The Global Outrage of an Educated Man: Vol. 164: Play it at My Funeral Pyre

     The lapping waves from a distant island come in, one after the other. The soft strings of apprehension are plucked from your consciousness as one slowly realizes that this definitely maybe the "Stairway to Heaven" for a new generation. From the ringing static in the announcement of the opening chords, there was a sense of endless possibilities; there were no limits....the Internet was blossoming before our very eyes and fingertips. Before there was Google, Twitter and Facebook. Before there was Pinterest, YouTube and Craigslist there was Oasis. Before there was Oklahoma City, Bosnia, Waco, Columbine, 9/11, Iraq part II, Afghanistan, George W and Barack Obama; before the global economic collapse and capture of Bin-Laden, there was wonder and hope. Before the I-pod and I-pad and before the suffocation of cellular phones, there was the simple choice to disconnect for a little under 8 minutes without having to spend hundreds of dollars.
     The song posed the immediate question during the mid 90's; it bluntly asked of you, no pun intended, whether or not you knew or even cared to know,"How many special people change,
How many lives are living strange, Where were you when we were getting high?" In an era surrounded by thoughtless groups with lyrics about loads of money and expensive foreign cars with bimbos plastered on the hood; the song wanted to crawl inside the inner recesses of spaced out minds for total contemplation in the absence of obnoxious noise of bass serenading suburban streets. Adults too old to relate made no sense of the question or either were just thankful there wasn't any swear words. One could understand all of the lyrics.
     Whether you loved them or hated them, you had to admit the song had a steady pulse all its own. It put a swagger in your step. You were at once brash, cocky and confident. The song was truthful in the realization that what it meant was the opening of new doors while it looked back without anger at the days of yesteryear; the song and its band members were giving much due respect to the Fab Four in the anthem of my generation. How many countless car rides in an aging blue 94' Plymouth Sundance were there? Who can forget a trip to Chicago in the silver bullet for a concert without Liam in the Rosemont Horizon, August 27th, 1996? How many nocturnal adventures were there at 910 University Ave in Northeast Minneapolis the fall and winter of 1996?  The place where vanilla candles slowly burned down into dripping wax deposited into empty Premium beer bottles as sandalwood incense lingered.
     Throughout it all, the many girlfriends, the many breakups, the many changes of colleges and on to Liam's nasal whine, Noel's screeching guitars layered over the steady drumbeat of Alan's rhythm; all of it layered over each other to produce what no other band has been able to capture since. The band smashed all preconceived notions of how a lead singer should act, how he should stand before the microphone; instead, they chose to let the music speak for them when they weren't fighting with each other; brothers will be brothers, especially when you're from Manchester. Despite it all, one came to learn, that if you climbed high enough up the twisting spiralling stairway to heaven, in the end, you just may have found yourself in a Champagne Supernova. Cheers. Oasis! Oasis! Oasis!