll with it, Talk tonigh (sung by Noel and dedicated to all the ladies), Half the world away (this one dedicated to the real Royle Family, a tribute to a famous British sitcom about the life of a working class family in Manchester), Little by little, D'You know what I mean?, Stand by me, Cast no shadow, Slide away, Whatever, Live forever and Rock 'n' roll star, during which 70,000 people jumped in unison. Finally, the encores: The Masterplan, Don't look back in anger, Wonderwall and Champagne supernova, followed by the fireworks display. In the stands were fifty-year-olds crying their eyes out, kids singing at the top of their lungs and happy ten-year-olds hugging their parents. Liam, for his part, went 'Liam' (voice and hat aside), polemicizing with the Edinburgh City Council, who were called 'a bunch of snakes' for a report in which fans were described as a drunken, noisy bunch. He said he was 'still waiting for an apology', while claiming the huge financial return the band had brought to the city. And then yes, there was also a lady of a certain age in the audience, visibly impaired by alcohol, dancing with excessive enthusiasm in the stands. Security didn't take their eyes off her, but allowed her to go wild in her own way, because - what the heck! - it's the Oasis concert. When she tried to kiss the young uniformed steward, of Indian origin, the scene unintentionally became a symbol of what makes this band unique: the ability to speak to a diverse, imperfect, boisterous humanity, capable of unhinged gestures and unfiltered emotions, just like the Gallagher brothers, who for years sent each other to hell before making up and singing together again. Liam and Noel have always spoken to these people, and about these people: no glamorous veneer, no ambition to be cool at all costs, just stadium anthems and songs that say we all, deep down, want to 'live forever' and enjoy this short stay on planet Earth a little. In Edinburgh, for a couple of hours, everyone simply believed it.