We stashed all available goodtime together and rolled it in a ball of cling film. This ball was then stuffed in a couple of plastic bags. I spotted a hoarding advertising some fizzy drink or other and decided it was as good a place as any to hide the drugs. Unlit and no pedestrian traffic. Heading over, I stashed it under the large wooden foot of the hoarding.
Nearly three hours later and we were finished. Maggie inspected the coach, which looked like new. After the all-clear, we approached the border control between the States and Canada and after another three hours, during which they dismantled musical equipment and rooted through my bag of underpants, we were let through. Must remember to let BigUn know his valeting training had been put to good use.
19 OCTOBER 1994. LEE’S PALACE, TORONTO
We checked into the Primrose, on Carlton Street in downtown Toronto. Facing the hotel is the Maple Leaf Gardens, and Guigs was heading that way to see if he could score any weed. It was only a day before we were back in America. I tried to tell him, but to no avail. His Mancunian arse disappeared into the park.
After a day spent in bed trying to catch up with the sleep I had lost over the previous fortnight, we headed off to Lee’s Palace on Bloor Street. The venue was in the heart of Chinatown and was quite large considering the bar and grills we had been playing in America. At least there wouldn’t be any plates of ribs passing my head as I played. It was our first Canadian appearance, which Liam was made fully aware of. In a diplomatic gesture to unite the countries of England and Canada, onstage Liam told the crowd that someone had better get their arse over to England and retrieve that pock-faced twat Bryan Adams. He was then all smiles as the crowd threw food and empty plastic beer pots at him.
After the gig we drove a mind-numbing 600 miles to Boston. We remembered to stop along the way and retrieve our stashed bag of goodtime. I couldn’t seem to get Guigs or Noel off my back. At every opportunity they were at me. I was beginning to think that something else was going on.
20 OCTOBER 1994. BOSTON
We arrived at the Days Inn at Soldier’s field in Boston. This was a day off, so me, Bonehead and Liam decided to head into the city to shop. When we returned, we hit the sack.
21 OCTOBER 1994. LOCAL 186, ALLSTON
We played Local 186 in Allston, then returned to the hotel in Boston. It was a good gig, but I could still feel the tension. That night, I decided to try to speak to Noel again. I knocked on his room and entered.
‘It’s getting a bit fuckin’ much,’ I told him.
‘Don’t take it personally,’ Noel replied.
‘It’s difficult not to take remarks such as “Yer a fuckin’ dick” personally,’ I countered.
‘They’re only getting you at it,’ he said, with a laugh.
22 OCTOBER 1994. THE MET CAFE, PROVIDENCE
It was a short 44-mile hop to Providence in the morning. We played the Met Cafe that evening on Providence Street and then drove through the night to Philadelphia.
23 OCTOBER 1994. PHILADELPHIA
Bonehead kept telling everyone that Tom Hanks was born in Philly. I thought he may have been a touch confused. I told him Tom Hanks had been in the film Philadelphia.
‘DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince are from here,’ piped up Liam. We all roared laughing and launched into the intro from The Fresh Prince. Liam had done his best to forget his days breakdancing outside Kwik Save in Burnage, but we were not about to let that happen.
Bonehead laughed, ‘Oh yeah I forgot about your hip hop connections’ and imitated a DJ scratching a record. As usual, Bonehead went a step too far. He attempted a windmill. This left him in agony and the surrounding area in turmoil.
30 OCTOBER 1994
We were lying in the hotel room, bugged out on the previous night’s mushrooms, when Liam looked at me. It was the kind of look that said ‘I’ve had enough.’ The cracks had started to appear. Liam would often struggle with the notion that he was an idol for others. In truth, he himself seemed to be on some sort of pilgrimage, which was most definitely a solitary trip. The fact that other people were more than happy to join in seemed to ruin it for him. It was almost as if success brought about a feeling of failure. It was a good time for a break and we all headed happily home to Manchester.
Naturally enough, we had a heavy night out as soon as we were home. We even dared to go out in Levenshulme, which was strictly against the rules. The next morning, we woke and made our way to a café on Stockport Road. It had been pretty intense the previous evening. Everywhere we’d gone there were people offering congratulations and having their photographs taken with us. These well-wishers would invariably want a private party, which was easily arranged by simply offering us drugs. Private audience in cubicle number three. It had got a bit messy and I hazily recollected a number of arguments and insults thrown. Mainly by Liam. The whole circus that surrounded the band had become almost non-stop. Because of the image that Oasis put over, it also meant that we had become fair game for a confrontation or two. I guess if you go round telling everyone how tough you are, someone will eventually challenge you. We were getting challenged on a daily basis, Liam in particular. I could see it was beginning to wear him down.
As we sat in the café, Liam had his head down, suffering from a hangover and also trying to keep a low profile. Suddenly there was a beat as one of the customers at an opposing table tapped the sugar holder with his spoon. He started to sing ‘Live Forever’.
‘Mebeee, a don’t rilly wanna know.’
He must have been fuckin’ 60. The rest of the café soon joined in and I looked at Liam. He pulled his hood over his head and curled further into the corner. The price you pay.
18 DECEMBER 1994. ‘WHATEVER’ RELEASED. REACHED NO.3 IN THE SINGLES CHARTS.
The little ditty that Tony Griffiths composed is running around my head. We had released the whole version of it that week. It was our fourth single and would surely cement us as the No.1 band in Britain. NME liked it:
You waited five fucking years to be disappointed by ‘Love Spreads’ and ‘Second Coming’ but you waited just over five months to fall head over heels in love with this record. I won’t pretend I was there at the beginning and was blinded by the brilliance of Oasis right away. It was probably at Glastonbury, the second time I saw them, that I thought fuck me, I better try and see this lot when I’m straight. Comparisons with the Roses are unnecessary, pointless and shouldn’t be allowed, but you can’t help yourself, really. OK, a band have their whole lives to make a debut album and normally about a year to make their second. If they are on an understanding label. And who knows? Maybe Oasis will be gone in a flash. Oasis shrewdly do not promise you the Earth as the Roses did. There’s none of this ‘We only want to play free gigs in underground car parks in Sarajevo for our fan club’ bullshit about Oasis. Sure, they’re arrogant bastards, but they are a better live band than the Roses were. Maybe the only way they couldn’t top the Roses is that they never had a song that soared. One that slipped the surly bonds of Earth and touched the face of God. Sure the songs were good, bloody good in fact, but they hadn’t quite written one that was great. That’s great with a capital G. As in ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’, ‘All the Young Dudes’ or ‘Alone Again’. Until now. ‘Whatever’ basically pisses over everything else. A song to die for with a descending scale and a fucking string section: from ‘Love Me Do’ to ‘All You Need is Love’ in under a year. The fact that it sounds like any number of other songs is a mark of the confidence that Oasis have in their song writing. Amateurs borrow, pros steal and look you straight in the eye, unashamed.
Definitions of great are hard to come up with. But there is one simple way to look at it. A great song is one that makes you feel better, happier, more optimistic. More comfortable about yourself and the world than you did before you listened to it that maybe there’s something more and greater than the mundane, excremental, day to day, slog. These are the songs for the days we’ll be nostalgic for in the next millennium.
Tommy Udo
&
nbsp; I guess Tommy Udo knew his shit. I guess Tony and Chris Griffiths did as well.
29 DECEMBER 1994. BRIGHTON CENTRE (EAST WING), BRIGHTON
We played to another rapturous full house. To spend every night in a room full of people simply screaming at you was fucking insane. I’d taken to screaming back until Noel told me to shut the fuck up. At the aftershow we were warned of Paula Yates’s arrival. There were lots of panic-faced people hurrying around with wide eyes mouthing ‘she’s here’. It started to make me nervous. We had already met Paula at the recording of The Word and right from the start she and Liam had hit it off.
Paula first encountered myself and Bonehead as we entered the party venue downstairs from the main stage. There was only one person who Paula wanted to talk to, though. ‘Where’s that gorgeous man?’ she asked scouring the bar.
I laughed at her confidence, and because I knew how Liam would react. Paula was Liam’s type of woman. ‘If you grab him in the right places he’ll be yours for the night,’ I replied. She giggled as only she could, grabbed my hand and Bonehead’s and marched us straight across the middle of the dance floor. We passed through the younger members of the EastEnders cast and straight to the bar. Liam was slouched there, looking paralytic. I laughed as Liam looked her deep in the eyes. She was one of ‘them famous birds off the box’, so was right up Liam’s street. He was also wired from 48 hours of continual and finding it hard to focus.
‘What’s yer name again, kid?’ he drawled. Liam had already met Paula, but was in no state to conjure up that memory.
‘How about we cause a scandal?’ suggested Paula Yates.
Liam laughed and he and Paula got to know each other all over again. He then gave me one of his wicked grins and ushered Paula outside behind the tour bus. Ian, our security man, turned up looking for Liam, who soon emerged from behind the bus wild eyed and delirious. The night continued as if nothing had ever happened but, hey, that’s why they call it rock ’n’ roll.’
28 JANUARY 1995. DV8, SEATTLE
Hey you, up in the sky. We were at 10,000 feet again, on our way back to Seattle to start another US tour. Spirits were high, though we’d been told there had been an amendment to the tour. We were to return to England a week or so later to attend the Brit Awards. Sounded good to me. Must have won something if they’re flying us back, I thought. We had been warned about our consumption on this tour, so it began with a 10-hour champagne-and-whisky session. Yankee Doodle Dandy.
We arrived and immediately boarded our tour bus and headed to Seattle’s DV8 club to soundcheck. All of us were a little bit nervous before the gig, as Liam had recently slated Kurt Cobain in the UK press and it had been picked up Stateside, causing some outrage. We waited on the bus as the crowds arrived. Before we were due on, I looked out at the full house under strobe lighting. It was a flickbook of writhing bodies and hysteria. As we marched on stage the lights came up and the whole place erupted in a deafening noise. We quickly assembled and I first looked at Noel, who gave me the nod, then a confirmation wink from Bonehead that he was ready, followed by another nod from Guigs. Liam stood out front, with his back to me. One arm on the mic stand, the other with fist clenched behind his back. He was already staring the crowd down. I banged the intro to ‘Rock ’n’ Roll Star’ and as Noel hit his first riff of the night the crowd turned the noise up even further. So much for a hostile crowd – that night went down as one of the best gigs we’d ever performed. Afterwards, we left the stage to be ushered by a mob of baseball-capped suits towards the customary meet-and-greet. As a band, we had decided that on this tour we would not be dragged into the endless rotation of these faceless corporate affairs. We weren’t meeting the fans; we were meeting the Director of Northern Territories for distribution and his wife or girlfriend. They would rattle on about margins and productivity and we would all nod. They weren’t there for the music; they were there as a display of their power and privilege. Fuck that. They should be thanking us for giving them the music, rather than the other way around. We had Robbo section off the room with advertising boards and we created a VIP area where the only VIPs were the band. Robbo stood guard as we hid.
It was straight back on the bus after the gig and on to Canada. There was no need to hoover before Vancouver any more. We’re all getting that little bit wiser when touring and the coach had been carefully maintained over the previous 24 hours. We arrived in Toronto to play at the Commodore Ballroom on Granville Street. After the show, we faced another room full of suits waiting to meet-and-greet. We schmoozed for 15 minutes or so and then decided to slip out a side exit into the Canadian night. We found ourselves in the heart of red-light Toronto. It felt good to be surrounded by a more honest and upfront set of people.
Later that evening, we headed back to the States. It had been a fantastic start to the tour and we were looking for a hat-trick in Portland.
30 JANUARY 1995. THE ROSELAND THEATRE, PORTLAND
The tension that had been growing on the coach was lost on stage and as I drummed I hoped things might be on the up again. It went downhill rapidly, though. Liam opened his mouth and released a sound that didn’t sound human. The timing wasn’t good. The tension rose in the room as the crowd realised it was not gonna happen. We were getting accustomed to tense crowds and now, under the military command of General Robertson, we were hurried onto the coach. It was not long before we were encircled by an angry mob intent on displaying their displeasure. We took it all in our stride and were already racking them out as we pulled away. No more ramming cars in a transit for us.
1 FEBRUARY 1995. THE FILLMORE, SAN FRANCISCO
We arrived in freakin’ fantastic Frisco, where we were set to play the Fillmore theatre. First, though, was a photo shoot with Jill Furmanovsky. With Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge as the perfect backdrop, we posed as the camera whirred and clicked away. After playing the Filly that night, once again the band played hide and seek with the meeters and greeters.
We were on a slow one, as we had to return to England the following day… for the Brit Awards, where we were up for Best Newcomer. We flew into Heathrow and were ferried to a nearby hotel. In each of our rooms we found a brown suit individually tailored. They looked kinda retro, with a definite Beatle thing going on.
Noel had recently met a new girl called Meg and she was waiting in the lobby of the hotel. With her was another girl, Kadamba. Liam had taken an instant shine to Kadamba, which was understandable. There was something alluring about her. They had become an item, although I thought that their fiery personalities would be too much.
‘Everywhere you go people just stop and stare at her,’ he had complained. He didn’t like the competition, I thought to myself. I watched as, before we set off for the Brits, Liam made his way up the marble corridor towards me. Between us lay four sets of large glass doors, which Liam threw open and then let swing shut violently behind him. Kadamba was running behind, finding it difficult to negotiate the wildly flapping doors.
As he reached me he exploded with, ‘Enough is enough and she’s more than enough.’
Then he was gone, to be then replaced by Kadamba, who skidded up the corridor and came to a halt in front of me. For some strange reason she was wearing a pair of studded football boots. A fashion statement. I guess that was Kadamba for you.
‘Hiya, Tony,’ she said and then screamed up the corridor after Liam, ‘If I’m not on your guest list just say so and I will ring Madonna.’ Liam didn’t even look around, just strode out the front doors of the hotel and into the waiting car.
We were soon at the Alexandra Palace, where the awards were to be held, and were met by Sonya and Debbie from the group Echobelly. Sonya and me had become quite close. Sonya had a serenity about her that was unusual in the coke-fuelled narcissistic business we worked in and I found her company enjoyable.
That night, we did indeed receive that Best Newcomer award, which was presented by Ray Davies of The Kinks and DJ Chris Evans. Afterwards, we went to a party at Nellee Hooper
’s house. Nellee was an almighty successful producer and his house gave an indication of just what could become available to those who were successful in the music industry. The drink flowed freely and we duly took advantage. I was winding my way through pockets of people with a nod and a smile when I came face to face with Björk.
‘Hellooo, wee Björk’ I drawled, chang’d out of my face and a little taken aback by her appearance. My mind whirring as fast as my jaw I said to her, ‘You look like a little Eskimo girl.’ My mind was a blank white canvas and even this lame line had been a struggle. She said nothing and quite wisely moved off, looking slightly confused. Not as confused as me. We grabbed a taxi and returned to the hotel.
The next morning, a very sorry-looking bunch of musicians boarded a flight back to the States.
6 MARCH 1995. PHILADELPHIA
We arrived in Philly and stayed at the Warwick on 17th and Locust Street. The brothers had a girl apiece in Meg and Kadamba. Bonehead had Kate and Guigs was still in with the air stewardess from the flight to Japan. My girl was Elle, who I had met before Christmas at Philly nightclub JC Dobbs. Unfortunately, instead of my drumming, my new girlfriend was now the subject of Noel’s new daily tirades.
‘She ain’t right man, she’s not one of us.’ Noel made this statement as Elle stood next to me. He was surrounded by a bunch of his ‘followers’. I was a bit put out.
‘Show me anybody right here and now in this room who is one of us,’ I retaliated.
Noel looked around, in hope of locating a Mancunian head. There wasn’t one. We had started with so many. I took Elle by the hand and apologised for Noel’s outburst. Elle was a Cuban air hostess, and I guess those three words said it all. She was a feisty and lovable girl who certainly enjoyed life to the full. I didn’t mind Noel having a pop at me, as that had become almost a habit. But I wasn’t going to wear him berating a girl in front of a group she doesn’t really even know. Liam defended me, which made Noel even angrier. In terms of pissing Noel right off, I’d excelled myself this time.
Oasis: The Truth Page 19