LOS ANGELES — Noel Gallagher scanned the audience at the Rose Bowl on Saturday night and pointed down at a fan in the front row. "Young lady, what's your name?" he asked, tilting his head to try to catch the answer. "I can't really hear you, but this next song is for you." As he spoke, a camera found a woman wearing an Oasis T-shirt openly weeping — openly sobbing — and sent her image to the ...

Gem Archer, Andy Bell, Joey Waronker, Liam Gallagher, Paul Arthurs and Noel Gallagher of Oasis perform onstage during the Oasis Live' 25 World Tour at Rose Bowl Stadium on Sept. 06, 2025, in Pasadena, California.

Kevin Winter/Getty Images North America/TNS

LOS ANGELES — Noel Gallagher scanned the audience at the Rose Bowl on Saturday night and pointed down at a fan in the front row.

"Young lady, what's your name?" he asked, tilting his head to try to catch the answer. "I can't really hear you, but this next song is for you."

As he spoke, a camera found a woman wearing an Oasis T-shirt openly weeping — openly sobbing — and sent her image to the giant video screens flanking the stage. "She's been in tears all night, this girl," Gallagher added, "which I hope is not a review of the f— gig."

Not far from it, in fact: Since launching its reunion tour in early July, Oasis — the swaggering British rock band formed in the early 1990s by Gallagher on guitar and his younger brother Liam on lead vocals — has been traveling the world inspiring great outpourings of emotion wherever it goes. On social media, memes have proliferated equating the catharsis to be had at an Oasis concert to a form of therapy; more than one observer has suggested that gathering with tens of thousands of people to sing along with the Gallaghers' songs might turn out to be the cure for the male loneliness epidemic.

Along with the blockbuster ticket sales and the pop-up merch stores, this nightly purification ritual has positioned Oasis Live '25 — the band's first run of shows in more than a decade and a half — as this year's version of Taylor Swift's Eras tour. Which of course some tour was destined to be: At a moment of encroaching technological alienation, humans are naturally searching out opportunities for real-world connection (which is one reason why thousands paid money last month to sit in a movie theater and watch Netflix's "KPop Demon Hunters" for the second — or fifth, or 12th — time with other humans).

Yet I'm not sure I'd have predicted that an old rock group with three guitarists would get it done, never mind this old rock group in particular: The first of two dates at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, Saturday's sold-out show came 31 years after Oasis almost broke up for the first time following a chaotic 1994 gig at the Whisky a Go Go where the famously combative Gallaghers — having mistaken crystal meth for cocaine, as the story goes — nearly came to blows; Oasis' long-promised breakup finally took place in 2009, after which the brothers spent years trading savage insults in the press (and anywhere else they could do it).

How exactly Noel, now 58, and Liam, 52, managed to come back together has yet to be told; one suspects that sufficiently humongous bags of cash had something to do with it. On the road, the Gallaghers are accompanied by Oasis' original guitarist, Paul Arthurs (known delightfully as Bonehead), along with Gem Archer on guitar, Andy Bell on bass, Joey Waronker on drums and Christian Madden on keyboards. At the Rose Bowl, celebrities in attendance included Paul McCartney, Leonardo DiCaprio, Billie Eilish, Laufey, MGK and Metallica's James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich — a varied list of names that tells you something about the broad appeal of classic Oasis songs like "Wonderwall," "Roll With It," "Some Might Say," "Champagne Supernova" and "Don't Look Back in Anger," the last of which was the tune Noel dedicated to the woman shedding tears of joy in the front row.

The songs indeed were the thing on Saturday. Oasis sounded great, with those three guitars snarling and shimmering over sturdy grooves that mapped a middle ground among punk, glam and late-Beatles balladry; Liam's voice was somehow both brawny and sweet as he reached for the high notes with a kind of taunting effortlessness. And the brothers engaged in a bit of lovable stage business, as when Liam — looking superb as always in his signature shades and anorak — balanced a tambourine on his head and offered gnomic shout-outs to Woody Woodpecker and to the sword swallowers in the audience.

But this was the least showy pop show I've seen in years. Oasis' comeback is as much about the crowd as it is about the band — as much about the people singing along with the music as it is about the people making it. Song after song took the imperative mood: "Acquiesce," "Bring It on Down," "Fade Away," "Stand by Me," "Cast No Shadow," "Slide Away" — each a command happily obeyed until the next one was issued forth, each abstract enough in its emotional specifics to satisfy whatever need it might meet. ("Someday you will find me / Caught beneath the landslide / In a Champagne supernova in the sky" still makes gloriously little sense.)

Because they'd done so much to bring the audience together, you couldn't help by the end of the concert to long for a glimpse of a little brotherly love between the Gallaghers. They obliged during the finale, Liam circling Noel then clapping him on the back as the last chords of "Champagne Supernova" rang out and fireworks filled the sky with smoky light. It wasn't much, and it was more than enough.