The news hit like a lightning bolt: Oasis, the Britpop titans who defined the ‘90s with anthems like “Wonderwall” and “Champagne Supernova,” would reunite after 16 years of bitter silence between brothers Liam and Noel Gallagher. For Filipino fans, the announcement dredged up memories of what could have been: the canceled 2002 Manila show due to bomb threats, the years of waiting, and the Filipino bands who kept the spirit alive through tribute nights and cover sets.
The Gallagher brothers’ volatile relationship became as legendary as their music. Public spats, on-stage walkouts, and that final backstage brawl in Paris in 2009 cemented their reputation as rock’s most dysfunctional siblings. “People will write and say what they like, but I simply could not go on working with Liam a day longer,” Noel declared in his breakup statement. The split left Manila without a chance to experience Oasis live, a wound that still stings for fans who grew up on their albums.
But in the absence of the real thing, Filipino musicians stepped up. Independent promotions like Elev8 Me L8r organized Blur vs. Oasis nights, pitting local bands against each other to recreate the Britpop rivalry in venues like Mow’s Bar back in August 2024. These events were proof of Oasis’ enduring influence on a generation of Filipino artists. The impact extends beyond just the music. Local musicians have absorbed lessons from Oasis’ turbulent history, using it as both a cautionary tale and inspiration.
Brotherly Love
Francis Masangkay of The Braille Flowers remembers the first time he heard “Wonderwall” on the music television channel MYX. “I was mesmerized by Liam’s look with the circular shades,” he tells Rolling Stone Philippines. “They got me into shoegaze because of songs like ‘Columbia’ and ‘Champagne Supernova,’ which led me to bands like The Verve and Ride.” For Masangkay, the reunion is a chance for the Gallaghers to finally acknowledge that their music has outgrown their egos. “I hope they realize this is bigger than them,” he says. “It’s a communal celebration.”
“Never been a religious guy but God knows I’ve been praying for them Gallagher brothers to patch things up.”
Sam Marquez of industrial and alternative rock band One Click Straight, who performed at the Blur vs. Oasis night feels a personal connection to the brothers’ dynamic. His band is a family affair, with brothers and a cousin sharing the stage. “Being in a band with my brothers makes this reunion even more special,” Marquez admits. “Never been a religious guy but God knows I’ve been praying for them Gallagher brothers to patch things up.”
The possibility of Oasis finally playing Manila sends him into near-evangelical excitement: “If they come here, I’ll drop everything and race [to] the ticket counter. Maybe we need an Oasis tribute night every week just to coax them into booking a show. Biblical!”
The cultural imprint is undeniable. From the Gallagher brothers’ signature parkas becoming uniform for Manila’s indie musicians in the early 2000s, to their lyrical directness influencing a wave of Filipino songwriters, the Oasis DNA persists in unexpected ways. Even their infamous arrogance found its parallel in the confidence of emerging Pinoy rock acts during the 2010s.
Filipino bands, many of whom have weathered their own internal clashes, see the Gallaghers’ reconciliation as a rare second act. For every canceled show and public feud, there’s now the hope that even the most fractured relationships can mend, if only for the sake of the music. Their story proves that great art can emerge from chaos, but also that no band is invincible to self-destruction.
