Oasis reunion: How a gay man found unity in a ‘crowd of straight blokes’ at Wembley

Some might say, it doesn’t matter what sexuality you are, music is for everybody to enjoy. Why would it be an issue for a gay guy to go to an Oasis concert? But, let’s be real: being in a massive crowd of drunk outwardly presenting straight blokes can trigger a fight or flight mode in even the most self-assured homosexual. Sure, there’s a large female contingent of fans here too, but the fact is that it’s the lairy straight lads that put a gay off joining, whether it’s the Oasis reunion at Wembley Stadium or the FA Cup Final.

Yet, here I am, with my fiancé and his recently bleached blonde hair riding a wave of ecstasy as 90,000 people sing (read: belt) out ‘Cigarettes & Alcohol’.

“I excuse myself past a big, burly shaven-headed bloke”

Getting to Wembley from home in south London is pretty seamless. We plan our arrival to arrive at the stadium with enough time to grab a kebab, stock up on a couple rounds of double gin and tonics each, then grab a piss before showtime.

As I enter the men’s toilets, I excuse myself past a big, burly shaven-headed bloke in a red T-shirt emblazoned with the Union Flag who’s waiting outside a cubicle, his arm across the door. After I’ve done my business a couple cubicles down and washed my hands, I catch him from the corner of my eye. He’s stumbling about, wasted to fuck. That’s either a mighty pill he’s coming up on, or he’s done the whole baggy of ket in on go. I smile, summon my Croydon upbringing to the fore and give him a guttural “Alright, mate,” as I walk past. He stares blankly through me, like he’s totally oblivious to me in his current state.

We enter the stadium and look across an ocean of exultant faces. We’re seated on stage left with the perfect vantage to look out across the stadium as the cheers and whoops and wails carry across Wembley. The Gallaghers have yet to even set foot on stage, but we spot several dishevelled fans being hoisted out of the intensely packed crowd and over barriers by security and escorted off the stadium floor by friends. Did your mother not tell you to pace yourself, dear? Sure, this is bedlam, but not the intimidating football match kind. The crowd ripples with an infectious elation.

“It’s somewhat adorable how Liam is compelled to introduce every song”

Then, as the lights change and the immense screens signal the start of the show, a roar rumbles across Wembley as 90,000 people rise to their feet when Oasis arrive on stage. From opening track ‘Hello’ through to ‘Morning Glory’ and ‘Some Might Say’ the energy in the stadium is beyond tangible; it seeps into my bones.

Through a playlist that sparks past memories soundtracked by ‘Roll With It’, ‘Little By Little’ and ‘Live Forever’ the lads are more than form, they inhabit every song as if it were new. It’s somewhat adorable how Liam is compelled to introduce every song that everybody already knows every opening bar, refrain and hook to.

I look around myself, then at the rows behind us and up to the seats in the upper tier to see an addictive glee plastered across every face. People turn around and catch eyes with strangers, exchanging the widest smiles.

“It’s a feeling of coming together that in the past decade we have lost in the UK”

Just before the finale, I dash out to the toilet for a quick wazz to make sure I’m back in time for the final three bangers of the night. The wasted guy from when I arrived is still there, exactly where I last saw him, stumbling around by the cubicle door, twatted off his face. Fuck knows how much he paid for that ticket. Money well spent, mate. Still, a good time was had, I’m sure.

I got drenched in someone’s else’s beer, watched as the teenage girls in front of me (who must have been barely a few years old when the band split) threw themselves around in enviable abandonment and took selfies, as we all sang along to songs I only knew half the words to.

This is more than just a gig. It’s a feeling of coming together that in the past decade we have lost in the UK. Growing up as a teen in the 90s, Oasis were ever-present. It was a different time. The reaction against this capitalist, oppressive era was rave culture, the anarchy of Britpop, and even the Spice Girls – we were exporting and defining a new era of proudly British music that would define the decades that followed.

In Oasis, we had two working class lads from Manchester who would go on to produce some of the most definitive British songs of modern times, and deliver a cultural impact that is as part of British identity as fish and chips and talking about the weather.

“A reminder of the joy and unity we find in music”

When the band formed in the early 90s, for the gays it was a time of post-Aids fear, Section 28 and an unequal age of consent. Same-sex marriage was not even a consideration let alone a possibility. Change would eventually come, even if those gains now feel under threat.

In 2025, perhaps the buzz of the Oasis reunion represents a reminder of the joy and unity we find in music. This series of gigs is not just two brothers coming together after 15 years apart to sing some popular songs. To the millions of people that will see their show, perhaps it represents something else that we need right now – the ability to overcome obstacles, indifference and, indeed, a difference of opinion.

Tonight, the Gallaghers brought a blazing northern light to the south – and thank heavens they did. “This one’s called ‘Champagne Supernova’. Get home safe,” says Liam as the stadium throws its hands in the air and we all sing along.

Transcending nostalgia

The Oasis comeback is more than just a reunion tour. It transcends nostalgia. The anticipation is comparable to a handful of national British events this century: the London 2012 Olympics; the Queens’s Golden Jubilee; and perhaps even William and Kate’s wedding.

You don’t need to have been a sport fanatic or royalist to be swept up in the thrill of it all, from the street parties to the pomp and parades. While those events did ignite a sense of British pride in me, I’m somewhat indifferent to both sportsing and royaling. Yet, still, I tagged along for the ride.  

Suddenly, in 2016, the proverbial shit hit the British fan. After the freefall of Brexit and its divisive referendum, Boris Johnson, Covid, the subsequent messy run of Tory prime ministers, glum Labour stepping in, and now Reform looming, there hasn’t been much in the way of unifying joy to be had on a national level in ol’ Blighty. Then, the inevitable – and unexpected – happened. Liam and Noel Gallagher announced that after 15 years of stubborn indifference, peace had been achieved, and Oasis would return.

In a time of a very dis-United Kingdom, Oasis seem to have proved to be the only people with the ability to pull this country together again. From the initial awkward holding of hands when the Gallagher brothers stepped on stage for that first gig in Cardiff in July, to them hugging at the finale of their UK shows at Wembley this weekend, the lads came together in unity for a good time and took 90,000 of us along with them.

Maybe Liam and Noel will make it last this time. Or maybe they won’t. At least they’ve shown us what is possible when we give it a go.