next song

SANTA BARBARA — “In this next song,” said Paul McCartney, “we’d like you to sing along.”

Oh, this was the one?

By an hour or so into his concert Friday night at the Santa Barbara Bowl — basically somebody’s backyard by the standards of the former Beatle — McCartney had already gotten the capacity crowd to join in on a bunch of all-timers including “I’ve Just Seen a Face,” “Love Me Do,” “Jet,” “Getting Better,” “Lady Madonna,” “Let Me Roll It” and “Got to Get You Into My Life.”

But for Sir Paul, even (or especially) at age 83, there’s always a way to take an audience higher.

So as his keyboard player plunked out the song’s lovably lopsided lick, McCartney and his band cranked through a fast and jumpy rendition of “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” that left nobody any choice but to hop up and holler about the sweet certainty of life’s going on.

Paul McCartney and his band.

(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)

A sellout pretty much as soon as it was announced, Friday’s show was a kind of warm-up gig ahead of the launch next week of the latest leg of McCartney’s Got Back world tour, which began criss-crossing the globe in 2022 and will resume Monday night in Palm Desert after a nine-month break.

On the road he’s playing arenas and stadiums, but this hillside amphitheater seats only 4,500 or so; to make the evening even more intimate, fans had to lock their phones in little pouches on the way into the venue. (The presence of several cameras swooping around on cranes suggested that McCartney was filming the concert for some unstated purpose.)

“That’s our wardrobe change of the evening,” he said at one point after taking off his jacket, and indeed this was a slightly trimmed-down version of the flashy multimedia production that he brought to SoFi Stadium three years ago. That night in 2022, he played three dozen tunes over two and a half hours; on Friday he did a dozen fewer — no “Maybe I’m Amazed,” no “Band on the Run” — in about an hour and 45 minutes.

The advantage of the smallness, of course, was that you could really hear what McCartney and his longtime backup band were doing up there: the folky campfire vocal harmonies in “I’ve Just Seen a Face,” the propulsive groove driving “Get Back,” the barely organized chaos of a downright raunchy “Helter Skelter.”

Then again, that assumes that tracking those details is why anybody turned up in Santa Barbara.

Though he dropped an album of new solo songs in 2020, McCartney has been pretty deep in nostalgia mode since the 2021 release of Peter Jackson’s widely adored “Get Back” docuseries. He’ll tend the machine this fall with a new book about his years with Wings and an expanded edition of the Beatles’ mid-’90s “Anthology” series; next year, a documentary about the Wings era is due from director Morgan Neville; in 2028, director Sam Mendes will unveil the four separate biopics he’s making about each Beatle, with Paul Mescal in the role of McCartney.

Paul McCartney takes the stage.

(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)

All that looking back can make it hard for even a devoted fan to take in the legend standing before them in the flesh; instead of overwriting memories with fresh information, the mind steeped in myth can train itself to do the opposite (especially when the owner of that mind has shelled out hundreds of bucks for a concert ticket).

Yet you have to hand it to McCartney, whose face bore a dusting of silvery stubble on Friday: As predetermined as this audience was to have a good time, he was tapped into the energy of a musician making minute-to-minute decisions.

He opened the show with a zesty take on the Beatles’ “Help!,” which experts on the internet say he hadn’t played in concert since 1990, then followed it up with one of his quirkiest solo tunes in the disco-punk “Coming Up,” which he juiced with a bit of Henry Mancini’s “Peter Gunn” theme.

After a flirty “Love Me Do,” he asked the women in the crowd to “gimme a Beatles scream,” then nodded approvingly at the sound. “Imagine trying to play through that,” he added.

“Jet” had a nasty swagger and “I’ve Got a Feeling” a sexy strut; “Live and Let Die,” meanwhile, was just as trashy as you’d hope.

McCartney told moving if familiar stories about meeting Jimi Hendrix and about his mother coming to him in the dream that inspired “Let It Be”; he also told one I’d never heard about screwing up a performance of “Blackbird” — “Lot of changes,” he said of the song’s complicated guitar part — in front of Meryl Streep. Because his wife Nancy was in the house, he said, he played “My Valentine,” a weepy piano ballad anyone but Nancy probably would’ve gladly exchanged for “Junior’s Farm” or “Drive My Car.”

But then what was that choice if not a commitment to the circumstances of the moment?

Paul McCartney arrives at the Santa Barbara Bowl.

(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)

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).

Oasis performs Saturday night at the Rose Bowl.

(Kevin Winter / Getty Images)

Yet I’m not sure I’d have called that it would be an old rock group with three guitarists that would get it done, never mind this old rock group in particular: The first of two dates at the Rose Bowl, 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 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 hasn’t yet been 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, Metallica’s James Hetfield, Laufey and MGK — 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.

Liam Gallagher, left, and Noel Gallagher at the Rose Bowl.

(Kevin Winter / Getty Images)

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.