Oasis was never big in America.

The United States went straight from the grimy teen spirit that Nirvana imbued to Britney Spears’ bubblegum-popping high school hallways, conveniently ignoring the drug-fueled headiness of ’90s Britpop.

Maybe that’s because the band botched its first American gig. To be fair, both band and crew were severely high on crystal meth. Absolutely shitfaced. One of the most seminal gigs in music history (the joys of sarcasm).

But then, Oasis has never been just about the music, as “Supersonic,” directed by Asif Kapadia (“Amy,”“Senna”), shows. The documentary tracks the journey Oasis took from their signing as mophead-sporting, soccer-loving nobodies at a concert in Glasgow’s King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut, to their two 1996 concerts at Knebworth Festival, where 250,000 people attended.

But that number pales into insignificance, considering 4 percent of the British population applied for tickets. That was one of the most influential gigs in all of music history. And Justin Bieber whines about high-pitched concert-going tweens.

The documentary itself is extraordinarily engrossing; its interviews are raw yet witty, its stories factual, yet nearly fantastical. As expected, Noel and Liam Gallagher reinforce their respective statuses as true comedic geniuses. It also features original band members, record producers and even the Gallaghers’ mother.

The music is, unsurprisingly, “fookin brilliant.” The opening note to “Rock N’ Roll Star” preaches hedonism, and “Wonderwall” is anthemic as usual. The opening riff of “Cigarettes and Alcohol” is near riotous while “Supersonic” finds a belting crowd at its loudest.

It’s what the documentary reminds the manufactured pop and Spotify obsessed 21st century of, however, that makes “Supersonic” shimmer in a light of undying morning glory.

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The Gallagher brothers were the band’s backbone, but their feuding also shattered that backbone. It’s been seven years since Oasis parted for good. It’s been 20 years since the band’s era-defining album, (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?, was released and became Britain’s highest selling album of the decade.

Soccer crowds in Argentina sing Oasis. Kanye West concert-goers sing Oasis. One Direction teenyboppers in Japan sing Oasis. “The music,” as Noel Gallagher so astutely remarks, “will remain timeless.”

Oasis, however, has always offered more than just music. Their don’t-give-a-damn rock star attitude continues to inspire generations of fans. No band or celebrity has the alluring rakishness to say or do anything remotely inflammatory today.

Beyoncé saying taking drugs was as common as having a cup of tea? Fall Out Boy brawling aboard an Amsterdam-bound ferry? Not likely. The last great protest to anything was Green Day’s generation-defining American Idiot (though their recent “work” is less American idiot than simply idiotic).

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Assume, for one moment, that Bieber’s peeing shenanigans were as unruly as throwing a television out of a window.

“Until you’ve actually thrown a television set out of a window, you don’t even know the sense of joy that that brings,” Noel said.

Will anyone remember “Baby” or “Love Yourself” as anything more than that song from that year? Oasis was and continues to be defined by music and attitude. Not one or the other, but both.

Oasis sang, snorted and brawled their way into existence and, subsequently, total fucking glory. To quote an Entertainment Focus review, “Supersonic” is, “a glorious ode to the band that defined a generation.”