Getting High (38 page)

Then they hopped into the cars and were driven out into the street where a police escort was quietly waiting. A few quickminded kids spotted the band and surrounded the car, banging on the roof as it sped off.

The incident left the group in hysterics. They had seen all this in Beatles' documentaries and now it was happening to them. Unreal.

On the way to the Point, the car passed two leather-clad bikers, standing by the pavement with their bikes. Noel immediately pushed open the car-roof, stood up and shouted ‘Sweaties!' at them. ‘That's what we used to call those bastards in Manchester,' he explained to Alan White, sitting back down.

At the Point, the band made straight for the stage. They ran through a few numbers, including ‘Free As A Bird' by The Beatles, and then Noel soundchecked his acoustic guitar. The first song he played was ‘Ticket To Ride'. But unlike The Beatles' recording, he played it as a ballad and it was achingly beautiful, Noel instantly locating the soul of Lennon's bitter-sweet lament.

Better was to come. Ireland have always held Oasis in great esteem. Every gig they had played there has been a staggering success, the crowds instantly relating to the Irish element of Noel's music.

‘If you look at Gaelic bands, and I'm not likening us to any of them,' Noel said in the dressing-room, ‘but if you look at the likes of U2, The Skids, Simple Minds, Stiff Little Fingers, The Undertones, they always had these rousing, fist-in-the-air choruses. And I suppose it's also because we have this rootsy, folk feel on some of the other songs which you get subconsciously from your childhood.'

Whatever it was, that night at the Point the Crowd was the wildest, the most committed, the most passionate the band had encountered in a long time. Given the reception Oasis receive at all their gigs, it was really saying something.

From the front row to the back, a distance of hundreds of feet, the response remained the same; absolutely phenomenal. The crowd stamped, cheered, threw themselves around, lit lighters during Noel's set and sang themselves hoarse.

Oasis played out of their skins, putting everything they had into their playing.

It was the kind of gig they had dreamed about when they were nobodies and scuffling around Manchester. Now it was theirs for the taking and they weren't going to let it pass.

Straight after this amazing concert, Noel and girlfriend Meg jumped into a car with a representative of Sony Ireland and were whisked away to the
Gay Byrne Show
, a live TV chatshow, the most popular programme in Ireland. Noel had agreed to make this appearance, mainly because it was one of Peggy's favourite shows and partly because it would sell him a shitload more albums.

On the way to the studio he was still visibly shaking from delight at the gig. ‘That crowd,' he said, shaking his head, ‘fucking unbelievable.'

By the time he walked on to the TV set to rapturous applause, he had somehow managed to compose himself, to make it look as if he had been out sightseeing all day and had now strolled in for a chat.

It was a gentle, innocuous interview. Noel, dressed in a green-patterned, button-down shirt and light brown army trousers, opened up with an acoustic version of ‘Wonderwall'. Then he spoke with Gay Byrne, who asked him about songwriting and pressure.

Noel answered with grace and humility, aware that this was one interview Peggy and her friends were bound to watch. There was no way he would embarrass her by getting out of order.

He told Byrne that the gig he had just played was one of the best he had ever been involved in and that the band were too busy working to take much note of the massive hysteria surrounding them.

‘In the eye of the hurricane is where it's calmest,' he said, unconsciously quoting George Harrison from The Beatles'
Anthology
on TV.

A member of the audience asked him how long it could last for and Noel told him he hated predicting the future.

‘Look at The Beatles,' he pointed out, ‘people used to ask them that and they'd say, ten months or whatever. But thirty years later they're still releasing records.'

With time running out, Noel picked up his guitar and then, just as he had done with ‘Ticket To Ride', he transformed ‘Live Forever', this time from a celebratory song into a reflective, at times mournful ballad.

The crowd listened in absolute silence and then burst into genuine applause. Noel shyly acknowledged them (it was after all a performance that any mum could be proud of), and then he was gone, back to the Point where the bar was still open and there might be a chance of getting some gear.

It seemed unlikely. Dublin was going through something of a drugs drought, and most people were settling on alcohol to do the trick. The band arrived back at the Westbury at about two in the morning.

The bar was next to the lobby but everyone sat out in the hotel's massive sitting-room. The atmosphere was calm, a kind of end-of-great-party vibe, until Noel happened to look over at a girl staring him out.

‘You okay?' he asked her.

‘I'm fine,' she said aggressively, ‘how the fuck are you?'

‘I'm great,' Noel warily said. Already, he had a sense of what was corning.

‘I bet you are,' she bitterly said. Noel caught the inflection in her tone.

‘What did you say?' he asked.

‘Do you care?' she replied.

‘Look,' Noel said, ‘have a drink, whatever, but don't get cheeky, okay?'

‘Oh,' she said, tossing her head back, ‘and what are you going to do about that? Have me thrown out?'

‘If I wanted to I could, so shut it.'

‘Oh, you could, could you? Well, kiss your mother's arse.'

‘Right.' Noel put down his drink and looked over for his security guards.

‘Terry, Kevin,' he shouted, motioning for them to come over.

‘You're joking, aren't you?' the girl said.

‘No, I'm not.'

Kevin arrived.

‘Throw this one out,' Noel said simply, not even bothering to look at her.

‘Oh for fuck's sake,' she shouted. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?'

At which point, Liam's ears pricked up. Three nights before in Cardiff, a similar incident had occurred. Liam had been sitting with Terry, Kevin and a fan. But the fan kept giving Liam lip, eventually flicking a cigarette at him. Liam stood up and walked away to another table.

Kevin and Terry had grabbed the guy and threw him out of the hotel. As they did so, Liam looked over and shouted, ‘Oi, don't fucking do that, he's only a kid.' He had been insulted but he was still on the guy's side.

Now he saw Noel throwing out what he thought was a fan and he came over to see what was happening.

‘What are you doing?' he demanded.

‘Throwing her out,' Noel lazily replied.

‘What the fuck for? What's she done?'

‘None of your business.'

‘Yeah it fucking is. You can't throw her out.'

‘Yes I can, I just have.'

‘You fucking dickhead.'

At this, Noel leapt to his feet.

‘Look you,' he shouted. ‘If I want to throw her out, I will and it's nothing to do with you, all right?'

‘No, it ain't fucking all right,' Liam shouted back. Instantly, the brothers quickly moved towards each other and now their faces were nearly touching. In that very moment, for Noel and Liam Gallagher, the world had just disappeared. All they knew, all they saw, all they heard was each other. It was of no use whatsoever to try and separate them because they wouldn't have even known that someone else was near them.

‘She insulted our mother, all right,' Noel shouted. At that, Liam immediately backed off.

‘Okay, okay,' he said, raising his arms in compliance. ‘Got you.'

‘You're the fucking best, Liam, okay,' Noel continued, real passion in his voice, ‘the best there is, but you don't mess in my business.'

‘Okay, okay,' said Liam, ‘sack it, fine.'

And he walked away. Noel sat back down but the party was over now, destroyed in a few explosive minutes.

The next day at the soundcheck, Noel revealed a new song. He shouted to Hugh, ‘Get this one down on tape otherwise I'll forget it and won't make any money, ha, ha, ha.'

Then he started slamming out a burning riff and some huge chords and after a minute or so, the rest of the band joined in. They jammed on it for over five minutes and Noel looked more than satisfied as he walked off-stage.

The band's mood was high. They knew what to expect from the crowd and couldn't wait to get back on-stage. It was all such a buzz. In the kitchen, Phil Smith, their old roadie and friend was waiting for them. He had travelled over from Manchester, where he shared a house with Mark Coyle, to see them.

The last time Noel had seen Phil was at their house. The three of them had sat in their sitting-room, playing easy-listening records while Phil and Noel made abusive comments to Mark about his support for Manchester United.

That day, Noel had been to a meeting with Francis Lee, the City chairman, at City's training ground. City wanted to print the name Oasis on their shirts the following season.

‘But tastefully,' Lee pointed out. ‘Woven into the fabric like.'

Noel made no commitment either way, just quietly listened and then told Lee and his representatives to call Marcus. It was obvious that he wasn't 100% sure about the idea. But he had met Francis Lee.

‘So you coming to the game against Coventry, lad?' Lee had asked him.

‘No way,' Noel replied, ‘every time I go to see City they lose. It's true. Once the players see me, they go, Oh shit, he's here, we've had it. Then they don't play well at all. I'll watch it on telly, me.'

Noel left the meeting and that night he went over to Phil and Mark's house. When he got there he told them that he had given their number to their all-time idol, Burt Bacharach, who was trying to get in touch with Noel about some future recording.

It was Mark and Phil who had put Noel on to Bacharach's music. They all adored him equally. Noel often said that his own music could never match the quality of Bacharach's. It pissed over most other people's, and when it came to the man who composed ‘This Guy's In Love With You', probably Noel's all-time favourite song, then forget it.

That night, every time the phone rang, the boys would momentarily freeze and then either Phil or Mark would calmly go and answer the phone. But it was never him.

Now, in Dublin, Phil was telling Noel, Burt had actually called a couple of days later. ‘So we've framed the phone,' Phil told him excitedly, ‘because that's the phone Burt Bacharach rang our house on.'

Jill Furmanovsky, Oasis's main photographer, was also present.

She had brought over pictures from their recent American tour and the band pored over them for at least half an hour. Noel rarely chose one of them smiling.

Later on, most of the band watched the Manics set from the side of the stage and then, five minutes before they were due on, they sat listening to a tape of the new song they had played at sound check.

‘That's fucking top,' Liam enthused.

‘I've got a great melody to go over it,' Noel said to no one in particular.

‘You should bring the drums in here,' Liam said.

‘Fucking hell,' Noel said, exasperated. ‘I haven't even written the song yet and he's telling me how to play it.'

Again, the gig was a huge celebration, a true meeting of band and audience in which everyone present lost themselves in the music and the occasion, only to come back to reality as ‘I Am The Walrus' faded from the speakers.

Backstage, Bono, singer with U2, came to greet the band and invite them back to his huge house. The band declined the offer, and sat exhausted in the dressing-room as people swirled all around them.

Eventually, Guigsy went over to U2's club with Ruth, Mouse from catering and a few others. Much to his annoyance, Hutchence was there and Guigsy sat there staring him out.

‘One move and I'll chin him,' he snarled. ‘He doesn't talk to my mate like that,' Guigsy said, referring to the incident with Liam the night before.

Someone from the club came over and invited Guigsy and his party to the closed-off section, and thus trouble was averted. At two in the morning Guigsy, Ruth, Maggie and Melissa walked back to the hotel.

Most people had gone to bed but in the sitting-room area Liam sat on a chair saying, ‘I'm going to have the cunt, I'm fucking going to have him. I don't care who he's with, I'll chin the cunt.' Terry and Bonehead sat by him, trying to calm him down.

‘No, Liam, leave it,' Terry said in his thick London accent. ‘Let him have his drink and just fucking ignore him.'

‘He's right,' said Bonehead, ‘ignore the cunt. That's what will get to him. He wants you to go over there and do something.'

‘Well, I fucking will,' Liam asserted.

The two women closest to Liam weren't at the hotel. Peggy was staying in another hotel with her sisters and Patsy was now in London. She had flown back that morning.

Meanwhile, Thomas Gallagher, allegedly paid by the
News Of The World
to book into the same hotel, sat in the same bar as his youngest son and looked over and waited.

‘What's he fucking doing here?' Liam demanded. And then he was up and away, making his way straight towards the father he hadn't seen in years.

Terry gave chase and just as Liam got to his dad's table, he swiftly blocked him off.

‘You fucking cunt, I'll break your legs,' Liam shouted trying to get round Terry.

‘You couldn't break Albert Tatlock's legs,' Thomas sneered.

‘You cunt, I'll have you.'

Liam went to punch him but every time he moved, Terry expertly moved with him. Liam threw his arms-up in disgust and walked away, back to his seat. He looked hurt, devastated.

Suddenly, Noel entered the room, walked past his father, and went straight to Liam.