by Paolo Hewitt
‘And there were all these cars,’ Liam recalls, ‘going, beep, beep, beep and we’re going, “Fuck off,” and all these people are watching us. But it had to be done.’
Of more importance to Noel was what Marr’s manager, Marcus, had thought of the gig. Louise had told Noel that Marcus was present but he had quickly disappeared. What did that mean? Noel thought. That he wasn’t impressed? Is that why he didn’t come backstage?
The next day, Noel called him up at Ignition to find out. Yes, Marcus reassured him, I was impressed, very impressed. ‘Do you want to have a chat about things?’ Noel wanted to know. ‘Sure,’ Marcus replied.
‘Well what are you doing now?’ Noel asked.
Marcus gave out a small laugh. ‘But you’re in Manchester, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ came the reply, ‘but we do have trains up here, you know.’
Five hours later, Noel Gallagher and Marcus Russell sat talking in a cafe near the Ignition offices in London’s West End. Marcus told him what he thought about Oasis, how he loved them playing ‘Walrus’, and that the other songs were ace. Plus, he added, your singer looks fucking cool, a real star in fact.
Noel replied by telling him how he was sick to the back teeth by all these crappy bands like Suede and REM making it big, and here they were, a great band, with nothing to show for it.
‘He was just explaining his vision,’ Marcus says, ‘and I bought it hook line and sinker. He was just totally and utterly faultless. I don’t know what it was but I was totally convinced. At the end of the conversation, I was like, I’m there.
‘He said, “Well do we get a contract?” I said, “No, I don’t do contracts, but I want to be your manager and if that’s fine by you, we’ll shake hands.”’
Noel put out his right hand and Marcus Russell shook it. He was now manager of the best new band in the country.
‘What about the rest of the guys?’ Marcus asked.
‘They’ll be fine,’ Noel replied. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go back and tell them.’
Marcus said, ‘I should come up and meet them.’
‘I’ll fix it up,’ Noel promised. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
Then musician and manager went their separate ways.
‘And then it struck me when I got home,’ Marcus recalls with wry amazement. ‘I had just taken on a band and I haven’t even got a tape of them. I’ve seen five songs live, met this geezer, and that was it. I was their manager.’
The Oasis magic, in the area.
Noel went back and told the band about Marcus. Then he sent one of the demo tapes of the Liverpool sessions down to him. The day after he phoned up and arranged for Marcus to meet the band in the City Inn pub, near to the Hacienda.
By the time Marcus got to that meeting he was utterly convinced that he had something truly special on his hands.
‘I just fell in love with that tape,’ he enthuses. ‘After about a week of playing the tape, I started thinking, this looks like being the band I’ve been dreaming of ever since I started in the business.
‘A rock ‘n’ roll band in the good old British tradition with great songs, who are up for it and for whom hard work is a piece of piss. They just had all those ingredients.’
All of Oasis, bar Tony McCarroll, were present at this meeting. There was a very good reason for the drummer’s absence. The band wanted him out. According to them, the drummer hadn’t progressed musically. When he first joined, he was easily the most proficient. Now he had been overtaken. That was bad enough, but worse still was that none of the band got on with him. They just couldn’t fathom it out. He seemed to have no interests, no overriding passions to dominate his life. To the Oasis way of thinking, he just wasn’t right.
It showed, Liam says, in his general behaviour. ‘I never,’ the singer asserts, ‘saw him clean his kit once, change the skins or talk about this drummer’s cool or this drummer’s great. He was coming along with these pieces of paper and I was like, “You don’t need them. Just practise every day, that’s how you get good. That’s what I do.”
‘I sing every day. I’m always singing, Noel’s always playing his guitar, Guigsy’s always fiddling with the bass, Bonehead’s the same. There’s no point getting a piece of paper out ’cos the thing that makes a good drummer is trying things out, and the reason you can’t do it is because you haven’t got any records. Sit down and play The Who, The Stones, The Beatles, listen to them because that’s where it comes from, not a piece of paper.’
Guigsy, who is the first to admit that his bass playing skills are not above the norm, says, ‘For the first six months of rehearsals I always thought it was me fucking up. Then I realised that it was him. He just didn’t progress.’
So, the band told Marcus, we want him out. Not a good idea, their manager told them. You’ve got a string of gigs coming up, you’re about to sign a deal and go in the studio; if you sack him now you’re going to lose three months while you find someone more compatible.
The thought of having to put everything on hold at a time when the band was so eager to get going, deterred them from their plan. Unlike Pete Best, the Beatles’ drummer who was sacked just after the group signed to EMI, Mccarroll was allowed to remain. For the time being.
Marcus then outlined his vision of the band’s future. First off, they were going to hit the road and play every flea-pit available. Live work would be the order of the day. There was no better way for building up a fan base that would remain totally committed to the band.
They would deliberately avoid London for the time being and there would be no hype surrounding the band. It would all be word of mouth, the best form of publicity there is.
The band eagerly agreed. They loved playing live and to be able to go on the road and spread the word to every boy and girl truly excited them. Especially Noel and Liam. For them, standing on a stage playing music to an appreciative crowd gave you the best feeling in the world. Nothing can touch it. Nothing, not even drugs. On-stage is where the Gallagher brothers express themselves emotionally and in doing so find a very real kind of happiness.
‘The best thing,’ Liam explains, ‘is the crowd relating to it. That is the best thing. When I’m on-stage, that is me. You could shoot me thirty-five times and I won’t feel it ’cos up there no one can touch me.’
‘But let’s not,’ Marcus insisted, ‘get obsessed with cracking Britain. As far as I’m concerned, with these songs and your attitude, there’s no reason why Oasis shouldn’t be successful worldwide. No reason whatsoever. Again, we’ll go and play everywhere. Yes, success in Britain does tend to give you a leg up, especially in Europe, but it’s not the be all and end all. Never forget that.’ Then he told them about his experience with Latin Quarter.
‘As for the Creation deal, I’ll go and see Alan McGee as soon as possible and sound him out.’
Noel then butted in. ‘What’s important,’ he told Marcus, ‘is that we retain complete artistic control. I’m not having anyone, and that’s anyone, telling Oasis what to do. That’s down to me and the band. If it means we take less money, then arsed. If we do things our way we’re going to make shitloads anyway.’
‘Fine,’ Marcus said, ‘I totally agree with you.’
The band had listened carefully to Marcus and they liked him. He was straightforward, down to earth, he had good ideas and he obviously believed in them. But what really swung it was when he outlined his deal with the group. No contract, I take 20%, here’s my hand, if you shake it we have a deal.
‘Which is what I wanted,’ Liam recalls. ‘None of that negotiation shit. I want to be straight with everyone. We’re a top band, we make great music. You get your bit, we’ll get our bit. But I tell ya, if anyone ever ripped us off, I’d do them, and I’d do it personally.’
Marcus may have only known the group a couple of hours but just by the obvious gang mentality they displayed, he knew enough to know that any kind of backhanded behaviour would undoubtedly place his general well-being in extreme danger.
No, what Marcus had in mind, was something different. Oasis had dedicated themselves to becoming a group that would be remembered years down the line for their musical excellence and ability.
Similarly, Marcus Russell’s main ambition was to emulate his all-time managerial role model, Peter Grant, who had steered Led Zeppelin to world-wide domination in the 1970s. So when Marcus walked away from that first meeting with Oasis, he pinched himself hard.
He had just found the band with which to realise his ambitions.
On Tuesday 8 June 1993 Alan McGee met Noel Gallagher at Euston station and they went for an Indian meal. The first thing McGee did was to order a triple Jack Daniels and coke.
‘I think that impressed Noel,’ he says.
On the Thursday, McGee flew out to Memphis to oversee the Primal Scream recording sessions and then, three weeks later, on Friday 2 July, at eleven in the morning, he met Marcus Russell for the very first time.
The meeting took place in McGee’s main office at Creation. Naturally, he was extremely keen to get negotiations underway. He knew that word of this phenomenal new group was starting to spread around the record companies. Marcus had already received firm offers from EMI, Polydor, MCA and Island Records.
But the keenest competitors by far were Andy Macdonald at Go! Discs, and Malcolm Dunbar at U2’s record company, Mother Records. Dunbar had told Marcus that whatever money McGee offered, he would double it straightaway.
Marcus resisted all offers. He and Oasis had already decided on Creation as the best home for them. Marcus’s job now was to see if they were capable of breaking a band worldwide. If not, then and only then, would he consider talking to other companies.
When the meeting finished, McGee saw Marcus out of the building and then returned to his office. The phone rang. It was Noel, calling from Manchester.
‘What’s my manager like?’ he wanted to know.
‘Easily the best manager I’ve ever dealt with,’ McGee replied.
It was true. McGee had been totally impressed by Marcus’s thoroughness and determination. The main example of this was when McGee told Marcus that he wanted to sign Oasis for the world, not just the UK But Marcus had done his homework.
‘I’m not happy with Creation’s performance world-wide,’ he told McGee. ‘I’m perfectly happy for the band to be on Creation Records in the United Kingdom but not elsewhere.’
McGee agreed that the companies who licensed his records outside of the UK had yet to deliver. He asked Marcus for a month or so to try and change the deals he had struck. ‘I’ll see if I can come up with something acceptable for you.’
‘Look,’ Marcus stressed. ‘we want to sign with you and I give you my word that we won’t talk to anyone. But you have to sort your end out.’
The two met again on Friday 17 July, this time with Garry Blackburn of Anglo Plugging present. He handled TV and radio exposure for all Creation acts.
McGee played Blackburn the demo tape. After it had finished, McGee said to the plugger, ‘Garry, imagine you are playing at Wembley in a cup final. It is the eighty-ninth minute and it’s nil-nil. You have got the ball and you have gone through, dribbled round the keeper and now all that is between you and victory is an empty goal. Garry, all you have to do is kick that ball into the. net, and that ball right now is Oasis.’
It was melodramatic, highly theatrical but totally unnecessary.
Blackburn had been totally convinced by the music. For his part, Marcus liked McGee. He found McGee’s knowledge and passion for music a real tonic.
‘Here’s a guy,’ Marcus recalls, ‘who actually loves Rod Stewart and The Faces, and I hadn’t found anyone who’d had the guts to say so at that particular time.’
In July Oasis played just two gigs. One at the Boardwalk and then one at Le Bateau in Liverpool. This left most of August free, which is when Noel and Marcus travelled to New York to inspect various record companies.
At a meeting with a major A&R man, who shall remain nameless, they played him ‘Digsy’ s Dinner’, ‘Sad Song’, and ‘Live Forever’.
‘You guys are from Manchester?’ he enquired. ‘Well, it sure don’t sound anything like Jesus Jones to me.’
This was a Manchester band that had just gained some popularity in the States. It wasn’t the kind of analysis or show of support that either Noel or Marcus wanted to hear.
During their stay they also visited Epic Records, who had signed Pearl Jam. The band were now one of the biggest attractions in America. Marcus was impressed by the label’s attitude and strategy. ‘Long-term planning,’ he explains, ‘that’s how they did it.’
On Marcus and Noel’s return to the UK Oasis prepared for a showcase gig at Manchester’s Canal Bar as part of the In The City season. Noel also gave McGee a tape of ‘Live Forever’. The Creation boss took it on holiday with him to Honolulu.
On 9 August 1993 McGee called up Noel from the beach he was sunbathing on. ‘Noel,’ he enthused, ‘this track, “Live Forever”, it’s absolutely amazing. It’s a classic.’
Noel stood in his Manchester flat with two quid in his pocket on a miserable rainy afternoon listening to a man in sundrenched Honolulu telling him that his song was great.
There is something very, very wrong here, Noel thought to himself.
Actually, there was something awry in Noel’s life but it was nothing to do with music. It concerned Louise. The relationship was breaking down and Noel wanted out.
‘It was funny,’ Bonehead said, ‘you’d go round to pick Noel up to go rehearsing, and Louise would turn up just as we were leaving with the shopping. They’d just kind of nod to each other and then go their separate ways.’
One night they had had an argument and Louise told Noel that the band he was in was crap and the music he wrote was shite. Noel picked that line up straightaway.
In any case, Noel wouldn’t have been totally focused on his relationship. His band was obviously on the way. If Creation didn’t get them then someone else would, that was for certain. Soon, he would be making his first album.
Better than that, one of his all-time heroes, Johnny Marr, was now making some very encouraging noises about Oasis, and that was sweet sweet music to Noel’s ears. To get recognition from one of your peers, let alone someone you truly respect, can only serve to boost your self-confidence sky high.
When he and Marr had first met in May 1993 they talked about The Smiths, music, Manchester. Then the talk, as it had to, moved on to guitars. Noel told Johnny about a shop he knew about in Doncaster where they sold rare guitars. Marr had never heard of the shop.
‘Fuck it, why don’t we go there tomorrow?’ Marr suggested, an invitation that Noel was never likely to turn down.
At the time, Marr was working with an engineer called Owen Morris and it was these three who got into a car and drove over to Doncaster. On the way, Marr offered Noel a spliff but Noel refused. He explained that his doctor had told him that his low blood pressure made marijuana bad for him.
‘I have to stick to chemicals,’ Noel explained with a laugh. Marr asked him if he was now experiencing more vivid dreams.
‘There’s a medical term for it,’ Marr explained, ‘it’s called something like daytura dream deferred. When you come off the spliff, you get your dreams back.’
Instantly, Noel’s radar switched on. ‘That’s a top song title,’ he exclaimed. ‘Mind if I have it?’
The next day, Noel wrote a song called ‘Daytura Dream Deferred’. At the shop, Marr, in front of Noel, who was still signing on, spent some £9,000 on guitars that according to Owen, ‘He really didn’t need, he was just showing off.’
But what’s interesting here is Noel’s reaction to Marr’s extravagance. It wasn’t one of jealousy or distaste. He simply thought to himself, one day that’s going to be me. And he was right.
Marr now recalls meeting Liam for the first time.
‘I went round to Noel’s flat in India House,’ he says, ‘and he and Louise had this big fish tan
k with all these different kinds of fish in it. I didn’t realise Liam was there until I shouted over to Noel in the sitting room, “What are these ones called?” Then I heard a voice behind me say, “Fish.” That was Liam. Of course, as soon as I saw him, I just went...’
You would have thought then that around this period, Noel would have been totally fixated on his debut album, planning every second of the music, thinking about the cover, what image to use, etc. Not so. That job was already completed.
Noel already had Definitely Maybe worked out in his mind. He was now planning the second album.
The proof of this is when he moved out of India House, stayed with Bonehead for a while and then moved down to Chiswick, London, to live in a flat that Ignition had found for him, opposite Eden Recording Studios.
Noel’s main friends in London were the Abbots, and both Tim and Chris distinctly remember going round to see the songwriter, and Noel picking up an exercise book, showing them pages of lyrics and casually saying, ‘That’s the second album. I’ve got the music and everything.’
Prior to Noel’s move to London, Oasis still didn’t have a record contract. McGee had been unable to change his foreign licensees. He phoned Marcus and they met again. There had to be a solution to the problem and through their many discussions it finally arrived.
Marcus told McGee that out of all the companies he had visited in the States, Epic had caught his eye. Then it occurred to the pair of them that as Creation were licensed to Sony in the UK, why not let Oasis sign direct to Sony and let Creation licence the records. That way Creation would basically be their UK label but Epic could handle them worldwide.
It was the answer both McGee and Marcus had been looking for. A contract was drawn up and on Friday 22 October 1993 Oasis went to McGee’s office and signed to Creation Records.
They were given a £40,000 advance, for which the band were obliged to supply Creation Records, via Sony, with six studio albums. Live albums or compilations didn’t count.
The band all put their signatures on the contract. Oasis now had a record deal. To celebrate, they went to the Break For The Border restaurant next to the London Palladium. Much alcohol was imbibed, and some of the group tried to play the bar band’s instruments that were left on the stage.
