When 90,000 People Sing Together

The other night, my wife and I found ourselves in the middle of 90,000 people at the Rose Bowl. We were there for the Oasis reunion show. Yes, that Oasis—the Gallagher brothers, famous for anthems like Wonderwall and Don’t Look Back in Anger, and also famous for not speaking to each other for the last sixteen years.

It was one of those nights that felt surreal. The band sounded incredible, like they’d never missed a beat. Every chord, every lyric, every swagger-filled strut from Liam—it was Oasis in full force.

But here’s the thing: what stuck with me wasn’t just how good they played. It was how we played—90,000 strangers belting out the same songs, word for word, with joy and abandon.

There’s something about music that does that. Especially live music. All the talk of AI ruining music and the arts is a pipe dream. Humans crave connection and want to be in the same room together.

Music also bypasses all the categories and ways we divide on superficial matters. Nobody cared that night about politics, socioeconomic standing, or whether you were Gen X, Millennial, or Gen Z.

For a few hours, we were one big choir.

Music and Memory

When Oasis ripped into Wonderwall, I wasn’t just hearing a song—I was 16 again, riding in my first car with the windows down, my portable CD player set to anti-shock, convinced music could solve all of life’s problems.

Ironically, when I picked up the guitar in my teens, the first song I learned was Wonderwall.

That’s the crazy thing about songs: they don’t just play notes, they carry our stories. They become the soundtrack of our lives.

The Bible knew this long before Spotify. The Psalms are full of lines like:

“Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day,” (Psalm 96:1-2).

Singing was how God’s people remembered. It’s still how we remember. Music is a time machine, taking us back to where we were when those songs first hit us.

Music and Healing

I’ll never forget when my parents were going through a divorce in the mid-90s. It was a hard, confusing time. I didn’t have the words to explain the grief, the anger, or the sense of loss I felt.

But I had music. Bands like Oasis, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, and Smashing Pumpkins were on repeat in my headphones.

Those songs didn’t fix the pain, but they gave me a place to go. Those lyrics and music gave me a sense that I wasn’t alone in the world. In a strange way, I had hope I was going to make it through the grief.

Looking back, I think that’s part of the healing power of music—it gives our grief a soundtrack and our emotions a safe space to land. Music supplants reason and taps into the sub-rational and subconscious and emotional parts of our souls.

Music is God’s gift to the world.

It’s hard to imagine a world with no rhythm, songs, or beats. What a boring world. But we know God is a Creator and deals in diversity and beauty and would not allow for a music-less creation.

There’s this beautiful story in Scripture where young David plays the harp for King Saul:

“Whenever the spirit from God came on Saul, David would take up his lyre and play. Then relief would come to Saul.” (1 Samuel 16:23)

Music reached Saul in a way words couldn’t. It still works like that. Whether it’s a hymn at a funeral, a lullaby for a restless baby, or a stadium anthem, music heals in ways nothing else can.

For me, in those teenage years of family upheaval, it was Oasis and their Britpop anthems. I felt their angst. A search for meaning in a confusing world. From what I know, the brothers from the UK didn’t have an idyllic childhood. I could feel it in their songs. I related.

Music is personal. For someone else, it might be a worship song or a country ballad. But the effect is the same: music brings unexpected solace.

Music and Unity

Our world feels fractured most days. Scroll your newsfeed, and it’s more division than unity. But when Noel shouted, “So Sally can wait…” and the whole stadium sang the rest of the line.

We weren’t divided. We were united. Maybe only for a couple hours. But music has the power of unity amid our differences.

Paul said it this way:

“Sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” (Colossians 3:16)

Singing isn’t a solo project. The idea is we’d sing these songs together and over one another. Remembering what is true, good, and beautiful. Remembering we belong to one another.

Music also isn’t just about expression—it’s about connection. A way to express gratitude to God beyond ourselves and circumstances. We sing together to remind ourselves we belong to God.

That’s why church music feels so different when the entire congregation is singing. That’s why 90,000 Oasis fans felt like family, if only for a night.

Granted an Oasis concert wasn’t about lifting up the name of Jesus. But when 90,000 image-bearers get together, you could feel the longing for transcendence. Whether or not people know it, they’re made for more.

Music and Worship

I’ll say it again; the deepest reason music moves us is because God wired us for it.

Throughout the Bible, people sing. From Moses and Miriam belting out a song after crossing the Red Sea, to Paul and Silas singing in prison, to the vision of heaven in Revelation where every nation sings around the throne—music is the proper response to Almighty God.

C.S. Lewis once wrote:

“I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation.”

That’s why music feels so necessary. Praise completes our joy. Singing isn’t just a response to joy—it amplifies it. That’s why a stadium full of people singing their hearts out feels transcendent. That’s why Sunday morning worship can lift a weary soul.

Singing doesn’t happen because life is easy. We sing because God is worthy. We sing because joy needs a melody.

Exodus 15:2 is the reason we sing:

“The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation.”

We Need Music

Walking out of the Rose Bowl, my ears were ringing and my voice was shot. My wife and I held hands, reflecting on a magical evening.

But my heart was full. The night reminded me that music is one of God’s best gifts.

We use it to remember. This aids in our healing. It helps us unite. And ultimately, it helps us worship.

If 90,000 people can come together for a rock band, imagine the power when God’s people come together with gratitude and hope on their lips. That’s a song worth singing—not just for a night, but forever.

So keep singing.

In your car, in your kitchen, and on the church pew. Whether it’s an old Oasis anthem or a hymn of praise, sing.

Music has a way of tuning our hearts to joy.

-Ryan