60 Songs That Explain the '90s - Oasis—“Wonderwall”

Episode Date: September 8, 2021

Rob explores Britpop icon Oasis’s enduring megahit “Wonderwall” by discussing the Gallagher brothers’ notoriously contentious relationship and the band’s place in the lineage of British rock. This episode was originally produced as a Music and Talk show available exclusively on Spotify. Find the full song on Spotify or wherever you get your music. Host: Rob Harvilla Guest: Steven Hyden Producers: Isaac Lee and Justin Sayles Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Okay, if you are my mother, hi, mom, thank you for listening. I need you to stop listening right now, mom, please. It's going to get mad uncouth in here. Thank you for your support. I love you. I'll call you soon. Your grandkids are fine. Stop listening.

Please turn this off. Just you, but please, it's for your own good. And also for mine. Thanks, Mom. Love you. Goodbye. Okay. Let's take one second to make sure she's...

Okay, for everyone else, I would now like to read you the Liam Gallagher quote that precedes Rolling Stone's cover story on the English rock band Oasis, published in May of 1996, the epigraph, I suppose, to this article. This is a direct quote from Oasis singer Liam Gallagher. The parenthetical is provided by Rolling Stone.

It's not me. It's them. I support this editorial decision. Very helpful, this parenthetical. Okay, here we go. Quote, women have had me over. It's happened twice in the last month.

After I've bopped them. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, okay, okay, all right, okay. Women have had me over. It's happened twice in the last month. After I've bopped them, they've gone and sold it to the papers and made money out of it, Fair play. But I've just come in their gob.

Parentheses, mouth, close parentheses, and gone off. So therefore, I've had them over. Tide one all, baby. End quote. Liam Gallagher, Oasis, 1996, cover story, Rolling Stone, parentheses, mouth, close parentheses. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

Today is going to be the day that they're going to throw it back to you. In this corner, wearing various parkas, pullovers, anorex, peacoats, etc. Majestic sensible outerwear, dressed for a torrential downpour even when indoors. Dressed as though a man's city match might break out at any time, weighing in at 11 stone, the guy with a John Lennon, glasses, the guy with a nose, the guy with a thousand yards near, the singer, not frontman, singer.

In his humbler moments, he will concede that his brother, Noel, who writes all the songs, and makes all the decisions, and even sings a few of the songs he wrote, is arguably the true frontman of Oasis. But then again, this is not a guy burdened by humility. It's Liam Gallagher, singer, Oasis.

And in this corner, vowels. By now, you should have somehow realized what you gotta do. The vowels are getting knocked the fuck out. The vowels will submit. The vowels are destined for relegation and also for international glory. Majestic, elongated, luxuriantly contemptuous vowels. Those long A's, those long E's, those long as, I'm not doing the vowels.

I'm not doing an English accent. I know my limits. Leave it to the experts. Leave it to Liam. Each Liam vowel gets its own little bespoke parka and thousand yards sneer and pair of brass knuckles. Even on the ballads, even on the ballad. Each Liam vowel ignites its own miniature drunken brawl.

I was trying to find out how much Liam Gallagher actually weighed in the mid-90s? I don't really know that. Obviously, how would I know that? Eleven stone. I don't even know if I did the pounds to stone conversion, right? But I found instead a quote from Noel, Noel Gallagher, Liam's bandmate, an older brother, five years older. Oasis broke up in Paris in 2009, Liam and Noel have been estranged pretty much ever since. They insult one another constantly in the media and on the internet. I find Liam and Noel's insults to be more vibrant, to be more musical, to be of greater lasting

sociocultural value than most other band's songs. So yeah, I found a podcast interview from 2020 in which Noel makes fun of how much weight Liam gained during COVID-19 self-quarantine. Noel says,

he's not fucking isolating from the sweet trolley, is he? The sweet trolley! Holy shit, I love it. This whole episode is just me quoting Gallagher Brothers insult, and shortling. My name is Rob Barbilla. This is 60 songs that explain the 90s, and this week

it's Wonderwall by Oasis. The Pride in the Bain of Manchester, England. One point two billion plays on Spotify and counting for Wonderwall. A song written, of course, by Noel Gallagher. It is dedicated to his girlfriend and future wife and future ex-wife, Meg Matthews, though more recently Noel disputes this. And it appears on the Second Oasis album, What's the Story, Morning Glory, released in 1995. Parentheses, what's the story? Close parentheses. Morning Glory, question mark.

The parenthetical is provided by Oasis. Just baffling this parenthetical, what does that title even mean? Who cares? What's a wonder wall anyway? The words themselves don't got to make no sense when Noel writes them, and most often Liam sings them. And in 1994, the Gallagher brothers dropped on England. a bomb. With every Liam vowel, another screaming comes across the sky.

The first Oasis single is called Supersonic. Comes out in April 1994. Dig those vowels. Dig that riff. Dig the arrogant, radiant dirge of it all. The guitars on early Oasis songs, man, guitars plural, guitar's innumerable, just this rad, boorish, pervasive, malevolent g-gsh. sound engulfing everything. Supersonic is rock and roll personified. Supersonic is a legit, where were you the first time you heard this situation? Take, for example, Lars Ulrich.

Metallica drummer Lars Alrick. Lars is rhapsodized about Oasis, about Supersonic for 25 years. Lars worked the lights in an oasis show once. True story, Lars wrote a thing for the Guardian in 2014 about discovering his favorite band, Oasis. First, he talks about paging through an English magazine called Select and he says there was a story about a band from England with some unusual looking

fellows that I'd never heard of. I skimmed across the article and was quite amused by the fact that every other word was either fuck or the C word. He says, it reeked of attitude and not giving a fuck, which at the time, at the height of the shoe gazing, I can't handle being a rock star attitudes that were becoming mainstream was very refreshing. As for Supersonic itself, Lars heard it for the first time on San Francisco rock radio station Live 105. He says, the attitude, the aloofness, and the not giving a fuck vibes were pouring out of the speakers. Ask me how charming I find this image of Lars Ulrich, the Derek Jeter of drummers, tuning across the Bay Bridge in his sensible economy car. There's a Baskiati just bought in the backseat. He's sipping a Neapolitan

milkshake from In-N-Out Burger, secret menu, and head-banging along. to Supersonic. I love this. I'm immensely charmed by this. This is the essence of rock and roll to me. I'm a connoisseur of Lars Ulrich raving about songs. There's the famous story. It's famous to me that Lars tells about being on a plane and listening to a cassette of appetite for destruction by Guns and Roses for the first time. And Lars freaks out when he hears it's so easy. He says, It just blew my fucking head off. It was so fucking real and so fucking angry. Why do I remember stuff like this?

I guess I get excited when Lars gets excited. I give a fuck when Lars gives a fuck about people who don't give a fuck. Oasis, quite blatantly, you might say thirstily, wanted you to think they were the Beatles. And they were almost for a couple of years there. But to my mind, that's not their true lineage. Here's your true lineage. Metallica.

Guns and Roses. Oasis. For the record, Elsa was the sound engineer's dog. Elsa farted a lot, hence the Alka-Seltzer. So, Oasis in 1994, who are Liam and Noel's worthiest adversaries? I would like to heartily recommend to you the book Britpop. Britpop exclamation point, subtitled Cool Britannia and the spectacular demise of English rock. It came out in 2003, written by the British journalist John Harris. This is a rad book. This is a blunt. book. Spoiler alert, an Oasis album actually causes the spectacular demise of English rock. Liam and Noel giveth, and Liam and Noel snorteth away. So here, of course, primarily we're talking Oasis, Blur, Swade, Elastica, and Pulp. Books a little light on Pulp, actually. I listened to this as hardcore an hour ago. It's fantastic. But I already raved about Pulps, common people,

one of the best songs ever, Pulp Rules. I think we've established this. You know why this book is Rad. It's not just the Gallagher's. Every major band that drove the 90s Brit Pop Boom is absurdly quotable, just saying ridiculous shit, talking just the wildest shit imaginable at all times. Everybody. English rock stars make American rock stars sound like Bill Belichick. Shoe gaze is another guitar rock subgenre from the UK, of course, My Bloody Valentine, ride, slow dive, etc. But when Lars rails against the downer, I can't handle being a rock star vibes that bummed him out in the early 90s, I think he means grunge. I think he means pearl jam, sound garden, even Nirvana. All that self-loathing, it gets old. I'm so bored with the USA. You know what I like in a rock band, a regular loathing,

loathing of others, loathing of other bands, if not whole other countries. What exemplifies, what unifies Brit Pop for me is not the guitars, not mostly, the bros, the bros, the the broishness, not the wounded narcissism, not the accents. It's the aspiration. It's the arrogance. It's the audible, tangible will to conquer. Every Brit pop band sounds like they're trying to conquer Britain and then lead Britain to conquer the rest of the world. Call it Manifest Destiny, if you want. So Swade, right? The London Swade. First Swade album comes out in 1993. Self-titled, it's glammy, it's licentious, it's androgyneous, severe Bowie vibes, severe Bordinary. Delo vibes, severe heroin

vibes pretty soon. Swade are the Stone Temple pilots of England. That's not true. That's obnoxious. Nonetheless, elegant bachelors. The first Swade single is called The Drowners. The pronoun in this line got quite a bit of English tabloid

attention. That's Swade frontman Brett Anderson, who's an endearingly awkward provocateur. He once described himself as a bisexual man who's never had a homosexual experience. Interviews are hard. Dig the guitar, too, though.

One of the porniest guitar riffs of the Brit pop era, right at the dawn of the Brit pop era. That's Bernard Butler on guitar. Dig Bernard fast. He's not going to be in the band much longer. Anyway, Swade's getting to be a big wolf in England, and Brett Anderson starts talking wild shit about America. His first big NME interview, he says,

It pisses me off immensely that America has kidnapped British music, and I find the idea of British bands singing in American accents horrifying. He calls Bruce Springsteen a dullard. He says, let's face it, the Beatles were a huge one-nill. I'm not anti-American, but I've never been impressed by it. He says, that claustrophobic, stifled Englishness is conducive to great art. He says, in America, there's no tragedy, no failure, no impotence, no premature ejaculation. Well

Uh huh Meanwhile, Blur First Blur album Leisure had come out in 1991 It's a little tepid, a little corny A bit of a faceless baggy Pop Rock deal Baggy is in another dancy UK subgenre But also baggy isn't

You know, and it's kind of sucky They need to find their purpose They need an arch enemy Blur's first big idea for an arch enemy is You guessed it America And Swade But also America Blur consider calling

their next album, England versus America. Blur frontman, Damon Albarns starts talking wild shit. He starts saying shit like, if punk was about getting rid of hippies, then I'm getting rid of grunge. He's pissed that everyone in England is obsessed with Nirvana. He'd prefer everyone be obsessed with him instead. He says shit like, I've always known I'm incredibly special. All my life. It's not a big deal. Sorry. Interviews are easy. And so now for his actual songs for Blur, Damon starts writing. kinks-style character assassinations of random-ass middle-class English people, just savagely clowning civilians. At the time, every blur song sounded to me like a state fair carnival ride malfunctioning, and lyrically, every blur song seemed to be a brutal takedown of like a mailman from Liverpool.

There's a blur song called Colin Zeal, who's just a guy, a sucky guy. This song appears on Blur's second album in 1993, which they do not call England versus America. Instead, they call it modern life is rubbish. I love this chorus. It's so weird and mean and doofy in quite a charming way. Maybe claustrophobic, stifled Englishness really is conducive to great art. Colin Zeal is a punctual guy. What a jackass!

He's pleasing himself. He's place it himself. He's so place it himself. Speaking of being pleased with yourself, Blur is about to dethrone Swade as the biggest band in England. Their third album, Park Life, released in April 94, even makes Blur minor pop stars in America. I've always really liked the song Girls and Boys, but for whatever reason, I've always loved imagining how much other people must hate it.

Finally, among Britpop's big guns, we've got Elastica, led by Justine Frischman, who sounds let's leastly English, is the way I describe it. And let's just say she's the reason swayed and blur loathe each other. And let's just say in her first big interview with the NME, she said, says, I can't think of anything better than 16-year-old boys wanking and looking at a poster of me, but don't quote me on that, because I'll kick your head in. Interviews are dangerous.

Elastica's connection, first release in 94, sounded magnificent on Midwestern All-Rock Radio. Another jam from Elastika's self-titled 1995 debut is called Stutter, and is about male sexual dysfunction, of which there is none, mercifully, in America. Lethally English. Lethal in general. So there you have it. A lot of adversaries. Britt Pop was lousy with adversaries.

It was a whole point. But Oasis crushed them all. Oasis conquered. The Gallagher family grew up in a suburb of Manchester called Burnage. You can find their modest childhood home on tourist sites on the internet. If you're looking to visit in person, one site advises, please be discreet due to the current neighborhood. I can't tell if that means don't bother anyone currently living there

or everyone currently living around there will beat the crap out of you. Maybe both. Manchester is a northern city, a somewhat gray and industrial city, a historically culturally vibrant city. Manchester is the Detroit of England. Ugh.

That's even worse. The Gallagher's. Peggy and Tommy were Irish immigrants who had three boys. First came Paul, then Noel, then Liam. The Gallagher brothers talked quite a bit about how their father,

Tommy, was physically abusive, both to their mother and at least to Noel. Noel, who was obsessed with music from the start, would later say, I guess in some way, my fella beat the talent into me. Liam, for his part, as a surly teen, was more outgoing, more popular, more handsome, more aloof. Paul, his other older brother, tells a story about a gang fight at school, where Liam and his crew were ambushed, essentially,

and someone botched Liam on the head with a hammer. Bosched is bad, bopped is good, But Liam says that from that day forward, something clicked. He started hearing music. It started making sense. Noel says, someone hammered the music into him. Music to both these guys is inextricable from violence. It is the cause and the effect of great personal violence.

So Noel's always trying to write songs, always playing guitar. He's into the smiths. He's into the stone roses. He's trying to learn House of the Rising Sun. I quite like this image of young Noel Gallagher and his modest bedroom, fumbling through the rift, the house of the rising sun, not quite getting it right. Just a hint of humility to this scene, never to return. Noah leaves home to Rode for a popular rock band called In Spiral Carpets from Oldham,

a little northeast of Manchester. I've heard exactly one In Spiral Carpet song in my whole life, two worlds collide. It sounded fine on Midwestern All-Rock Radio. Best rock band in history with the word Carpets in their name. Shout out in Spiral Carpets. Their nickname for Noah was Monobrow. Anyway, Noel comes home and his little brothers in a band. Liam's singing in a band.

Someone botched Liam with a hammer and he joined a band called The Rain. Liam doesn't like the name The Rain. Liam renames the band Oasis. Noel goes and sees Oasis. Oasis at this point consists of Liam on vocals and tambourine. Paul Bonehead Arthur's on guitar, nickname Bonehead after he got a bad haircut. Paul McGuigan on bass guitar, known as Gwigsie,

and Tony McCarroll on drums. attached to Tony. Noel digs the band. Noel, with Liam's blessing, joins the band. Noel says, right, if I join this band, and I mean it, right? You fucking belong to me seven days a week and we're going for it big time. Noel takes over the band. The band starts going for it big time. Soon, Oasis has a song literally called Rock and Roll Star. Vowels. Liam Gallagher sings the word out like he wants out, like he's manifesting it. Same deal with the word, star. Same deal with the word action on a song literally called cigarettes and alcohol. Same deal with the word fly on a song literally called live forever. Vowels. My new favorite word in that song is

Garden. That's a ballad. Noel wrote Live Forever for his mother who'd so long ago left her abusive husband and taken her beloved boys with her. Peggy. Their beloved Peggy, she's a rainbow. The oasis sound as by Noel Gallagher does not require much analysis. In fact, when Noel starts talking wild shit and starts talking shit 10 times wilder than anybody else's shit, Noel starts saying shit like, music for me at the moment is dead. It's Ponzi and serious, and everyone's got to make some sort of statement, whether it's about park life or their feminine side or their politics, but we're a rock and roll band. Everyone's dead into analyzing, but don't analyze our band. That's a good song, that is. What does it mean? Who gives a fuck what it

means. It's a good question. In the Brit pop book, John Harris says that the Oasis sound was built on a foundation of brutal simplicity. Bar chords on Bonehead's guitar, root notes on Guizzi's bass, basic four-four rhythms for Tony's drums, though Tony often struggled even with those. John Harris calls it a sound so devoid of finesse and complexity that it came out sounding pretty much unstoppable. So Oasis plays a show in Glasgow, Scotland, on May 31st, 1993, at a joint called King Tuts Wawa Hut. If you go there,

please be discreet due to the current neighborhood. Oasis are the opener. They play four songs. They had to fight to even play four songs. And in the modest crowd is Alan McGee. Jovial Scotsman and fiery cocaine gallum, Alan McGee, a reformed wild man. Alan says he cleaned up right around this time.

He's doing great now. He's fine. William says about this show, there was seven people there, I think, and he was two of them. Good line. Alan McGee, you see, is co-founder of Creation Records, the famous and ultra-cool creation records, Jesus and Mary Chain, primal scream,

My Bloody Valentine, and soon, and most famously, Oasis. Alan is especially sweet on a song called Bring It On Down, possibly for the underdog voraciousness of it all, possibly for the vowels. The first Oasis record comes out in August 1994. It is called Definitely Maybe. It debuts at number one. in England. Generally, credible people will tell you that definitely maybe is the best

oasis album. I will tell you that at the very least, definitely maybe includes the very best oasis song, which of course is slide away. It's the way Liam attacks the vowels in the words that and find. I love watching Liam Gallagher sing, his posture on stage. Often his hands are clasped behind his back, as though he expects to be handcuffed eventually. He's looking up, He's tilted up at the microphone. Slightly, echoes of Lemmy from Motorhead. There is a religious, a supplicant, a devotional aspect that is further amplified by the parka somehow. Maybe I love this posture because there is otherwise nothing religious or supplicant about Liam Gallagher in his daily life.

He's so brusque, so unremittingly cool, so aloof, as Lars might say. What I love about Slideaway is that Liam's aloofness cracks slightly. He sings this song with such angst, such intensity. I couldn't say why. Noel wrote this song about his girlfriend before the girlfriend he'd allegedly write Wonderwall about. No offense to the three other guys, Bonehead and Gwigsie and the drummer is about to get fired, whereupon he will literally hire Pete Best's lawyer to help sue the band. But Oasis is the Liam and Noel show. The perpetual five million round Noel versus Liam title fight. This title fight is ongoing. Ergo the sweet trolley. The Brains versus the nose. The song.

writer versus the singer, the frontman versus the other front man, big brother versus little brother, the guy who wrote rock and roll star versus the guy who lived rock and roll star. In the UK, Oasis once charted a single called Whibling Rivalry, which is not even a song, it's an interview. It's a recording of a journalist, it was John Harris, actually, interviewing Liam and Noel in a hotel room and listening to them scream obscenities at one another. Noel is angry because Liam's various boorish public antics are diluting the impact of the band's music. Liam is angry because Noel won't admit that these various boorish public antics are a huge part of the band's impact. Actually, I think my favorite part of wibbling rivalry right now is

when Noel just yells, music, music, music over and over, while Liam yells, you want to be Keith Richards over and over. You want to be. Music. Music. Music. Music. Music.

Music. Music. Music. Music. Music. Music. Music. Music.

Music. Music. Music. Let's talk about music. Oasis runs. Oasis thrives on the enmity between the Gallagher brothers. As one of their managers, a woman named Christine Mary Biller puts it in the 2016 documentary Oasis Supersonic. Noel has a lot of buttons.

Liam has a lot of fingers. It's that simple, really. For example, most of whibbling rivalry is an argument about the fairy incidents. So Liam gets in a brawl on a ferry to an Oasis gig in Amsterdam and gets deported before they even get there. Noel briefly quits the band. He comes back. Time passes. Oasis Tour America get themselves some cocaine but fail to realize that the cocaine is actually crystal meth.

So they snored a ton of crystal meth and melt down on stage. Whereupon Liam throws a tambourine at Noel. Out of time, I might add, Noel says, great line. And Noel briefly quits the band again. He slips a soppy handwritten goodbye letter under Liam's hotel door. Liam rolls up the letter and uses it to snort more crystal meth. Actually, that's a useful way to frame it. Noel provides the lyric sheet, and Liam just knows what to do with it.

This is not to frame Noel as this sober, thoughtful, respectful member of Oasis. Oasis in 1995 are on the cusp of overtaking Blur as the biggest band in England. Oasis are arguably about to be the biggest band in the world. Blur versus Oasis, consequently, is a big whoop. Brief summary of the Blur versus Oasis rivalry. Oasis lived like common people. Blur wanted to live like common people. So in another interview, somebody asked Noah what he thinks of blur.

And Noel says this, The guitarist I've got a lot of time for. The drummer I've never met. I hear he's a nice guy. The bass player and singer, I hope the pair of them catch AIDS and die because I fucking hate them too. That is terrible. Just to clarify,

The first person to inform Noel that that was a terrible thing to say is, in fact, Noel's mom. Peggy's not happy. Noel is not happy that Peggy's not happy. He says, the first person on the phone was me mom saying, I didn't raise you to say things like that. Noel says, my whole world came crashing in on me then. You don't get to live forever with your mother if your mother kills you. So that's the state of affairs upon the release of What's the Story Morning Glory? in October of 1995.

What does that title mean? Who gives a fuck what it means? Oasis layers can be simple, jovial, alarmingly memorable nonsense. What does it mean precisely to be caught beneath the landslide in a champagne supernova in the sky? Does that just mean someday I will pay

for all the stupid shit I said and did and snorted? Isn't that enough? Whatever the chorus to don't look back in anger means pales in comparison to how transcendence and immortal the chorus to don't look back in anger, makes you feel. Noel decided to sing this song himself. Liam was displeased. Unpleasantries were exchanged. One assumes, nonetheless, for the rest of us, transcendence. But on the Morning Glory record especially, you live for these moments when Liam sings with perfect, unmistakable clarity,

a line that Noel wrote with perfect unmistakable clarity, an agonized, morally bereft clarity, usually. So on what's the story, Morning Glory, the song, you get a story, startling opening line indeed. All your dreams are made when you're chained to the mirror and the razor blade. Oasis in this moment are peaking and conquering, and at least starting the slow motion process of collapsing. This collapse will take years. It starts small.

The What's the Story Morning Glory album features a new drummer. For one thing, Tony McCarroll got fired. He hired Pete Best's lawyer and sued. Unbelievable, new drummer's name is Alan White. Rolling Stone and the Boptum cover story, describes Alan White as a mild, likable London native who once walked out of an oasis concert because he was unhappy with the drumming. Be the change you want to see in the world. Alan is an improvement. Real quick, hit us with the don't look back in angered drum fill, Alan.

True story, I was listening to that drum fill the exact moment I found out Charlie Watts died. So what's the story? Morning Glory is a commercial monster. In the UK, it is the fifth best-selling album of all time. Top five UK albums of all time. Queen's greatest hits, Abba's greatest hits, Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club band, Adele's 21, and What's the Story, Morning Glory? I still love this album.

I love cast no shadow. A rather melancholy ballad, Noel wrote in honor of Richard Ashcroft, front man for the verve, fellow English rock stars. In a couple years, Richard will be the bittersweet symphony guy, something of a melancholy balladier himself. Don't look back in anger, rad song. Champagne Supernova, rad song.

especially the way the title sounds like Champagne Supernova when Liam sings it. You don't get the fifth best-selling album in UK history if there's only one good song on your album. But one historically transcendent song on your album does help quite a bit. Alan McGee says, The minute I heard Wonderwall, I thought we can sell 10 million records. Turns out he was wrong. They sold 22 million. Backbeat.

The word was on the street that the fire in your heart is out. heard it all before, but you never really had a doubt. Another great out from Liam there. I really want to tell you that my breath caught as a 17-year-old or so the very first time I heard Wonderwall and the drums kicked in. I think that's what happened. I am guarding against my subconscious impulse to romanticize this memory. You sell 22 million copies of a record worldwide, and people start incepting

florid memories of hearing that record's massive hit song for the first time. But I really do think my breath caught when the drums kicked in. That is all hyperbole aside a breathtaking pop song moment when the drums kick in. And the cello. The cello is a wonder wall, secret weapon. Fun fact, it's not a cello. It's a melitron, little keyboard. Fun fact, number two, the melitron is played by Bonehead.

This fun fact is raised Bonehead in my esteem a thousandfold. Actually, I'd now like to read you a tweet from Bonehead from April 2020. Bonehead speaks. Here we go. Wonderwall. Period. Who doesn't know this one? Would have sounded better with a bit of ambient bird song at the beginning? Ah, well, that's me on the Melatron doing the cello parts.

Think I did most of the keyboards on this album. Great tweet. Shout out Bonehead. I'm not sure about the bird song, but nonetheless. Another fun and rather well-known fact is that Liam did not, at first, like Wonderwall. I have a vague memory at the time of some interview where Noel was making fun of Liam because Liam didn't understand why the drums kicked in like that. Why doesn't the song just start with drums? I do think part of what makes Liam's delivery of Wonderwall so exceptional is that in

this moment he's maybe still unconvinced. In 2020, Liam told Rolling Stone, at first I didn't like it. What the fuck is this tune? I said, I don't like this. It's a bit funky. F-O-N-K-Y. I got police vibes. It was a bit sting. I like the heavier stuff. I said, this doesn't suit me, man. What you're hearing is Liam in real time, realizing that even if it is a bit sting, this song suits him just fine. This is such an elegant songwriter's line, perfect, unmistakable clarity, the humility and the colossal arrogance of that line. There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how. I don't know what to say is the most romantic. thing to say. I can't think of the next line as the perfect next line. Wonderwall, of course,

is a Beatles reference of sorts. Wonderwall is an arty movie from 1968, starring Jane Birkin, and scored by George Harrison. It's not on Netflix. Wonderwall, of course, is a phrase as otherwise largely meaningless. It's whatever you want it to be, or whatever anyone else wants it to be. Perhaps the Noel's chagrin. In 2020, Noel tried to say the song wasn't really about Meg Matthews at all, perhaps because he and Meg are no longer together. He said, The meaning of that song was taken away from me by the media who jumped on it. And how do you tell your missus it's not about her once she's read? It is.

It's a song about an imaginary friend who's going to come and save you from yourself. Hey, speaking of saving you from yourself, did I ever tell you about the time I did Wonderwall at karaoke? It was horrible. Oh, God. My younger brother Ryan took me to a bar called On Tap in Akron, Ohio. I believe on tap has since closed permanently due to sustained public outcry regarding my terrible version of Wonderwall. This was not private room karaoke. On Tap at a stage, had a robust crowd of regulars, had a whole scene.

And I drink like half an IPA, right? And I decide I'm going to grace this joint with my presence, a more delicate and cerebral approach to karaoke. And I arbitrarily decide on Wonderwall, and I march on up there, and I grab a mic and I bomb. It's the vowels. man the words maybe saves me after all in wonderwall take 15 minutes apiece to sing when you are singing badly when you are dying on stage in a packed karaoke bar in acron ohiole oh the vowels i looked at my right halfway through the first chorus and the karaoke DJ guys got a laptop where he can futz with a speed and therefore the pitch of the song i can see his little dashboard speedometer deal

And it totally throws me because he's clearly doing some fudson as I'm singing. And I can't decide if that's because I'm off keen, he's trying to be helpful. Or if it's because my whole vibe is so morose and catastrophic that he's making me sound even worse on purpose so that I get booed off stage faster. Problem with that, though, the crowd booing would require energy and a perverse sort of enthusiasm. But no, it's like I've sucked the joy, the very life out of the room with a giant cartoon Acme vacuum cleaner. Just silence. dead-eyed motionless silence. I could hear myself sweating.

I could hear all the pint glasses sweating. The vowels. Don't be like me. I'm not saying don't try this at home. Go ahead. Try Wonderwall at home. You're home. You're alone.

Presumably you don't have a whole PA system. There are walls protecting other people from you. What I'm saying is don't try this in public. Defeated by vowels. Vowls defeat Rob 1-0. World historically awful. I was so bad I made the news. So I flea the stage in terror

and skulked back to my seat and drink the other half of my IPA and mortified shame. Nobody would even look at me. Best performance that night was this random dude that did Don't Bring Me Down by Electric Light Orchestra

by ELO. ELO also wanted to be the Beatles. And the dude rolled his ours perfectly on the word Bruce. Like so. Don't bring me do. Incredible Roldars from this guy. This guy defeats Roldars 1-0.

Just stupendous. I'm so impressed I go over to compliment the guy on his bruses, and he just looks at me like, are you the dumb ass who just ruined Wonderwall? And I look back at him like, yes. And then I walk home and enter the witness protection program. End of anecdote. Fun fact, number three.

Wonderwall was not a number one hit in England. Peaked at number two. Held off by a version of the 50s pop song, I believe, sung by an actor turned pop star duo called Robeson and Jerome. You look it up. Holy shit, I've been talking a long time. Remember how the Wonderwall video starts

with a record player sitting on the ground and a sad clown walks into the shot and turns it on in black and white? That's the Wonderwall's videos vibe. Quite morose. Remember when Wonderwall functionally served as the ether of the blur versus Oasis feud and made Oasis global pop stars

and hastened Brit Pop's maximalist implosion? Remember when Liam described Radiohead as a boring bunch of fucking students? F-U-C-K-D-I-N-G-S-T-O-O-O-D-E-N-T-S, Best Band-on-B-Ban Insult in Rock and Roll History? Remember when OASIS played two gargantuan outdoor shows in 1996 and Nebworth for 125,000 people in night, and they keep making documentaries about it? Remember in 1997 when the next Oasis record, Be Here Now, caused the spectacular. Demise of English Rock. Here is a direct quote from Noel Gallagher.

It was an album mixed on cocaine. That's why it sounds like it does. Loads and loads of trebly guitars. Here is a direct quote from Liam Gallagher. In 1996, I was doing as much cocaine as anyone you've ever heard of. Can I tell you that this is my favorite thing that either Gallagher brother has ever said? It's not the funniest. It's not the meanest.

a plain spoken serenity to it. I was doing as much cocaine as anyone you've ever heard of, implying, as it does, that perhaps someone you've never heard of was doing more cocaine than anyone you've heard of. Liam Gallagher included, anyway, would you like to hear what doing more cocaine than anyone you've ever heard of sounds like? That's from the intro to the song, Do you know what I mean? Do you know what I mean takes a little while to get going? Most of Be Here Now does. Do you know who don't? generally take a while to get going? People on cocaine.

Cocaine, the devil's reverb. Cocaine, the other third Gallagher brother. Cocaine, the sweetest sweet in the sweet trolley. Cocaine, the titular hill in the fool on the hill. Cocaine, the mortar in the wonder wall. That Oasis documentary, Oasis Supersonic, it ends with those giant Nebworth shows in 1996, with the dudes arriving on stage via a fucking helicopter. And Bonehead and Noel in the movie, both say pretty explicitly that maybe the band should

have ended right there. Oasis have five more albums to go in this moment, starting with Be Here Now. What this movie presupposes is? What if they didn't? The old Neil Young line, it's better to burn out than to fade away. Of course, we mostly associate that with death. Kirk Cobain quoted that line in a suicide note. not talking about the oasis helicopter exploding and neither are they they're talking about just

flying away off to their own private island to cocaine island sure fine by now they should have somehow realized what they got to do they've done enough they've lived their songs as few other bands ever did or ever will they became rock and roll stars they will and their own immodest way live forever and they've earned the right to triumphantly slide away Our guest today is our dear friend Stephen Hayden, critic, podcaster, and author. Most recently of the book, This Isn't Happening, Radiohead's Kid A in the beginning of the 21st century. It's great to talk to you, Steve. It's great to be here to talk about Oasis.

Is it your birthday today, Steve? It is. Oh, dear. What a gift it is to be here to talk to you about one of my most cherished bands. I'm relieved to hear you say that. Happy birthday. My apologies. I'm very sorry. Honestly, I'm thrilled. I appreciate the invitation. All right, good. I know the answer to this, but I'll ask anyway.

Oasis or Blur? I mean, it's always been Oasis for me. I don't know if it, well, I guess that would be true in the greater consciousness, because especially in America, Oasis is way more popular than Blur. But I feel like the cool kid opinion is blur. but yeah, I'm always on Oasis aside. Yeah, yeah. Of course, you wrote an entire book, Your Favorite Band Is Killing Me about band feuds in Chapter 1 was Oasis versus Blur.

Does that feud still matter in the slightest or affect how we listen to either band now? Like, is this a forever war, or did the war effectively end years ago? The short answer is it's not relevant, I don't think. I'm sure that even for people who were alive at the time, that weren't living in England, that it wasn't very relevant. And I wrote about that in my book that it was weird for me as a teenager living in Wisconsin in the mid-90s to care about what was essentially an argument over chart placement in England. You know, it had no relevance in America at all.

But I will say, you know, recently I tweeted a joke about Damon Alburn's haircut. He has a very It's kind of like a southern redneck type mullet that he has right now. It's a rich text, yeah. Yeah, and I made a crack where I said something like, this looks like a guy who just realized that he'll never be as good as Oasis.

Ooh. And I said that with tongue and cheek, you know, of course. Knowing people who know me, they know I'm an Oasis fan and I had to take a shot of Damon Alburn. But that was retort. tweeted a bunch by militant blur fans who were really angry that I made this joke. So it's not relevant, but if you poke the bear, it seems like you can still get people upset about it,

you know, 25 odd years later. You didn't get swatted or anything, right? Like, I guess you're alive to tell the tale. Yeah, I mean, the mute button does wonders. I'll just say that if you haven't tried it. It sure does. It's magical. We both grew up in the Midwest.

as a teenager, how did you picture England based on Oasis songs? Like, how accurate a picture of modern England does an American teenager get from listening to Oasis? Well, at the time when Oasis came around, I was already listening to the great British bands of the 60s, 70s, and 80s, starting with the Beatles and Stones going into the sex pistols and the clash and the jam and then into the 80s with the Smiths. and the cure bands like that. So part of the appeal of Oasis to me at the time was I saw them as like the next band and the lineage that this could be my version of that. I wasn't just listening to old bands.

This was like a new great British rock band that seemed to have a lot of the qualities of the old British rock band. So, you know, I don't think I ever thought of England as a place as much as a sensibility or a vibe. Like I always associated the English rock bands with rock and rock. role and not as a noun, but as a verb, you know, as like a way of life or a way of being. And I think especially at that point in the 90s, you know, you had all the grunge bands of the early 90s that were very anti-rock stardom, very skeptical of all the tropes of being in a

band. And then you have Oasis that, you know, the first song on the first record is, you know, I want to be a rock and roll star, you know. And that, I think, was very appealing to me at the time. So again, I think England to me, it wasn't a place, it was a vibe. And Oasis, I think, you know, whether they were authentic or not, whether they were like a cartoon version of that, which they probably were. I mean, it just spoke to me as an American who loved English rock music. Did that lineage end with them?

Well, you know, you have like the libertines who come out in the early arts. And it seemed like they were like a self-conscious revival of. of that sort of thing. And it seems like every now and then you'll get a band that is plugging into what they're trying to do. I mean, Colplay, you know, Chris Martin, I mean, Coleplay doesn't have the attitude that Oasis has. But they sort of took like the big ballad sound, you know, the Wonderwall. They took the Wonderwall, exactly. And they don't look back in anger as a template, along with some things from Radiohead.

Right. And they move forward. And, I mean, they're even more successful than Oasis. So I think that they're just one of those bands in the same way that the Beatles were for Oasis. I think Oasis is probably, there's like a little bit of that band, I think, in the DNA of any British rock band that gains traction. Sure. Whether they acknowledge it or not. Right.

Wonderwall is obviously the biggest Oasis song, the biggest Brit pop song, but it goes way beyond that. It's the first 90 song with a billion streams. It is number two on the list of Spotify's most streamed songs from the 20th century. It's only behind Bohemian Rhapsody. Does the ungodly hugueness of Wonderwall in 2021 surprise you? You know, not really because if you think of the 90s in the big 90s rock songs, because I think smells like Teen Spirit is in the top 10. It is.

It doesn't have as many as Wonderwall. you hear smells like teen spirit and it instantly evokes its moment in time. I mean, I think that's a great song that you can appreciate if you weren't alive at the time. But you think of the 90s as much as you think of the 60s when you hear Mr. Tambourine Man by the Birds or something. You know, it's very evocative of its period. And I think there's something about Wonderwall that transcends that, probably because Oasis was already trying to evokely. the past in the 90s. Like they were very, like I said before,

they were very much cut from the cloth of 60s and 70s bands. So in a way, it's, I think, released that song from its period. And I think it's easier for people who weren't alive at the time to hear Wonderwall

and just appreciate it as a good song and not just as like a 90s rock song. Those are the only two 90s songs in the top 10 most stream songs of the 20th century is Wonderwall and smells like teen spirit. The rest of it is Queen. And then Toto's Africa. I don't know if that's a Weezer thing.

It probably isn't. Don't stop believing sweet child of mine every breath you take. And then a bunch of queen songs. That's the list. So that's hallowed company for Wonderwall. And it's all these love songs, really. Like these big anthemic love songs. And I was thinking about this with Wonderwall because, like, a lot of Oasis songs, the text is meaningless.

Like, the lyrics make no sense. It's basically gobbledygook. Very much so. And Noel Gallagher has said this many times that he doesn't care about lyrics. They're essentially just placeholders for the vocal melody. And in a way, I feel like that adds something to that song because it is a song that I think people know is about expressing love and devotion for, you know, the lover. Something. Yeah, for something in the song.

Which, by the way, you know, it's funny because we. Wonderwall, it references the name of a George Harrison solo album, which no one really knows as the title of this Oasis song. I mean, I feel like Noel Gallagher should have said, you know, you're my all things must pass. You know, like if you're going to reference a George Harrison album and use it as a metaphor for something being great, it should be the greatest George Harrison solo album, but I digress on that. Didn't fit the meter, I guess, yeah. I really think that with Oasis, it always comes down to Noel Gallagher's melodies and Liam Gallagher's delivery. It doesn't matter what the lyrics are.

The melodies there and Liam Gallagher, the way he sings those lyrics are what matter. And there's something about taking an arrogant lunkhead and giving him a vehicle for being sensitive. Introspection. Yeah, yeah. And it always works. People go crazy for it. It's like the Hans Solo formula, you know? It transcends music.

It happens in film, books, what have you. And I think if Noel Gallagher had sung that song, I think it just would have been another sensitive Noel Gallagher ballad. But because Liam sings it and it gives them an opportunity to be tender, people, they just love that combination. So I really think that's like the magic of that song. If I remember correctly, your opinion is that definitely maybe is the best oasis out. album, is Wonderwall the best Oasis song?

Well, I mean, it's not my favorite Oasis song, and I'm going to do the obnoxious fan thing, where, you know, you never want to pick the most popular song as your favorite song. You want to go with something a little more obscure or something more close to you. And again, I'm very obnoxious in this regard, because my favorite Oasis song is Acquies, which is a B-side. Oh, it's a B-side. But it's an amazing song. It's an amazing song, though. It's not just because it's obscure. It's because it's great.

But yeah, I mean, in terms of impact, though, you can't deny the greatness of Wonderwall. It's really probably the only time where Noel Gallagher lived up to the bravado of his interviews in the mid-90s. Right, right. And I think he was kind of joking at the time and maybe also kind of serious, but he would talk about wanting to be the biggest band in the world. and we're going to be bigger than the Beatles and all that. And he did it with Wonderwall.

He pulled it off. He wrote a song that is as popular in many ways as Hey Jude, you know, which is an amazing achievement. And he never did it again. But it's like, how many times do you have to do that? You know, maybe you have to just do it once and that's enough. Right. But he did it that one time and you can't take that away from him.

Yeah, because Noel has this theory. you mentioned it in your book that like the first two oasis albums were massive and then they fell off a cliff, but people would look at the band differently if they'd started out with a bunch of disappointing albums, and then their last two albums were massive. Like, peaking at the end makes you look more triumphant than peaking near the beginning. Like, you don't seem to totally buy that, but is there any argument there that a band gets more respect for getting better versus getting worse? Well, I think he was making the case that it doesn't matter if your great albums come at

the beginning or at the end that he felt like he was being punished by people because the first two albums were classics and the ones that came after, which by the way, I think are better than they're given credit for, but they're obviously not as good as the first two, as well as all the singles that they were putting out at that time, because that's another important thing to distinguish here that it's not just those first two records, but there's like a whole album of B-sides that they were releasing that were really... Like Aquarius, yeah. Yeah, exactly.

And he was saying, well, you know, just because my two great masterpieces came at the beginning, that doesn't, I shouldn't be punished for that. And I will say that in Oasis's case, I think that's true. I don't think that people think less of Oasis necessarily because, you know, standing on the shoulder of giants didn't produce a wonder wall or, you know, heathen chemistry, you know, didn't have a don't look back in anger. I think, like I would compare them to Weezer in the, that way that I think Weezer's reputation has suffered in a way because they have a similar

thing where their first two records are beloved and then after that it's a little bit spotty. And of course, their trajectory has been so much wackier than OASIS is. And people differ on that. Some people love those, you know, the Red Album and Rattitude and all that stuff. But I think with OASIS, they are frozen in time for a lot of people in the mid-90s. And it's almost like those other albums don't exist. And Oasis themselves have encouraged that by, you know, the documentary that came out, Live Forever. It ends when they play Nebworth, which is like the peak of What's the Story, Morning Glory, mania.

And now they have a concert documentary about Nebworth. About that show, right, right. But coming out. Personally, I hope they make a Be Here Now documentary because I think that is one of the most fascinating periods of their career. I'm fascinated when bands fail. And I thought that was a weakness of the documentary that didn't include that because I would have loved to have seen video camera footage of Noel Gallagher doing Scarface smiles of cocaine.

Exactly. And overdubbing more guitars on my big mouth, you know? Right, right. Let's get more helicopter sounds on. Do you know what I mean? Let's make this like five minutes of helicopter sounds at the beginning of his record. Exactly. You know, like the apocalypse now of.

of albums. So hopefully that will happen someday. Because you like Be Here Now more than the average Oasis fan. I think people are coming around on that album a little bit. I remember when it came out. I bought it. The day it came out, I was in my college dorm about a week early because I was working at the school paper. And I just remember hanging out in my dorm room alone, listening to be here now and watching footage of Princess Diana's death. Oh, wow. That is loaded. Because I think she died like a day or two after that.

It was like right around that time. So, yeah, just the juxtaposition of be here now when Princess Diana's death. I mean, it was like a bad time for the British Empire in August of 97. But I really liked it when it came out and then I didn't like it for many years. And now I love it again. And I'm solidly on the side of loving it because I think there's some really good songs on that record. And also because there's no way an album like that could exist. exist today. There's no way a rock man is going to have that much money, that much, you know, fame and ego and drugs to just go balls out like that.

So the excess of it, I find myself really appreciating more now than I did even at the time. It's like this is like, it's like looking at Cleopatra, you know, the Elizabeth Taylor movie from the 60s or something. It's like they're never going to make a movie like this again, you know. Right, right. Or water world with Kevin Costner. Like, why would they give Kevin Costner gills in a post-apocalyptic world? That's never going to happen. So it's kind of, it's more poignant in a way that when you listen to it, that you didn't have that when you heard it originally. Right.

There's not enough cocaine left in the world for that to be repeated. Do you think the Gallagher brothers will ever reconcile and do we want them to, or is there greater cultural value in them insulting each other on Twitter? until the end of time. Well, on one hand, I always feel that any band that is broken up or on hiatus or strange or whatever the case may be, that they will come back eventually because at some point there will be too much money on the table to say no to. So I feel that way about Oasis.

On the other hand, you know, Noel Gallagher has been very adamant that he will never get back together with his brother. And it really is up to Null at this point because Liam has all but said that he wants to do a reunion. Yes. And, you know, it seems like with Nol, the equation is, do I need more money or do I want to preserve my pride? Prestige. Yeah. The idea of like I've said no so many times, if I cave now, you know, will I look weak? I mean, I really think it comes down to that because honestly, I think in terms of, you know, just purely artistic considerations,

If you listen to each Gallagher Brothers' respective solo albums, it's so obvious what the other one would have brought to the equation if they were together. You know, you listen to Liam's records, and it's like great attitude, great swagger, his voice sounds good, but the songs aren't particularly memorable. And then with Noel, it's like good tunes, but it's a little drowsy, you know? Like there's not the edge, the excitement. I feel like Noel deep down knows that on some level. He must know that.

But the aggravation of working with his brother, or again, the pride of, I can't admit this, prevents them from getting back together. So I don't know. I still lean towards yes, though, because I think the money is there. I think the legacy is there. I honestly believe that if they did a reunion tour, certainly around the world, they'd be playing arenas and stadiums. But I think even in America, certainly in the big markets. Coachella 20. 29.

Yeah. You know, I could see them doing Madison Square Garden, like one or maybe two nights. I mean, I think you look again at the success of Wonderwall, and it shows that that band has crossed over to younger generations in a way that a lot of 90s rock bands haven't. I mean, I really think that there is a younger audience out there that would want to see a band like Oasis. Just because, I mean, who's the oasis of today? Like a band that is so big, so anthemic, so over the top. and you have these two brother maniacs who are going after each other, they're still like a lane for them that hasn't been taken by another band.

Greta Van Fleet isn't cutting it for me at this point. Midwest, notwithstanding, yeah. Yeah, they need to start having better quotes in the paper, you know, insulting each other. Yeah. A couple covers of Wonderwall that may deserve mention. The first, as you mentioned to me, is Ryan Adams. It's very tempting to avoid him. but he covered Wonderwall in the early 2000s.

A lot of people really loved it, including Noel himself. Was it important to Wonderwall at that moment that a revered songwriter like Ryan Adams at that time, gave that song his blessing? Yeah, you know, it's funny how the tides turn because obviously Ryan Adams' reputation in 2021 is not particularly Sterling. I think we can say that safely. But yeah, in 2002, I think the idea with the Wonderwall cover was almost that it was like an ironic cover. He was doing this tender cover of a song that...

So cheesy. Yeah. I think a lot of music snob type people look down on Oasis and they thought, oh, here's this sensitive alt-country troubadour who is redeeming this like overplayed alt-rock hit. Whereas now, I don't feel like people look at Wonderwall. that way. I mean, they do look at other 90s rock songs that way, but I think Wonderwall is generally like well regarded as like a great timeless song. I mean, that's why it's on that list with Bohemian Rhapsody and smells like teen spirit

and, you know, people just play the hell out of it. But yeah, I do think that for at least a few years that Ryan Adams cover, it almost legitimized Wonderwall in a weird way. And again, that seems so weird to say now, like Ryan Adams, legitimized something. I mean, that's like a bizarre statement to make in 2021. But in the odds, I think it was true for a few years. But yeah, you can't listen to a song a billion times ironically, I guess.

Like, yeah, Oasis has emerged with more prestige than they had 20 years ago. The other cover I wanted to at least mention was Jay-Z, who did it at Glastonbury in 2008, like after people were mad that he was headlining Glastonbury. And he, like, he did it as a joke or like a flex. I guess, like, does that, too, confer more respect on Wonderwall that playing it can be shorthand for fuck you? Well, yeah, I think Noel Gallagher was leading the charge there, wasn't he? Did he make a crack about, so it seemed like, is that even a sub-tweet or is that just,

I don't even know if that's a sub-tweet. It's a pretty direct shot. That's an at, yeah. At him. But the thing with Wonderwall is that even if you're doing it as a piss take, if you're Glastonbury and someone's doing Wonderwall, I mean, I think the lighters go up immediately. I mean, there's just a Pavlovian. Yeah, exactly.

It's still an anthem, even if you're using it as a piss take. So it's like Jayzie got a good shot in at Noel, but he was still singing Noel's song at a festival and kind of proving that the song does great in any format. The last question I want to ask you, you wrote an entire book about Radiohead, of course, about Kid A, basically ending the 90s and kicking off. the 2000s, like, to your mind, where Radiohead ever a plain old Brit pop band or like ever on the same playing field as Oasis or Blur, Supergrass or whatever, like even Pablo Honey in the Ben's, where Radiohead always kind of on their own planet from all this? Well, I mean, Pablo Honey, I mean, it predates Oasis. So in a way, they were at the vanguard of a lot of that stuff that was going on.

But, you know, to answer like the spirit of your question, like, were they ever just like a dumb rock band? I mean, yeah, they were. I mean, Pablo Honey was... Pretty dumb. It's a dumb rock record. The thing with Radiohead that makes them different than Oasis is that Oasis and Blur, I mean, they were... Oasis was big in America and in England.

Blur was more of like a British phenomenon. Radiohead was not popular at all in England at first. They had to come to America to become stars. And it wasn't until Crete became a hit on MTV that the British press started paying attention to them. I mean, before that they were all... all about Swade. I don't know if anyone out there remember Swade. I mean, they're a great band, but they're more

of like the prototypical British rock band. I mean, you know, skinny guys with great cheekbones, you know, playing glam rock riffs. Pretty intense cheekbones in that band. Yeah, absolutely. Exquisite cheekbones. Like, Americans don't have cheekbones like these British works.

Not doughy midwesterners like you and I. You know, we can only dream of cheekbones like that. And I do. Yeah, we do. Although we're doing okay without those cheekbones. We're doing better than Swade right now, I think. Probably that's true. So we won in the end.

But yeah, absolutely. I mean, it's weird because I don't necessarily in my own mind think of them as a Britpop band, but I think that's only because of what happened after Pablo Honey and the way it changes your perception of the band. But yeah, definitely. I definitely think they should be slotted in there. And it's just funny considering how Radiohead and Oasis have always, I mean, they've taken shots at each other over the years too. I mean, that's almost like as lasting of a rivalry, maybe more so than Oasis Blur. You know, the like the troglodyte band versus like the intellectual band.

Fucking students. Yeah, exactly. It's my favorite insult of all time. I love it so much. It's great. It's amazing. So I love both bands, but I like it when they take shots at each other, too. Absolutely. This has been wonderful, Steve. Thanks so much for talking today.

Thanks for having me. Happy birthday. Oh, thank you. Thanks very much to our guest today's Steve Hayden. Thanks as always to our producers, Isaac Lee and Justin Sales. And thanks very much to you for listening. It's great to be back. And now without further ado, here's Oasis with Wonderwall. We'll see you next week.