When photographer Jon Shard first turned up to a frosty pavement in Manchester in early 1996, he wasn’t thinking much into the future of his fledgling career.
It was his first commission for the NME. A chance to prove himself on one of Britain’s most influential music platforms. The assignment? Document the crowds queuing overnight for tickets to see Oasis at Maine Road.
No biggie, then.
What he didn’t know then was that the photos he captured, of teenagers zipped up in parkas, huddled in sleeping bags, passing the time with songs, cigarettes, and shared anticipation, would later become a time capsule of an era.
A window into a pre-digital world where music was a full on experience. And every second of that experience had to be earned.
This summer, as Oasis prepare to come home to Manchester once more, John’s long-forgotten rolls of film are getting their due in Oasis Fans: 1994–1997, a new exhibition at Kimpton Clocktower Hotel’s The Refuge.
Presented in collaboration with the British Culture Archive, the show reframes the band’s legacy through the eyes of those who lived it.
Oasis Fans: 1994–1997 at the Kimpton Hotel
“There was no sense of history at the time,” John admitted. “I was focused on getting the job done, doing it justice. It felt exciting, of course, this was my first piece for NME, but I didn’t think these photos would go on to mean anything to anyone beyond the week they were published.”
And yet here we are, nearly three decades later, pouring over his contact sheets like sacred texts. The magic lies not just in the nostalgia but in the realness, the unmistakable swagger of youth with nowhere else to be but right here, together, in the cold waiting to see their heroes.
“The fans were the heartbeat of Oasis,” John said. “It wasn’t about glitz. It was about being part of something. That energy, that unity: I wanted to document what it felt like to be there. To show the lengths people went to for a gig that meant everything.”
Life before the apps
In an age where tour announcements sell out in seconds thanks to bots and brutal algorithms, John’s images offer a stark contrast: the ritual of queuing as a communal rite of passage. No QR codes. No presale links. Just your mates, a flask of tea, and the hoping you’d get a golden ticket before they ran out.
“Back then, you earned your place,” he said. “It felt real. Now it’s transactional. You click, you buy, and it’s over. There’s no atmosphere. No buildup. But queuing? That was an experience in itself.”
John isn’t reminiscing for nostalgia’s sake. His work invites a deeper reflection on how we engage with music culture today, often filtered through screens, posted before it’s even processed. With this exhibition, he’s pulling audiences back into the moment, urging them to slow down and take it in.
“There’s something special about seeing an image printed, in a physical space,” he said. “It takes people out of their phones. Makes them look. Makes them feel. You can connect with the story behind the photo in a way that scrolling just doesn’t allow.”
Looking through the archives
Revisiting the archive was more than a trip down memory lane for John. It was a process of rediscovery. Working closely with Paul Wright from the British Culture Archive, he went back through his old contact sheets, selecting images not just for their composition, but for what they captured about the time.
“I picked out shots that showed the whole experience: the community, the fashion,” he said. “Some of the details I didn’t think much of at the time have taken on new meaning. What people were wearing, how they stood together, even the types of bags or posters they were holding.
“It tells you something about who they were.”
For an artist who’s photographed everything from international athletes to global advertising campaigns, this was a rare opportunity to revisit the purity of his early work – when the stakes were high, but the moments were maybe simpler.
“I wasn’t thinking about legacy or exhibitions. I just wanted to capture something true. Now, looking back, I realise how much more was in those frames.”
Capturing the Oasis zeitgeist
Partnering with the British Culture Archive was a natural fit. The Manchester-based not-for-profit is dedicated to spotlighting everyday life in Britain through photography, especially the working-class experience that so often gets overlooked or sanitised.
“I’ve always admired their ethos,” said John. “They show the culture that gets left out of the glossy magazines – the real stuff. And my photos fit right into that. This wasn’t backstage glamour. It was the street. The pavement. The fans. The heart of it.”
For many Mancunians, that heart has shifted over time. The city that birthed bands like Oasis has been reshaped by gentrification, investment, and seemingly relentless redevelopment. But has that spirit been lost?
“It’s not as visible,” John said. “But it’s definitely still there. People still care about music, still form scenes, still gather in small venues and backrooms and record stores. It just looks different now.”
What were Oasis fans like back in the 90s?
Having spent years documenting rave culture, warehouse parties, and musical subcultures across the UK, John said the Oasis era stood out for its deeply personal connection to place.
“With rave culture, there was a sense of escape, of losing yourself. But Oasis? That was tribal. That was a real identity,” he said.
“It was about being from somewhere. Belonging to something.”
That connection was especially intense in Manchester, where Oasis were our band. Their rise was a collective victory, a moment when the city’s voice echoed across the world and made space for stories rooted in council estates, chip shops, and record shops on Oxford Road.
Telling a bigger story about Oasis
So, what should visitors expect when they walk into Oasis Fans: 1994–1997? Hopefully, it’s the whole story.
“If someone walks in who’s never even heard an Oasis song, I’d want the photos to still mean something,” he said. “To show that this was a shared moment in time. It wasn’t just about the band. It was about the people. The friendships. The effort. The belonging.”
The exhibition also includes a “Fan Wonderwall”, a montage of fan-submitted photographs and vintage gig footage, giving audiences a more communal lens through which to experience the period. It’s not about mythologising the band; it’s about honouring the people who made the myth possible.
And if he could go back and shoot just one more frame?
“I’d take a wide shot at dawn,” he said. “Fans just waking up. That bleary-eyed moment where it’s still freezing, but you know you’re getting closer. And I’d pay a lot more attention to the fashion this time.”
Because, as anyone from Manchester knows, we’re a very fashionable bunch.
You can find out more about the Oasis Fans: 1994–1997 exhibition at the Kimpton Hotel by clicking here
