Cigarettes & Alcohol (Live from Manchester, 11 July ‘25) by Oasis

Some things feel impossible until the moment they happen. For well over a decade, an Oasis reunion has been the stuff of myth, a “what if” debated endlessly in pubs and online forums. But earlier this month, under the famously grey skies of their hometown, the impossible became a deafening reality. Oasis walked onto the stage at Heaton Park in Manchester, and for a few hours, the world felt right again.

The setlist was a masterclass in giving the people what they wanted. “Rock ‘n’ Roll Star” kicked things off with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, followed by a torrent of anthems that defined a generation. But the moment I want to talk about—the moment that truly solidified their return—came about halfway through the set.

Liam, swaggering in a way that only he can, stepped to the mic. “This one’s for anyone who’s ever needed a bit of sunshine,” he snarled, as a torrential downpour began. And then it hit.

Duhn-duh-duh-duhn… Duh-nuh-nuh…

The iconic, T-Rex-indebted riff of “Cigarettes & Alcohol” ripped through the park. It’s a sound so ingrained in the DNA of British rock that it feels elemental. But this wasn’t the 1994 recording. This was something else. This was our song of the day, live and ferocious in 2025.

What was different? Everything and nothing. The raw, youthful insolence of the Definitely Maybe version has matured into something more potent. Liam’s voice, once a pure Mancunian sneer, is now a weathered, formidable roar. The years haven’t diminished its power; they’ve added gravel, experience, and a profound sense of “I’m still here.” When he spat out the line, “You could wait for a lifetime to spend your days in the sunshine,” to 80,000 rain-soaked, ecstatic fans, it was less a complaint and more a declaration of communal defiance.

And Noel? Standing stage right, he played with a kind of masterful command that only comes with time. The solo wasn’t the chaotic spray of notes from his youth; it was a sharp, surgical, and unbelievably loud statement. Every bend of the string felt deliberate, a reminder of who wrote these songs that have become modern hymns. The rhythm section behind them was a locomotive, driving the song forward with a relentless, punishing groove.

The crowd’s reaction was primal. Flares of red and blue cut through the rain, illuminating a sea of faces—some in their 50s, some in their teens—all screaming the same words. This wasn’t just a band playing a hit; it was a cultural exorcism. All the years of waiting, all the tabloid headlines, all the back-and-forth… it all melted away in the face of that glorious noise.

“Cigarettes & Alcohol” has always been a song about wanting more while being stuck with what you’ve got. It’s a blue-collar anthem of escapism. Hearing it live in Manchester, performed by the very men who gave it life, wasn’t a trip down memory lane. It felt vital. It felt necessary. It felt like coming home.

Oasis is back. And if this performance is anything to go by, they’re not here for the nostalgia. They’re here to remind everyone who the kings are. Mad for it.