Article by Narcis Drejan – published on Saturday, July 5, 2025, 11:13 / Updated on Saturday, 05 July 2025 11:14
Cannot be objective. I don't want to. But the gesture of Oasis, a band that hates Visceral Liverpool, will remain in the history of mankind
I am a big fan Oasis, I grew up with “Defintely Maybe” and “(What's the Story) Morning Glory?”, Two albums that are not only the soundtrack of a generation, but true masterpieces of British music. They were the soundtrack of my adolescence, ambitions, dreams, mocnite revolts.
So, when, last night, July 4, at Cardiff, the Gallagher brothers climbed on stage after 16 years of silence and scandal, my stomach was gathered like a lost passion that returns without announcing. The Oasis Na meeting was just a concert. It was an epiphany.
How to look at Liverpool?
During the song “Live Forever” was that moment that made the entire stadium amuse: Diogo Jota appeared on the huge screen. His image. His smile. His silence. With the back, with the number 20. And the lyrics “Maybe i Just Wanna Fly / Wanna Live, and Don't Wanna Die …” they never sounded stronger.
Whoever knows Liam Gallagher knows: he was born in Burnage, Manchester. City's wreck fan. Increased in pure rivalry with Liverpool.
He took his leg over Klopp, mocked to the scoop, turned rivalry into a beast religion. Let us not forget that he made rats, swore where he caught him.
And Liam was just the one who, at that time, offered a tribute to Jota, Liverpool player left tragically among us. It was a small gesture, but with cosmic significance.
It's like Maradona had a T -shirt with Brazil. Or Ian Brown from The Stone Roses would have danced with United fans. That is, something impossible. And that's why, so exciting.
Concert Oasis Cardiff – tribute to Diogo Jota / PHOTO: Facebook
Hate has no chance of victory
Jota was not a global legend, but she was a respected man. A decent player who was silent and worked. Maybe that's why his loss hit more, because it was real, accessible, human.
And in the face of that loss, even Liam was silent. Left hatred at the gate. He gave up the mask, jokes, all the rivalry.
It was a time when football and music stopped at the same time. Not for the show, but for a real emotion. No PR, without hashtags, without branding. “Maybe i just Wanna Fly”, the verse I sang a thousand times, was no longer about dreaming, but about an escape from hatred. From the clogging. From the tribe.
Liam, the microphone hooligan, was for a few seconds an empty man in front of death. It was gentle. Was silent. It was, maybe, honestly. And if even Liam Gallagher can drop the sword for a few seconds … then we can. Rivalry remains. But hatred should not defeat.
