By Caitlin Ward

Rock ’n’ Roll Star
By Oasis

I live my life in the city
There’s no easy way out
The day’s moving just too fast for me
I need some time in the sunshine
I’ve gotta slow it right down
The day’s moving just too fast for me
I live my life for the stars that shine
People say it’s just a waste of time
When they said I should feed my head
That to me was just a day in bed
I’ll take my car and drive real far
You’re not concerned about the way we are
In my mind my dreams are real
Now you’re concerned about the way I feel
CHORUS
Tonight, I’m a rock ‘n’ roll star
Tonight, I’m a rock ‘n’ roll star
You’re not down with who I am
Look at you now, you’re all in my hands
Tonight
CHORUS
It’s just rock ‘n’ roll (x8)

My sister said something very funny once. Well, she’s said more than one funny thing in her life, but this one is pertinent to my article. She said, “You know, if I hadn’t had such an idyllic childhood, I’m sure I would be famous by now.”

It reads like a nonsensical non-sequitur, I know. But at the time we were discussing the artistic temperament. To create art, and to be successful in creating art, often requires a will to succeed that supersedes, well . . . everything else in your life. The point my sister was making at the time is that when someone comes from a place where there’s nothing much to lose or leave behind, it’s easy to dedicate oneself wholeheartedly to the craft, whatever the craft may be. Furthermore, it’s much easier to have something to say when you didn’t have a lovely, normal, middle class upbringing. That’s not to say, of course, that people with lovely, normal, middle class upbringings are incapable of making good art. But it’s probably harder.

You see, I have a theory about music. Much like the theory of soul music I expounded upon several weeks ago, it’s unsubstantiated and probably unprovable. But my theory goes like this: most major musical movements come out of hideous places. Not necessarily physically ugly places, but places that are destitute and boring: places you don’t want to be. The blues arose from a disenfranchised people. Rock and roll emerged from poor blacks in the Deep South. Motown came from a Third World city that paradoxically rested in the First World. The British Invasion was mostly spawned by young men who didn’t want to spend the rest of their lives in hideous industrial towns. Punk and post-punk rose from the dole lines of London and Manchester. Rap and hip hop came from ghettos dotting the United States’ coastal cities. And Britpop — well, that one’s a little muddier. However, the most enduring and successful band that emerged from Britpop came from a poor suburb of Manchester: Oasis.

Nowadays, Oasis is known as that band that had those brothers who hate each other and did far too much cocaine before finally and quietly splitting up years past their sell-by date. Back in 1994, though, with the release of their debut Definitely Maybe, they were Going to Change the Face of British Music. I’m pretty sure they thought they were going to, as well.

Well, good for them. And perhaps they did. However, what’s significant about their debut album (in my opinion, the only truly great album they made) is that it’s peppered with musings about a life that, deep down, no one wants to have. Cigarettes and Alcohol is about resigning yourself to the idea that there’s nothing worth living for except drugs. Bring it on Down is about . . . the same thing, basically. Most of the songs that don’t explicitly say drugs are the only answer still reinforce the opinion that they are, as the lyrics give the distinct impression the singer is high. And Liam Gallagher very likely was.

But then, there are the other songs. Digsy’s Dinner and Live Forever and Rock ’n’ Roll Star: the songs that hint there’s something slightly better; the songs that find the bits of joy in this largely joyless life; the song that demonstrates why Oasis, despite the odds, forced its way out of a mundane and unhappy existence to become the biggest act in Britain.

Most critics, when they discuss Rock ’n’ Roll Star, point to the swaggering bravado of making that song the first track on a debut album: they’re declaring themselves rock stars when they’re barely out of the gate. In my mind, that’s a rather clumsy interpretation of the song. I wouldn’t try to argue that Oasis weren’t full of laddish pride: they’ve got plenty of songs to prove that. Rock ’n’ Roll Star, however, isn’t one of them.

Rather, Rock ’n’ Roll Star manages to combine the resigned desperation of songs like Cigarettes and Alcohol with the subtle hope of songs like Live Forever. It’s half a dream and half reality: the city is awful and everything moves too quickly, but at night, the singer is a rock ’n’ roll star.

The song doesn’t specify whether he’s actually in front of a band or not when he declares that fact. Literally, of course, Liam Gallagher is fronting a band, but the song’s lyrics create some ambivalence in its meaning for the narrator: “in my mind my dreams are real.” This narrator might dream of fronting a band, or he may actually be fronting a band.

Ultimately, it’s not particularly important whether he’s in front of a real band or not. Either way, tonight he’s a rock ’n’ roll star. The people who thought it was just a waste of time to try are in the palm of his hand. Everyone thinks he’s crazy for doing so, and maybe he is. But he’s aspiring to do something better than spend his life on cigarettes and alcohol. And really, if you listen to the rest of the album’s lyrics, you know he doesn’t have a heck of a lot to lose.

Ward is a freelance writer and aspiring documentary filmmaker based in Saskatoon. You can find her short bursts of insight and frustration at http://www.twitter.com/newsetofstrings