Gig review: Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds at The Piece Hall, Halifax

“What’s that?” Noel Gallagher says to a disembodied voice at the front of the crowd midway through his show at The Piece Hall. “Liam’s touring?” He snorts. “Well, he should be grateful he still benefits from my genius.” A ripple of laughter unfurls across Halifax. “Are you going to see him?” he continues. “Just remember who wrote the songs.”

It would never be easier for Gallagher to cash in than now. For so long, he was the ex-Oasis superstar that carried on where they left off, while his sibling spent years glumly plugging away with Beady Eye. Now, the tables have turned – it is his brother who boasts greater success, aided by his wily allegiance with pop songwriters and the canny realisation that their old group, disbanded nearly as long as they actively functioned, remain a money-printing goldmine for the live circuit.

But while his brother tours Definitely Maybe, like a prized Sunday roast with all the trimmings, the singer-songwriter and his High Flying Birds diligently refute the lure of faux-reunion nostalgia with a studied career-spanning reminder of their frontman’s gifts. Two years on from his last visit to Calderdale, Gallagher works his way back in time with a reverse retrospective that ultimately takes impressive hold.

Material from 2023’s Council Skies may prove a slow start but You Know We Can’t Go Back, from 2015’s Chasing Yesterday, remains one of the most unapologetic rockers in his catalogue, while to In the Heat of the Moment mixes bombastic church-bell chimes to a hazy glam stomp. AKA… What a Life! meanwhile remains a fascinating peek into a world where Gallagher turned to four-on-the-floor club bangers, its insistent beat matched only by the frontman’s repetitive disdain for Yorkshire Day, which he frequently disparages.

The volume cranks up a notch when he transitions from an achingly terrific Dead in the Water into a second act of Oasis classics, primarily drawn from 1998’s b-sides compilation The Masterplan. It allows Gallagher to flex his muscle between the superb balladry of Talk Tonight and the baroque pomp of Whatever with affirmative brilliance.

When he encores stripped-back versions of Stand By Me and Live Forever, a hymnal hush breaks into full-throated communal singalongs. “Thank you very much,” he says, as Don’t Look Back in Anger hits a euphoric close, and the curtain drops for a moment, his edges laid bare in the twilight. It’s breathtaking stuff.