KNEBWORTH 96 – A MANUAL TO OASIS

Laurence Hepworth

‘Indifferent’ is not something this album will leave you. Take a generational band at their zenith; add 250,000 fans over two nights; and fold in a few lines of powder: what you get is, well, intense. 

This is Oasis at their most Oasis-y. And so this live album, recorded over the 10-11 August 1996 at Knebworth House, is unlikely to convert those already unconvinced by either this Manchester outfit’s sound or their antics (or probably both). It is also not an easy nor perhaps advisable ‘way in’ for uninitiated listeners. But for those with a little existing appreciation for Oasis, this is the band not far from their best. 

You get an idea of what you’re in for rather quickly: Liam, greeting the crowd, screams, “Knebworth, mad fer it, yeah?” The first few songs are a nice appetiser, as the band, as well as the audience, find their groove. ‘Supersonic’, at track 3, is the first of the hits: it goes down well, helped along by Noel’s goading those at the back of the venue to get “off your arse!’ Such jibes at the crowd, as well as the banter between the brothers and the God-only-knows blurted machinations of Liam’s drugged-up mind, are elements that come to define the album. Oasis’ studio efforts, being devoid of the suchlike, can seem in comparison almost bland in places.

But it’s not until the bruising trio of ‘Some Might Say’, ‘Roll With It’, and ‘Slide Away’, with confidence and energy (and feedback) coursing through them in equal unfettered measure, that the album starts to gather momentum.

At least to this listener, Liam’s voice is the strongest element in this live album. Whilst some criticise it as being too nasal, this strikingly perverse manner of singing is what ultimately made Oasis what it was. To hear it taken to the limit here works for me.  These vocals take on several shades as the album progresses, slewing from the clipped buzz of a bone saw in ‘Columbia’ to a guttural, gravelly snarl in ‘Supersonic’ to the shriek of an ensnared animal at the conclusion of ‘Live Forever’. 

As Side 2 of the twenty-song album begins, there’s a semblance of a let-up, led by the more reflective ‘Whatever’, complete with an added harmonica intro, and ‘Cast No Shadow’. At the end of most of the tracks on the album, the band expresses some form of gratitude to the crowd. This ranges from an understated “Cheers!” – vaguely reminiscent of Arctic Monkeys’ Alex Turner’s recent crooning Glastonbury performance – to something approaching heartfelt from Noel: a “Thank you very much,” at the end of ‘The Masterplan’, where you get the feeling that what he has accomplished might just be perceptible.  

The Mancs’ biggest hits arrive next, but as Noel tries to dedicate ‘Wonderwall’ to the women in attendance, Liam cuts across him: “This one’s for, like, anyone.” “Calm fucking down,” he then teases the crowd who roar their approval to the opening chords, with Noel in turn mimicking him with a voice several octaves higher. This sort of playground chiding -  that would feel more appropriate around the supper table - serves as a reminder of the relative greenness of the brothers to celebrity; these concerts came less than two years after the band’s debut album, Definitely Maybe. Ironically, it’s the biggest songs – ‘Wonderwall’ and ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ – that feel the flattest in this album. They don’t find an extra gear over their studio counterparts in the same way that something like ‘Morning Glory’ does. It is perhaps their popularity that is to blame here: one can’t expect the stuff that’s commercially successful and sounds nice on the radio to be so easily transposed into supersonic walls of sound in a festival setting.

From here, we tear through the back half of the set. In ‘My Big Mouth’, the strain exerted on Liam’s voice by his unique delivery is palpable, as, indeed, it is when one examines the album cover itself. Hearing this, it’s hard to be too surprised by Liam’s voice now being but a pale imitation of what it was here.

The band ‘close’ the set with ‘Live Forever’. It’s a standout, each chorus a desperate, ragged entreaty. Having left the stage, the “Oasis!” chants barely have time to form up before the group return and slide into ‘Champagne Supernova’. Drummer Alan White has a rare opportunity to shine through here: he winds the track down with the delicious poise of a curler guiding his stone into place. A second and final encore comes in the form of the Beatles’ ‘I Am The Walrus’, which is perhaps a fitting tribute to a band that lent so much inspiration to Oasis. Lennon-McCartney psychedelics coupled with Liam’s delivery is a fierce combination, although when contrasted so unsparingly with so many Noel-written songs, it's hard to fight off the feeling that Liverpool turns out keener lyricists than Manchester. Not that the crowd seems to mind.

And so ends Knebworth 96: a thick, thumping album bristling with all the elements that put Oasis on the map. For those able to appreciate it, there’s a lot to enjoy. The 20-song record is a strong choice if ever you need to generate some Gallagher swagger as you go about your business.