In news that will surely have Vladimir Putin and Volodymyr Zelenskyy flinging their arms around each other’s necks and belting out a half-pissed rendition of “Wonderwall”, Oasis are returning. Noel and Liam Gallagher are setting aside their grievances in the name of creating new and fresher grievances.

One could be too cynical about this. Millions of people have happy memories associated with Definitely Maybe and Don’t Look Back in Anger — and dozens of people have happy memories associated with Heathen Chemistry and Don’t Believe the Truth — so a blithe dismissal of the band would be spite masquerading as sophistication. If seeing the Gallaghers back together makes people happy then I’m glad for them.

But there’s something odd about our culture. Oasis are back. A new Bridget Jones film is on the way. Labour have achieved an overwhelming victory after years of Tory rule. Good news for Oasis, Bridget Jones and Keir Starmer fans, but one has to ask: will the nineties never die?

It’s not surprising that people feel nostalgic about the nineties — and not just because they were younger. It was a more confident and optimistic decade. The Berlin Wall had fallen. Technology was fresh and exciting. Tony Blair seemed like an earnest and effective leader.

Granted, monotonal summaries of a period are always misleading. It was also the decade of a recession and the Rwandan Genocide. But the relative confidence and optimism of the time was reflected in its music. Yes, there was Nirvana and OK Computer. But there were also the Gallaghers. 

“You and I are gonna live forever.” “Tonight, I’m a rock n’ roll star.” “Don’t look back in anger.” “We need each other, we believe in each other.” That these iconic lines were surrounded by so much lyrical nonsense made them more memorable. You didn’t need to think about these words. You just rode the vibes. People still sing “Don’t Look Back In Anger” as an vague symbol of unity after terrorist attacks.

Oasis weren’t just optimistic, they was aspirational. “You need to be yourself.” “You can have it all, but how much do you want it?” “I’ll take my car and drive real far.” “In my mind, my dreams are real.” The Gallaghers were working class kids made good, singing for a time where people believed in a better future.

Now? I think the only people who are optimistic about the future are arms dealers and people who manufacture sex robots. That’s not to be all doom and gloom. There might be a better future ahead of us (and there’s no point in moping about it either way). But amid war, inflation, violence and social discontent it’s hard to be optimistic.

Today, Keir Starmer spoke on “fixing the foundations” of Britain. “Change [will] not happen overnight,” he said, “When there’s a deep rot you can’t just cover it up.” True enough! I’m not going to criticise the Prime Minister for being realistic — or for blaming the Conservatives for such incompetence that Britain does not even have enough prison places. (When he spoke about “fourteen years of rot”, though, you had to ask yourself if he thought the decade of preemptive wars and grooming gangs that preceded them was a decade of glittering success.)

But what do Britons have to look forward to, and how are they going to get there?

You can’t blame him for talking about “how tough things will be”, or about how “things will get worse before they get better.” But what do Britons have to look forward to, and how are they going to get there? Er, there wasn’t much on that. Starmer waved his hand towards his “National Wealth Fund” — a gimmick Fred de Fossard has critiqued in these pages. But in general his strong words about “unpopular decisions” weren’t matched by optimism about long-term rewards. It was all toughness, with little aspiration. A fitting soundtrack would be a song that make OK Computer sound positively cheerful.

So, those songs about living forever and making dreams real might sound a bit hollow in 2025. Again, if “Wonderwall” is you and a loved one’s favourite song, God bless you. Belt it out and bask in transcendent emotion. Thank Heavens some things have value beyond their economic and societal context.

Yet some of the magic will have been lost — and not just (if at all) because the Gallaghers are pushing 60. It’s more difficult not to look back in anger if you’re looking forward with so much consternation.