The faces of Noel and Liam, with beard, appear in colour on the cover; inside their faces each appear in black and white

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pictures by Peter Robathon

"Women have had me over. It's happened twice in the last month. After I've bopped 'em, they've gone and sold it to the papers and made money out of it. Fair play. But I've just come in their gob (mouth) and gone off, so therefore I've had them over. Tied 1 - all, baby." - Liam Gallagher

Liam Gallagher does not make a terrific ambassador for Great Britain - or his gender, for that matter. Granted, he loves to hear himself talk. It's just that the 23-year-old lead singer of Oasis is happiest when he's doing or saying something obnoxious and stupid. Which means he swaggers through life in a state of almost constant euphoria.

Like now, for instance. The setting is the Brit Awards, England's equivalent to the Grammys, and Gallagher is onstage, bent over and pretending to receive an enema from the Best Album statue he and his band have just won for their second album, (What's the Story) Morning Glory? After a few moments, he strolls back to the podium for an announcement: "Fuck."

Then, Gallagher stuffs his hands deep into the pockets of the winter coat he's wearing despite the balmy indoor conditions. "Anyone tough enough to take us off this stage can come up now," he says. And although the room is a pasty sea of other British bands with one-word monikers - Blur, Radiohead, Supergrass, Pulp - no one takes him up on his offer. At this moment it's official: These five working-class kids from Manchester, England, are the kings of the English hill. There is no band bigger or more loutish in all the land.

Gallagher and the other members of Oasis relinquish the stage and saunter back to their table for more celebrating. Carrying a pint of lager and directing the charge is Liam Gallagher's 28-year-old brother, Noel, the band's lead guitarist and songwriter. Behind Noel straggle guitarist Paul "Bonehead" Arthurs, bassist Paul McGuigan and drummer Alan White, who replaced the band's original drummer, Tony McCarroll, just before the recording of Morning Glory last year.

It is Morning Glory that is the focus of the night, and with the help of the single "Wonderwall," the album has captured the rapt attention of the rest of the world. But it is the band's attitude - personified by the Gallagher brothers' enthusiastic drug use, fighting and self-consciously outrageous rants to the press - that has made Oasis their own traveling sideshow.

"We like annoying people," says Noel matter-of-factly. "It's a Manchester thing. It's a trait. We just like pissing people off."

Almost lost in the maelstrom are Oasis' two albums of undeniably catchy British Invasion-inspired pop. Horribly derivative, yes, but also incredibly addictive. What's more, the group has expanded on the pure bluster of its 1994 debut, Definitely Maybe, adding a softer, more layered sound for Morning Glory. While the first record was relentless rock & roll, the second gently winds its way through the songs. While Liam used to adopt a Johnny Rotten-style sneer, he now sings.

"I had no idea, even after the first album, that Liam could sing like he did on 'Wonderwall,'" says Noel. "I had no idea that any of us could play as well as we did on Morning Glory. I hoped we could, but I didn't know. The whole of the first album is about escape. It's about getting away from the shitty, boring life of Manchester. The first album is about dreaming of being a pop star in a band. The second album is about actually being a pop star in a band."

What being a rock star means most to the brothers Gallagher is freedom. Freedom, for the first time in their lives, to purchase what they want when they want it. Also the freedom to make complete and utter asses of themselves in any way they see fit.

"We've got this reputation as being hard-drinking, groupie-shagging, drug-snorting geezers," says Noel, who recently made the ultimate rock-star move by hiring a bodyguard. "There's always people who want to test you."

Are Oasis in fact hard-drinking, groupie-shagging, drug-snorting geezers? Noel leans back in his chair and smiles contentedly.

"Yeah."

To the members of Oasis, everything comes down to class. Not social graces and manners, mind you, but class. As in working, middle and upper class. They are from Manchester, and they are working class. Period. It's as much a part of their identities as their surnames.

"I ain't got no chip on my shoulder because I'm working class, I just know who I am," says Liam. "I don't look down on no one. If I was middle class and my ma gave me everything, I'd admit it. I've got money now, so if I have kids, I'm gonna give my kids everything."

As children, Liam and Noel shared a bedroom. It is a grievance Noel still brings up because their brother, Paul, 18 months Noel's senior, had his own room. For the most part, their daily life was fairly routine. The brothers played soccer, fought, listened to music and skipped school in order to fight, listen to music and play more soccer.

"It's funny, because I don't really remember much about that time," says Noel. "I wouldn't say it was a happy upbringing, but it was normal. The only thing that separates us from people in Manchester now is that I'm sitting here, and all those people are still doing heroin and still on the dole. But we were no different. We've got no qualifications between the five of us. We're not academically qualified to do anything."

Schoolwork was particularly tough on Noel because he suffers from dyslexia. "I didn't know what it was at the time," he says. "When I write, I'll give it to someone else to read, and they'll say, 'This doesn't make any sense.' And then I'll read it back to them, and they'll say, 'Half the words are missing.' But to me they're there."

At 13, just as Noel was beginning to develop an interest in playing guitar, he was thrown out of his music class at school. To make matters worse, the following year the Gallaghers' father - a construction worker by day and occasional country-music DJ by night - abandoned the family.

"I haven't seen him since I was 18; I'm 28 now," says Noel. "I only started to be in a group when I was 24, so from 18 to 24, I had no inclination to talk to him. I don't see why that should change just because I've made a lot of money. He's still a twat and always will be a twat. I don't care if he's living on his own or on the dole. He was always a cunt. He was never there. He was always at the pub. When he finally left, we were glad to be rid of him."

Liam is even more succinct: "If I saw the cunt, I'd kick his ass."

In retrospect, Noel realizes that life for his mother could not have been easy - "Me mum's stronger than all of us," he says - but he still views the entire situation as "inevitable." It happens, he says. Families break up, fathers flee, and sometimes mothers are left alone to raise their kids. In the Gallaghers' case, it was 9-year-old Liam and two teenagers, Noel and Paul, who never adopted a paternal role toward their youngest sibling.

"This might seem very cold and hard, but when you come from Manchester, I wouldn't say it's a brutal upbringing, but it's a very down-to-earth, working-class upbringing," says Noel. "You've got more things to think about than your little brother's emotional stability. You've got to make a fucking living to make ends meet."

Toward that end, Noel tried his hand at crime. At 18, he got caught burgling a house. Soon after, he escaped Manchester as a roadie for the band Inspiral Carpets.

That left Liam back at home, age 15, about to be kicked out of school for a fight that ended with his getting cracked in the skull with a hammer. Not that Liam was upset - he quickly landed a job building fences.

"Everyone else was in school, and I was making 70 pounds [$108] a week," says Liam. "I was fucking rich. So fuck them. I told the teacher he could stick it up his ass."

It was Paul Arthurs - dubbed Bonehead at age 9 because his father made him wear a crew cut - who first recruited Liam, McGuigan (also kicked out of school for fighting) and drummer McCarroll into Oasis. Even then the outlook for success looked bleak until Noel reappeared in Manchester in 1992. Returning to his hometown after four years spent huddling around other people's guitars, Noel launched a successful coup, seizing control of Oasis by insisting that he play lead guitar and write all the songs. There was little resistance.

"I knew something was around the corner, but I didn't know what," says Liam of the band's early days. "I just knew I didn't want to work."

But what if your brother didn't write songs?

"That's like, 'What if the fucking world was square?'" says Liam. He pauses as if to find the most perfectly offensive example, then continues: "'Or what if the queen had fucking 10 tits?'"

So with Noel in the band, Queen Elizabeth on the throne and two years of practice under their belts, Oasis traveled to a club in Glasgow, Scotland, talked their way onto the stage and ended up scoring a record deal after just six shows. Since then, Definitely Maybe has become the fastest-selling debut in British history, McCarroll has been fired, McGuigan and Noel have relocated to London, Morning Glory has hit the Top 5 in America, and Manchester has become more a part of Oasis' past than their present.

"I still live in Manchester, but I'm not part of it anymore," says Arthurs, who is married and has a 1-year-old daughter. "When we started the band, people would say, 'Come to the pub, have a few beers,' but we'd say, 'Nope, we're rehearsing.' I had two mates who I'd known all me life that were getting married, and they said, 'Come to me wedding,' and I said, 'No disrespect, but I'm working, I'm rehearsing.' That's how serious we were. So at the end of the day, there's no one left for us in Manchester. They've all said, 'Fuck off.' But now we're up here and looking down at them and saying, 'If that's what you want, then fuck you.' I've probably got one person that I grew up with that stood by me."

There is no reason for Michael Hutchence to be carrying a concealed weapon, but if by chance he were, the members of Oasis would be in grave danger. "I believe Michael wants to slap my face," says Liam, recognizing this peril as he wobbles to the podium to receive the award Hutchence is presenting. The INXS frontman steps quietly to the side, and Noel leans in front of his brother. For a moment, it seems as if taste and judgment might prevail. Wrong.

"They really shouldn't let has-beens hand out awards," says Noel. He pauses to contemplate a more lengthy acceptance speech. "I'm rich," he says, "and you're not."

Yes, we are back at the Brit Awards, and the winner once again is Oasis - the category, Best Video; the song, "Wonderwall."

In many respects, "Wonderwall" represents all that is Oasis. It's a beautiful song with a timeless melody that sounds deceptively effortless. But trying to discern what in the hell it means is nearly impossible.

"A wonderwall can be anything," offers Liam. "It's just a beautiful word. It's like looking for that bus ticket, and you're trying to fucking find it, that bastard, and you finally find it and you pull it out, 'Fucking mega, that is me wonderwall.'"

Thank you very much, Liam. In actuality, "Wonderwall" was written for Noel's girlfriend, Meg Matthews, at a time when she was out of work and he wanted her to know how important she was to him. Why he chose the word wonderwall (the title of a George Harrison solo album) is something not even Noel seems to understand. It's as though his musical inspiration comes from the Beatles (probably a good thing) and his lyrical muse from Dr. Seuss (probably not). An example: "The sink is full of fishes/She's got dirty dishes on the brain/ And my dog's been itchin'/Itchin' in the kitchen once again."

"I know, I know, I get lazy," says Noel. "I'm not John Lennon. I'm not trying to say anything. I'm just trying to entertain people. Sometimes you don't care about trying to make the lyrics make sense. Fuck, it's only lyrics. I oughta make an album of instrumentals." He pauses. "When I'm sober, I think too much about the lyrics. I'm at my best when I'm pissed out of me head and I just write. I mean, 'Roll With It' is like" - he bobs his head mockingly - "who cares. Even 'Don't Look Back in Anger' doesn't mean anything, even though it's a great song."

He's right. "Don't Look Back in Anger" is a great song. But it's like an attractive blind date who turns out to have no conversational skills whatsoever. Just ask Liam.

"There's shitloads of meaning in the songs," says Liam, even though moments ago he'd claimed not to know what any of the songs meant. "I don't know what they mean, but there's still meaning there. They mean things, but I just don't exactly know what."

The songs on Definitely Maybe were great because of their attitude, not their substance. "Cigarettes and Alcohol," "Rock 'n' Roll Star" and "Supersonic" were all rock songs about rock songs, just as Morning Glory's "Cast No Shadow," "Don't Look Back in Anger" and "Champagne Supernova" are more about their own grace than their lyrical content. Not to mention that Oasis should be proud to have avoided being sued for plagiarism on the new album. It's a step in the right direction.

On their debut, "Cigarettes and Alcohol" directly ripped off the opening riff of T-Rex's "Bang a Gong," and "Shakermaker" was the subject of a lawsuit after Coca-Cola noticed that the band had directly lifted the melody (and some of the lyrics) from its jingle "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing." In the end the courts ruled that Oasis had to change some of the words.

"We ripped it off, so they had the right to sue us," says Arthurs. "Fair enough. People will steal from other bands but change the lyrics. We just did the same thing but kept some of the same lyrics in." He pauses. "We drink Pepsi now." Doesn't Noel feel it's an insult to be involved in litigation over stealing from an ad campaign? After all, advertising executives aren't exactly noted for their edgy content. Perhaps, just perhaps, there is such a thing as being too catchy. He disagrees.

"Look at Nirvana," says Noel. "They were the fucking best, and that guy [Kurt Cobain] was the king of the catchy fucking rock record. You could not write catchier tunes than him. So I don't think you can be too catchy. As long as you have your Marshall amps on 10 and it makes people's eyes water."

"I'm miles away from Noel. We've gone past being close. Know what I mean?" Not at all, actually. "Well, neither do I, but we don't need to be close." - Liam Gallagher

Go here for Part 2

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c 1998 Andrew Turner

aturner@interalpha.co.uk

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