The band’s hits have proved profoundly durable, which was especially clear during the closing three-song run of this 23-song set list, drawn heavily from its debut and its second album, the muscularly sweet (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? from 1995. First was Don’t Look Back in Anger, with its John Lennon-esque flickers, which erupted midway through into a weepy vocal bloodletting before resolving to a tender conclusion, with Noel visibly reeling with feeling as much as he’ll allow. Next came the unerringly beautiful Wonderwall, the band’s most indelible hit; when Noel chimed in, his vocals felt like pleas up against his brother’s sermon. Last was the Beatles homage Champagne Supernova, the least convincing of the three closers, but it still left a psychedelic haze in its wake.

Most of the night’s most forceful playing was in the show’s second half – a baleful Slide Away, a riveting Live Forever, a take on Whatever that showed off the brothers’ wound-you/heal-you dynamic well. Rock ‘n’ Roll Star, which concluded the main set, was a conflagration, stretched and bent into glorious shape.

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Before Oasis even took the stage, at least one fan was wheeled out on a stretcher, pumping his fist in the air. But only late in the show did true rowdiness set in. During Rock ‘n’ Roll Star, one fan set off a flare off to the side of the floor, sending a roar of flames and then smoke up into the air. A few songs later, during Don’t Look Back in Anger, another flare, this one almost at the centre of the stadium. The air afterward never lost its slight acridity.

Oasis burned hot and fast; it was a creature of the perpetual present, until it began living in the past. That’s how the 2000s went for the band, never recapturing the glories of its first albums. In 2009, the group split, seemingly for good. Both brothers went on to perform lesser music in lesser bands.

This reunion appears built for sturdiness. In addition to the Gallaghers, one original band member remains: guitarist Paul Arthurs, known as Bonehead. Rounding out this iteration are Gem Archer on guitar and Andy Bell on bass – both veterans of the band’s 2000s run – and Joey Waronker on drums.

The brothers didn’t speak much, but they took a few moments to poke fun at themselves via poking fun at the crowd. Before The Masterplan, Noel thanked all the fans in their 20s who’d never seen them live before but kept their music relevant. Earlier, Liam asked, “was it worth the 40,000 pounds you paid for the ticket?” – a reference to a pricing scandal.

And just before the end of the show, Liam came as close to mushy as he appears capable of: “Nice one for putting up with us over the years.”

Until this moment, apart from the two brothers raising arms in a lightly comic victory gesture at the top of the night, it was unclear whether Noel and Liam had exchanged one word, or even a glance, during the whole show. They were magnets with matching polarities, holding steady at a reasonable distance. Throughout the night, Bonehead had stood between them, a silent enforcer of order, performing invisible choreography of good sense.

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But with the show over, the seemingly unthinkable had been achieved. Liam took a deep bow, then tossed his tambourine into the crowd. He turned to leave the stage and gave Noel the briefest of bro embraces. The crowd roared as loudly as it had for any of the hits, probably louder.

At the beginning of the encore, a black Range Rover had pulled up and parked backstage, its nose pointed at the exit. While Noel and the rest of the band were still soaking it all in, and feedback from the guitars was wanly lingering, Liam meandered offstage, hopped into the SUV’s back seat, and was ferried out of the building.