People (including myself) say that Oasis is a bunch of pompous, British pricks. Oasis (read: Liam and Noel) are widely regarded as the most arrogant musicians on the market. What I learned last night was that they think so highly of themselves because they are that good. If you are the best and you know you are the best, does that knowledge of your greatness make you any less great? I don’t have to love them as people or their egoistic antics; I do have to respect their music and the chops they have both individually and as a band. Their musicianship is airtight, their lyrics are poignant, and their melodies are timeless.
Ryan Adams is a musical, vocal, lyrical virtuoso. The Cardinals behind him are straight up musicians. For virtually their entire set, every member of the band was slouched over their instrument in a quasi-meditative state and all they were concerned about was listening. They didn’t care at all about the audience, their choreography, their presentation - they were up there to make music for themselves. It was a beautiful and refreshing sight to watch all of them entranced with what each other was playing. It gave those watching a feeling that we were voyeurs to a serene creation that was made only for the enjoyment of the creators.
The whole show, the two bands’ sets together, can best be understood through the metaphor of women. It was like being wooed by two beautiful women, equally physically attractive but each with a different presence in the room. Oasis was that girl at the bar that everyone’s eyes were on. They were the girl dancing on the bar in the heels and the silk blouse with no back and only half a front. They were hot and they new it. They knew you were watching as they flaunted it and they had you exactly where they wanted you. They strode across the bar with a wake of stares and dropped jaws, grabbing your lapel and pulling you close. Confident and forward, they took control and came on to you. RA & the Cardinals was another girl at the same bar - the understated girl wearing jeans and a t-shirt sitting alone at the dimly lit table in the corner. If you weren’t paying attention, you might not ever notice them. They flashed fleeting glances and coy smiles but would never think of crossing the room to approach you. Internal, subtle, and at times self-conscious, they drew you in - you couldn’t help but go over and ask their name.
