The Year We Worked at Knebworth for Oasis in 1996
Before online shops, algorithms, tracking numbers and eBay listings, there was mud, motors, music, mad crowds and a field full of people.
In August 1996, we worked at Knebworth for the massive Oasis concert weekend. We arrived the day before, with Zak, Lucy and Jackie, ready to set up our stall and graft through one of the biggest music weekends of the 90s.
At the time, we were ravers. Oasis were not really our thing. We were more dance music, late nights, big energy and festival trading. But after that weekend, and after meeting the crowd, we understood it. We became fans.
Building the Stall
We had booked a stall for the event and decided we needed something that would stand out.
So we built a 16ft white triangle with a big blue “E” on the top and a serving hatch underneath.
Great idea.
Only problem was, it did not fit in the van.
That meant strapping the whole thing to the roof and setting off with this huge white triangle on top, hoping for the best. Looking back, it was exactly the sort of thing you did in the 90s without overthinking it too much.
The first photo shows the setup at Knebworth. You can see the big white triangle, the blue E, the serving hatch, the van, the field, and that proper 90s festival trading atmosphere. It was colourful, rough around the edges, and full of characters.
What We Were Selling
We were selling Herbal Ecstacy and poppers.
Yes — it was the 90s.
That was part of the scene at the time. Festival trading was very different then. It was all a bit more chaotic, a bit more free, and a lot less polished than things are now. You would travel to events, build a stall, sell what was popular with the crowd, sleep badly, work all day and night, then somehow get back in time to open the shop.
It was not glamorous, but it was exciting.
The Oasis Crowd
We could see and hear Oasis from where we were working, but there was no chance of getting anywhere near the stage.
The crowd was absolutely nuts.
Everyone seemed completely off their boxes, marching about, singing, laughing, shouting and making the most of it. At first, we did not really get the whole Oasis thing. We were ravers, not indie kids. But the atmosphere changed that.
There was something about the crowd that weekend. The size of it, the noise, the energy, the way everyone was there for the same reason. Even if you did not arrive as an Oasis fan, it was hard not to leave as one.
By the end of the weekend, we understood why people loved them.
Did We Make Money?
Yes, we made money.
It was one of those weekends where the hard work paid off. A big crowd, a busy stall, and a full-on event meant there was plenty of trading to be done.
But making money was only part of it. These events were also about experience. You learned how to sell, how to talk to people, how to spot what customers wanted, how to set up quickly, how to survive on very little sleep, and how to deal with whatever the weekend threw at you.
Those lessons stayed with us.
Trying to Leave Knebworth
Getting out of Knebworth was another story.
After the concert, the traffic was unbelievable. We got stuck in the car park trying to get off site, with everyone else trying to do the same thing at the same time.
We had to drive back overnight because the shop needed to open the next day. There was no “take a day off and recover”. You worked the event, packed down, drove home, and opened up again.
At one point, two police officers asked us for a lift home.
There were already four of us in a three-seater van.
Somehow, we squeezed them in.
One copper ended up with her bum on the dash while I was changing gear. They could see into the back of the van, and let’s just say it was not long after a smoke had been smoked.
Again — it was the 90s.
We dropped them off at the local police station and then got back on the motorway with a huge sigh of relief.
Looking Back
That Knebworth weekend summed up a certain time perfectly.
It was messy, funny, chaotic, risky, exhausting and brilliant. It was before smartphones, before social media, before everything had to be photographed, branded and risk assessed. You had to be there, and luckily, we were.
We arrived as ravers working a stall.
We left knackered, relieved, a bit richer, and with a new respect for Oasis and their fans.
That weekend was not just about selling. It was part of the journey. The same eye for pop culture, music, collectibles, oddities and nostalgia that still runs through The Legendary Willy Banjo Shop today was alive and kicking back then — strapped to the roof of a van, parked in a field, under a 16ft white triangle at Knebworth.
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