Oasis! Oasis! Oasis! (chant loudly in Manc accent)

We are in the midst of Britpop fever.
Last night Rob, Loz and I saw Oasis at Festival Hall and we're all off to see them again tonight.
Are we mad? Hell no.
It's been a few years since Oasis were in Melbourne and we're making the most of those fabulous Gallagher boys while they're here.
The last time we saw them was at the Forum in 2002 - a superb gig because it was a rare opportunity to see a stadium band perform in an intimate (and arguably Melbourne's finest) live venue.
While the 2002 gig certainly boasted a better venue (and the amazing feeling of standing only metres from the band), last night's set was miles better and the band sounded (despite Festy Hall's notoriously shocking acoustics) in fine form.
It was stiflingly hot and the crowd was so incredibly mixed. We were surrounded by Fitzroy rock chicks, Chapel St pill-poppers, middle-aged Mums and Dads and, of course, a fair sprinkling of Triple M-listening, graffiti t-shirt wearing blokes who only knew Wonderwall.
While last night we braved the Festy Hall floor and it's beer splattered mess, tonight we are up in the balcony - undoubtedly the best seat in the house.
A lot of people rib us for loving Oasis. Although (despite what Noel thinks) they can't match U2, they are the only band I can think of (besides the Stones) that have two bona fide, swaggering, swearing, drinking, boasting rock stars. Who needs soppy Chris Martin or tryhard Pete Doherty when the Gallagher boys are the real deal?