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October 1995 - Andres Lokko [POP #14] Oasis

Note: Liam and Noel answer questions for the 14th issue of the Swedish magazine “POP”. This is a translation and not direct quotes.

The Gallagher brothers from Manchester are the “Mafia brothers” (Goodfellas is called “Maffiabröder” in Swedish) of pop. It’s all about respect, revenge and roots. And about turning up the fucking volume and playing rock’n’roll. Andres Lokko joins Oasis, and their “mate who rocks” to the pub, to talk about their new record.

“Whatever gets you thru’ the night ‘salright, ‘salright”

JOHN LENNON, 1974

LIAM GALLAGHER sits at a table at the Marriot Hotel bar in London’s Swiss Cottage. Around the same table are his girlfriend, Oasis bassist Paul “Guigsy” McGuigan and a young man who Liam introduces as a “new member of Oasis and my mate who will hang with us during the interview because he rocks”.

Okay. I have no problem with that.

His friend, who Liam says rock and will be hanging out with us, is called Robbie. He was just sacked from “Take That”, and Liam has been looking after him. They both come from Manchester. That’s enough. Besides, it’s Robbie who’s taking care of the drinks for the rest of the evening.

Liam is sunburnt after spending his holidays in Portugal with his girlfriend. But he still cannot swim. When Liam was six years old, he almost drowned. He doesn’t want to say more about it, but it stuck with him, and he is still scared to death of water. He has no ice in his Bourbon & Cola.

Right now, he is slouched in an armchair with a bunch of drinks on the table in front of him.

Liam holds court. He entertains his friends and family. When he’s being funny, you laugh, but it’s better to let him laugh first. Because those who are not with him are against him. He is extremely sarcastic to everything and everyone. As soon as it is quiet for more than a few seconds, he’ll start hurling abuse. Some of it is clever, most of it is crude.

When I ask my first question, he says offhandedly:

“I sing in a band called Oasis, just so you know.”

Just before that, to the delight of his company, he had eyed me from head to toe, turned back without a word, taken a sip of his drink and without looking back at me, explained that I “look like Damon fucking Albarn from fucking Blur” and fucking Blur is the most revolting thing he knows.

He reels in the applause from his companions, takes another sip and, despite my protests on my alleged resemblance to Damon from Blur, simply raises an eyebrow and returns to his drink. But now, at least, a satisfied smile plays on the corner of his mouth.

In this bar, among his peers, he reminds me more of Joe Pesci’s manic and paranoid lead role in “Goodfellas” than of the Johnny Boy from “Mean Streets” I’ve always associated him with before. Laugh at the wrong time and not only have you now made an enemy for life, but you’ve now also got a bullet hole in the head or, at the very least, a missing kneecap. That’s an exaggeration. But that’s his jargon. Sometimes he loses concentration, he’ll take a walk around the bar, stare at people at other tables and look pissed off. Sometime in the middle of a sentence he’ll change subject or start talking to his friends about something completely different. Football, Robbie’s new Dolce & Gabbana shirt or about his girlfriend. He is utterly spontaneous, honest and, like most of Scorsese’s films, demands nothing but respect.

“As long as you don’t ask useless questions, I’ll stay. Do you understand?”

In 1973 Martin Scorsese directed “Mean Streets”, a film starring Robert De Niro about two gangsters and their upbringing in New York’s Little Italy. Seventeen years later, in 1990, Martin Scorsese directed “Goodfellas”, a film starring Robert De Niro about two gangsters and their upbringing in New York’s Little Italy.

These are films about family, brotherhood and friendship. They are also films about chauvinism, stupidity, dreams and pride.

And, above all, that some things never change.

Respect. Revenge. Roots.

If Martin Scorsese were twenty years younger, he would have bought the film rights to the story of brothers Liam and Noel Gallagher a long time ago.

Whenever Liam is about to say something, he will lean forward with the same arrogance and emphasis as he does behind his microphone on stage. Liam is here to defend himself, his band and Manchester City’s colours before he can even be accused of anything. When Liam says something, his eyes flicker between his friends around the table, as if expecting a response. A simple nod or a short laugh at the right time is enough to get his approval.

In the same bar, two days later, Noel Gallagher has just woken up and is having breakfast.

Noel doesn’t surround himself with a crowd; he doesn’t need a support group. Noel is as confident as his younger brother, but unlike him, does not seem to feel cornered, wherefrom defensiveness appears to be Liam’s only escape.

But he’s missing his sunglasses, which he thinks he lost somewhere the night before.

“When did I write my first song? I don’t really remember. I could say that it was when I was six years old, but the first thing I wrote seriously must have been when I was twelve, maybe thirteen.”

Why did you do it?

“Why? For the exact same reason I do now, because I’m bored.”

Why do you think there have been so many special bands from Manchester over the years?

“So many can there not have been? The Smiths, New Order, the Roses, Buzzcocks, The Mondays, Joy Division... and Oasis.”

That’s quite a lot, isn’t it?

“Alright then. There have been a great deal good bands that come from Manchester. But I don’t actually know why. Probably because people are bored. You’ve probably heard this before, but in Manchester you finish school, you’re bored out of your mind and you either want to become a football player or a musician. Fail at either of these, and you end up in a gang making a living selling drugs. And everyone that grew up in Manchester and on its outskirts knows this and that’s probably why so many good football players and bands come from there. I mean, it’s cooler to be in a band than to be selling pills outside The Haçienda. Or wherever business happens to be best at the moment.”

Why did you move from Manchester?

“It was boring. I was fucking bored, and Manchester was fucking boring. I had nowhere to go and had to move and since I could afford it, I moved down here to London.”

The photograph on the cover of “(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?” was taken early one morning on Berwick Street, very close to Noel Street, and just one block away from Soho’s fruit and vegetable market. Even if you do not live in London, you’ll immediately recognize the place. The blurry person in the middle of the picture is Sean Rowley, a TV producer by day. He is one of author and journalist Paolo Hewitt’s best friends and the boyfriend of folk singer Tasha Lee McCluney.

Two weeks before the interview, and three weeks before “Roll With It” enters the UK charts at number two, a few hundred people are crowded on the sidewalk outside a pub on Dean Street, two blocks east of Berwick Street.

The pub is called the Crown & Two Chairmen. In the intimate upstairs banquet room, Sean Rowley’s girlfriend and singer Beth Orton, who was recently featured on albums with the Chemical Brothers and Red Snapper, have invited their friends and acquaintances to, under the name “Acoustically Heavenly”, play songs, their own or others, new and old, in front of about a hundred semi-acquaintances.

On this particular Wednesday, the rumour had spread a little further than usual. Noel Gallagher and Paul Weller would play a set together. The week before, The Charlatans had played a full room, but not so full that you couldn’t still breathe.

Someone, allegedly Tasha Lee herself, had let it slip around a handful of music journalists. So, there they were. All of them. They drummed their fingers on the bar counter to no avail. Noel never showed up. Neither did Paul.

It was a good night anyway. But that’s hardly the point.

Noel had cancelled. He had cancelled because everything Oasis does, every move the Gallagher brothers make is covered by the British music press.

An undisclosed acoustic gig at a friend’s club in Soho became national news in just a few hours.

“No one can tell that the photo was taken just off Noel Street. You can’t see it in the picture, but if you know, you know. I know it, I know it was taken there and why it’s just Sean standing there. And that’s good enough.”

*****

Oasis comes from Manchester. Even though the Gallagher brothers mention the city’s “other” team, Manchester City, at every opportunity; despite their dialect, humour, jargon, musical roots and fashion being undoubtedly northern, you associate Oasis with Manchester as little as they did the Beatles to Liverpool in the mid 1960s. Despite their northern roots, the Beatles came to personify Carnaby Street and Swinging London. In a very similar way, Oasis came to personify a similar London in the mid 1990s.

They do it with the same kind of Northern irony and detachment. The love-hate relationship with the big city is always there, deep down.

Liam still lives at home with his mother and eldest brother, Paul, in Manchester. Noel has moved down to an apartment in Camden. That they decided to take the photograph for “(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?” on one of Soho’s most distinctive Streets isn’t particularly surprising. That they also asked a friend, who, incidentally, was born, raised and still lives in London, to pose for the cover was almost expected.

Oasis is very much about the lads, the mates and the gang. Their entourage is the same cast of characters that once surrounded the Clash, the Stones and every other classic rock’n’roll band.

In the wake of Oasis, you will always meet the same crowd. There are a few journalists, the odd drug dealer, some former pop star, managers of the aforementioned pop stars, a handful of DJs and professional party planners. All of them are men in their prime, just under or just over thirty. They are easy to recognize. They move with the same forward-leaning, arrogant gait as Liam, they dress like weathered modernists, nonchalant unbuttoned button-down shirts that hang unironed over white jeans and worn-down Adidas. They chain smoke Silk Cuts but always tear off the filter before the next one, with a sports bag slung over their shoulder. They always, always look as if they’ve just come from football practice or boxing.

It might not look like it, but they’re a tenacious part of London’s party elite, and it’s much the same crowd that surrounds Primal Scream, Paul Weller, The Charlatans, writer Irvine Welch and even Robbie from Take That.

“But my move from Manchester to London has nothing to do with the success of Oasis. I just wanted to get out of there. I’ve probably always wanted to get out of there.”

Most bands that make it as far as Oasis has in the span of a year tend to disappear for three years to record, but since “Supersonic” you’ve constantly been in the spotlight.

“It’s actually become a bit stressful too. So, after the next album, I’ll probably take a break and get some perspective on what we’ve done so far.”

After the next album?

“Yea, the next album. I mean, not right now, not right after “Morning Glory”. So far, it’s paid off to just keep going. If we’d settled for just England and not given a fuck about America or Europe, we would’ve been forgotten. At the same time, there’s something that appeals to me about writing a song, recording it right away, and instead of saving it for the next album, just releasing it as a single while it still feels new. I mean, “Morning Glory” already feels old. It was done in July, and when the album finally comes out in October, I’m already tired of it. It doesn’t matter how good it is.”

You seem to like to work fast.

“Sure. But more than anything, I like that my working pace keeps the public on their toes at all times. Look at the Stone Roses who took five years to record an album and, in the end, what impact did “The Second Coming” even have? Almost none. It’s because they let people listen to the first record over and over for over five years. And the longer it takes between two albums, the more the second one gets compared to the first one. We don’t want to give anyone the chance to do that.”

“I totally understand that success can breed lethargy. But take Weller for example, which I’m happy to do, he’s anything but dull. Twenty years later, he’s as good as ever, and he still means it. Unlike Morrissey who’s lost it after his first solo album. Since then, he’s only made shit. But I admire him as a pop star, and to some extent, I really do like some of his lyrics. And he gives great fucking interviews. He and Mark E. Smith from The Fall must be the two funniest guys in this country. I like Morrissey’s way of irritating people. He takes the piss out of everyone; he just can’t help himself.

You’re from the same city as Mark E. Smith and Morrissey.

“Yeah, but I’ve stopped taking the piss out of people, I think I annoy myself more than anyone else. But if you're from the north of England, it's probably in your blood. You have to take the piss out of someone or something. That’s just how it is.”

As the band’s only songwriter, do you ever miss having a partner, the same way Marriott had Lane, Lennon had McCartney and Marr had Morrissey and vice versa?

“I’ve only ever been in one band, which is Oasis, and in that band it’s just me writing, so I have no idea. I have nothing to compare it to.”

One evening at the Crown & Two Chairmen I run into Sean Rowley who’s already heard, indirectly, that the album cover is done.

“What does it look like? Noel promised it’d be a really fucking blurry photo. You can’t tell it’s me, right? Did you recognize me?” he asks.

“It looks good. I don’t think you can tell that it’s you and, no, I definitely did not recognize you,” I answered. “Someone told me it was you. How did you end up on it, anyway?”

“Noel just rang me up and asked if I wanted to be on the cover and I thought, why not? But then I started thinking... what if they decide not to blur the photo? What the fuck then? But then the photo would’ve already been taken. I won’t be able to step a foot outside without a bunch of kids pointing at me asking me if I’m the bloke on the new oasis-CD. Are you sure that the picture was blurry?”

*****

The Gallagher brothers have, in just over a year, established an image of themselves as mafia brothers on a mission, somewhere between the Kray Twins and the Blues Brothers. Or Noel as a Don Corleone and Liam as an eternal Johnny Boy from Mean Streets. After talking to Liam for over an hour, it's easy to imagine him as pop music's answer to the ageing Jake La Motta in “The Bronx Bull” in twenty years' time.

Especially right now, as Liam sits in his armchair waiting for the next punch, literally. He gestures wildly in his armchair with a cigarette in one hand, pointing at everything and everyone while restlessly rocking back and forth.

Liam, who are your favourite singers?

“John Lennon and John Lydon.” He says automatically.

“And Rod Stewart and Neil Young.”

Last year, when Noel was asked to play with Crazy Horse, you got angry. But if you respect Neil Young as a singer, it shouldn’t be so strange for Noel to want to play with his band if he is offered the chance?

“That’s the thing. It wasn't Neil Young he was playing with but fucking Crazy Horse. The thing was, I just didn't want him to play with anybody else but Oasis. Because he should be happy he's in Oasis. Because we're the best. That's what I was upset about. But looking back, I think it was quite stupid of me, I can understand it better now.”

Do you regret some of your outbursts?

“Yeah, I should’ve smacked that fucking singer from Blur once and for all when I had the chance.”

Most bands that make a debut as successful as “Definitely Maybe” tend to disappear for a little bit before even thinking about a follow-up.

“Why would we do that? We like playing. If we go a week without playing, it just feels pointless. Look at the Stone Roses. They found out that things change so fucking fast you can’t just disappear. But by the time they figured that out, it was already too late. And if some idiot thinks we’re putting out too many records, they can just piss off. If we think we’re doing something wrong, we’ll talk about it among ourselves, alright?”

“Right now, I’ve been on holiday, and I haven’t seen Guigsy for a week and I’ve missed him. And I haven’t spoken to the bald bloke in the band for just as long. So, I want to punch him in the face as soon as I can. Our fucking drummer I haven’t seen, but that’s not a big deal. But it was nice to get away from the older brother.”

Most of Oasis’ songs are full of optimism, they have a way of lifting the listener a few meters off the ground. Sometimes they’re just comforting. But there’s always something wistful about them.

“That’s just life, isn’t it? Good things happen and bad things happen. You can have all the money in the world, you can be successful and happily in love, but then you wake up one morning with cancer or maybe your mum is dying or something like that. Life is full of that. That's why “Live Forever” is such a fucking classic. Because that's what it's all about. Who doesn't want to live forever? Every song is about all of us. “Whatever gets you thru' the night, 'salright”, do you know what I mean? You’ve got to deal with all sides of life, and if all those sides aren’t in the music, then it wouldn’t be honest.”

Have you changed since starting the band?

“Yeah, but I haven’t become an idiot just because I’m in a band that’s got the success it deserves. You wake up in the morning, hungover as fuck, and your mum still sends you out to buy beans at the shop around the corner. You drag yourself out of bed, and there’s some fucking kid outside your door asking for an autograph, and then it goes on like that the rest of the day. On the way to the shop, in the shop and on the way home. And you just want to go home and sleep. But you have to because they're the ones who buy our records. So of course, life changes, but at least I still know what I’m doing.”

“Everything changes all the time. You get older. You meet new people. Then there’s a bunch of other shit that comes with this job.”

Like what?

“Birds. A bunch of little girls who are psycho and just want to shag because you sing in a band. I don't want to know about that. I have a girlfriend, and she is the most important thing I have. She should be treated with respect and we're getting married next year. Rock on!”

You still live in Manchester.

“Yep, the lads still live there. Noel and Guigsy, that bastard, have moved down here. But I still live with my mum. I was home all last week, and on every single poster I saw for "Roll With It", someone had spray-painted "Fuck this shit!". But it's only in the city centre where people have nothing better to do, they're just jealous. So, I never go into town when I'm there. I stay at a pub down in the south of Manchester."

Have your friends changed since Oasis became a full-time job?

“No, because I only have six mates. And they're cool. They've always been cool. I've never had any other mates.”

How do you go about rehearsing Noel’s new songs?

“He comes to the rehearsal room, plays the song on an acoustic guitar, and then we just go for it. If it sounds good, then it sounds good. But it’s Noel that writes the lyrics, it’s nobody else’s business, musically he’s on his own trip and we just go along for the ride. It’s completely different things that make us start fighting. It's when it's about who's going to cook the bacon, beans and eggs the next morning that it starts.”

Liam falls silent for a while and continues talking about his older brother.

“We’re different. Noel doesn’t want to do interviews when I’m in the same room, and I don’t want to do interviews when he’s in the same room as me. Everyone in the band has things to say, except our last drummer, who had nothing to fucking say and that's why he was kicked out.”

Everyone around the table laughs. Liam leans back, soaks in the praise, and orders more drinks. Robbie, Liam's Take That friend who's tagging along because he rocks, fetches them from the bar.

Do you ever feel that you are competing against other bands?

“No. If someone wants to make a thing out of me thinking Blur is a shitty fucking band, I can't control that. I'm just honest. Ask me what I think of a band, then I will answer. The only people we compete with are ourselves.”

Has your taste in music changed since “Definitely Maybe”?

“Of course it has changed. Take That’s “Back for Good” rocks. It's not up there with the Beatles or the Stones, but it's a good fucking song and you have to respect that. And I’d never have admitted that a year ago. But the new Take That single is rubbish. But I will never get tired of the Sex Pistols or the Stone Roses or the Kinks. I never will. The Verve is cool. The Cast is cool. Supergrass too. But Blur is daft. A good song is always a good song, even if it has a dress on. And a bad song is just as bad no matter what it's wearing.”

Okay. Why do you think so many good bands have come out of Manchester over the years?

"If you ask me, there's a lot of good fucking music from Manchester. Sure, but the Stones, the Small Faces, the Sex Pistols and the Kinks also made amazing music. And they were all from London. It’s just about people who get it. There are people who get it everywhere. In Scotland. In Liverpool. And in some places, like Manchester, there just happen to be a few more who get it.”

What's so special about Manchester?

“Manchester City.”

On stage you always seem to have everything under control. You hardly move at all, while the audience always goes berserk.

“We just play music. We're in our own world when we're on stage. We play music for the audience, they're the ones who should be dancing, not us. No one will ever get us to dance because it's against our nature to dance. We just want to do a better gig than the night before. That's all it is. By the way, I have never danced once in my life.”

Not even at a club when you were younger?

“No. Not even if I somehow got to go and see the Beatles tomorrow. I'd still just stand by the bar and listen to the band.”

You didn't jump up and down at the front of the stage at concerts when you were fifteen?

“No, never. I sometimes wish I had because it looks cool, but for me it was always enough to just stand there. The music was enough; it was that and nothing else that made me feel good. Just like today. We're far from perfect, but we’re trying to be, and that’s what makes us so good. We try to reach a little, a little further every time. It's about a common goal. The Sex Pistols weren’t good musicians, but together they were perfect. If you had put each of them in different bands with other musicians, they would’ve sucked. But in the Pistols, Sid Vicious sounded perfect. Or McCartney. Without the Beatles, he just sounded like shit.”

“And me, Bonehead, Guigsy, Alan and Noel are just great in Oasis. It was just about us being mates and liking the same music. We wanted to do something different from what we were doing before, which was nothing. Then it got real, and I still die every time we're on TV. But we deserve to be in the news. Every Monday to Sunday for two years, we rehearsed in the same sweaty room. There was no life outside that room, none of us had a life outside the band. When our mates came by and asked if we wanted to go to the pub, we stayed and played instead.”

If you had gone to the pub with them instead, what do you think you would have done today?

“Right now, I'd probably be sitting in my room at home with my mum, rolling a joint, I think.”

*****

When Oasis played at their record label Creation's tenth anniversary party at the Royal Albert Hall last summer, Liam was in the audience. He'd lost his voice and had strict doctor's orders to keep his mouth shut. So instead, older brother Noel stood on stage and sang the songs Liam should have sung. At a gig in London last winter, Primal Scream invited Noel as a guest. He went up on stage alone and sang the first few lines of “Live Forever”. The audience sang the rest. Like Johnny Marr and Bernard Butler before him, Oasis is not quite enough for Noel Gallagher. He wants to do other things. He wants to play Dr John covers with Paul Weller, even though he's never heard of Dr John. He wants to jam with Crazy Horse, and he wants to sing some of his own songs. On “(What's the Story) Morning Glory?” he sings two songs. On their debut, Liam sang all the songs. (“Step Out” was later removed from “(What's the Story) Morning Glory?” which Noel used to sing.)

Isn't it, how shall I put it, a bit unfair of you to take over the microphone when you have a full-time singer in the group?

“I don’t know. I only sing two songs on “Morning Glory”. And two songs out of thirteen can't be that big of a deal, right? And when we play them live, he can do what he wants. I don’t care. He can take a little walk to the dressing room, smoke a cigarette or have a drink. It’s what he's done so far, anyway.”

Someone told me that you, somewhat surprisingly, have been quite into dance music.

“Dance music? No, not really. But if you consider the Chemical Brothers dance music, then I like dance music. I've asked them to remix “Wonderwall”, and they've agreed. I think the Chemicals are the best out of everything new I’ve heard.”

Brendan Lynch, who has produced all of Paul Weller’s solo albums, remixed Primal Scream, and, under the pseudonym Indian Vibes, was behind the sitar-based club classic “Mathar”, is set to rework the final track on “Morning Glory”, the mighty “Champagne Supernova”.

They will appear on some of the B-sides to the upcoming singles from the album. Right now, the plan is for every track on the album to be released as a single one way or another.

Oasis is one of the very few bands that put as much effort into their singles as into their albums. And if someone were to pick thirteen or fourteen of the B-sides from their seven singles and line them up on an album, it would be, almost at least, as stunning a record as “Definitely Maybe” or “Morning Glory”.

On “Morning Glory”, your fascination with the Beatles is more obvious than on your debut. Has your Beatles fanaticism grown stronger?

“I don’t think it has become stronger, actually. But when we did “Definitely Maybe” none of us had set foot in a studio. We didn’t what we were doing, we just recorded the songs live. Because we didn't know how to make them sound the way we wanted. And we couldn’t afford the instruments we actually needed to get it to sound right. And since I didn’t know how to produce an album and because I've always liked the Beatles, it seems pretty obvious that some of what we do is reminiscent of them. But I haven't become more obsessed with them because I've always been obsessed with them. Besides, I have nothing left to learn from them. I've read everything written about them, and by now, I think I've heard everything they've ever recorded.”

Do you buy more old records than new ones?

“Yes, unfortunately. But I don't know if it's so tragic, actually. I mean, there's probably only one album every six months that releases that I really like, so I have to fill that six-month gap with something. So, I can either force myself to listen to new albums that I often don't like or continue listening to what really means something to me. Regardless of when it happens to have been recorded.”

“But I get a lot of help from people around me all the time. Someone might ask me if I’ve heard Amen Corner, and I’ll say I’ve heard of them but never actually listened to them. If it’s someone I trust even a little, I’ll go and buy something by Amen Corner.”

“No, but I get a lot of cassettes. Weller always turns up with tapes in his pocket. If he mentions a song I haven't heard, he’ll either run off and find me a tape with the song on it or he’ll record it for the next time I see him. He seems to spend a hell of a lot of time making cassettes for his mates. I don't do it as often, and when I do, I mostly record them for myself because I want to listen to them at home. People think I know so much about music, but I really don’t. I don't know more than anyone else, but I know what I like. I can never be bothered to record tapes for others unless someone asks. And most people, apart from Weller, seem to be the same. They’ll promise to record this or that and the next time you see them, you ask if they made that tape. Oh, I forgot, they’ll say.”

“Live Forever” means a lot to a lot of people. But it doesn't provide answers, only hope.

“Because there are no answers. All of “(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?” asks questions, even the title of the album is a question. But “Live Forever”? Well, I don't know. Everyone wants a better life and a more comfortable existence than the one we’ve got. But no one has figured out how to get it. How the fuck are we supposed to get out of the fucking place we live in? What is the meaning of this life? You know, these are questions everyone asks themselves. But there are solutions. You can always go down to the pub and get drunk. And that’s probably, as far as I can see, the only solution I have to offer.”

In American rock’n’roll, in particular with someone like Bruce Springsteen, the solution is often to get in a car and just drive away from it all.

“I have nothing against big cars or “Thunder Road” and “Route 66”, but for Oasis there's always a pub at the end of the road. There has to be a pub, or we would never even think of taking that road. I mean, it’s what you always say when someone asks where you’re going: "Down the pub, mate." You know that scene in “Magical Mystery Tour” where the Beatles are crawling around inside a tent? If we did our own “Magical Mystery Tour”, that tent would be a pub.”

Which of your songs mean the most to you?

“"Don’t Look Back in Anger" and "Wonderwall". For now, at least. It changes every day. Some days I hate some of the stuff I’ve written, other days I think the songs I hated the day before are the only good ones I've done. So, I could answer by listing every song we’ve played in chronological order. But of course, there are a few I think are really bad. "It’s Better People" is one of them. It’s an okay song, but the lyrics are embarrassing.”

When Noel Gallagher has to mention a song he's unhappy with, it’s a B-side, in this case one of the extra tracks on “Roll With It”. That says a lot about Oasis' ambition. Most artists have forgotten that there are bands that still care about their B-sides. It’s what sets apart the bands that care from the ones that don’t, from those who make music for the wrong reasons.

“I don't want to release anything but good songs. If I've written six new songs and it's time to release a new single, I'm not going to save the best two for the next album. If there's going to be a new album, single or LP, it should contain the best we’ve got. Anything else would just be lazy.”

Are you completely satisfied with “Morning Glory”?

“Yes... Well, no actually. There's one song that maybe shouldn't have been included. “Step Out”. I think it's the only weak link on the record, but some people around me have said that “Step Out” is the best on the album. So tomorrow I'll probably like it again.”

You’ve always spoken very highly of Paul Weller. Now it seems as if you hang out and play on each other’s albums all the time. Doesn’t it feel strange to get so close to someone you’ve admired your whole life?

“No, it’s not surreal at all. It’s not like he was sitting in the studio waiting for me like some headmaster at school. When I played on “Walk on Guilded Splinters” on his record, we were already friends. I just happened to be in the same studio, The Manor in Oxford, at the same time he was recording “Stanley Road”. I was mixing a live concert for the radio, and he just asked if I wanted to play guitar on a song. And when we were working on “Morning Glory”, I was talking to Paul on the phone one evening and just asked what he was up to later. He didn’t know, so I told him to come down to the studio to play a bit. "I never thought you’d ask," he said, grabbed his guitar and harmonica and took a cab.”

Has he tried to get you into soul and rhythm'n'blues?

“He hasn’t tried to force it on me, if that’s what you think. But he has played me a lot of stuff I hadn’t heard before. And now that I think about it, most of it has been soul and R&B.”

On Oasis' two albums, the influences of black dance music, old and new, Motown or Def Jam, have so far been absent. But unlike a band like Blur, who, despite the disco beat in "Girls & Boys", have always sounded starkly white and most likely always will, Oasis has always had a groove to their music, a pitch-black rock’n’roll groove. It doesn’t really matter whether or not Noel has a complete Stax collection on his shelf because he doesn’t need one. I’m just surprised he doesn’t. Because in a way, it would’ve made perfect sense.

Noel knows his pop history well enough that he shouldn’t have been ignorant of Aretha, Marvin, Stevie, and Al. But somehow, he is. There are those who claim that Oasis’ “Whatever” and “Cast No Shadow” sound more like an underproduced Tears For Fears and there are those who think that “Roll With It” doesn't remind them of Status Quo at all, but of the Tom Robinson Band. I can’t say that they’re wrong. In fact, I think it’s actually pretty spot-on in some ways. And the opening track on “Morning Glory” is a simple and unfiltered tribute to Slade. On that, we can all agree.

Which is exactly why soul music should be an inevitable detour for Oasis. At least for Noel.

“There’s something to that. Thinking about what I admire in other artists, and what they, in turn, love, whether we’re talking about Marriott, Lennon, or Weller, it will almost certainly be heard on the next album. Most of all, I think it’ll be clear that the more soulful, Black side of the Small Faces has made a big impression on me lately. They were just really fucking good, and once you start reading about them and really listening to everything they did, you can’t help but be influenced by it. I’d never really listened to Steve Marriott’s voice before, and it’s only now that I’ve realized how Black he sounded. And that’s probably going to show in what we do. So yeah, I think the next record will be more soulful, and I think it’s going to be fucking great.”

Noel laughs as he says this. Partly to take the downplay a confident statement, but also to emphasize that it’s going to be easy. And that he means it.

“I actually think “Morning Glory” is more soul-inspired than “Definitely Maybe”, so we’re already heading in that direction. At least I think so. But you never know what’ll happen.”

Do you feel like you’re competing with anyone else, or with something other than what you’ve already done?

“You mean Blur?”

No, not really.

“Good, because they don’t inspire me to do anything. One way or the other. I’m not going to say that we’re cutting-edge or groundbreaking because we’re not, and I know that as well as anyone. The Beatles did it all the time. From "Love Me Do" to "I, Me, Mine", they were always doing something new, always pushing the boundaries of what was possible. But the Stones never really did, and that's why I can relate to them more than to the Beatles. Just like the Stones, there’ll surely come a time when we want to and need to experiment, but until that day, we’re just going to crank the fucking volume, get drunk and play rock’n’roll, that’s all.”

Noel is done with the interview. Almost immediately, he walks out to a waiting taxi going to Primrose Hill, which is just a couple of hundred meters away from his current location. The rest of the band, apart from the Gallagher brothers, is already there. They’re to be photographed for the cover of "Wonderwall". Noel likes being photographed up on Primrose Hill.

This is where the Stones posed for Gerard Mankowitz on the cover of “Between the Buttons”, and it’s where Bob Freeman photographed John, Paul, George, and Ringo several times as they, seemingly carefree, jumped five feet into the air.

Just before Noel runs off, Liam walks past our table. He listens to his older brother’s monologue. And once big brother is gone, he makes sure to get the last word.

“If the music makes you feel good, then everything’s okay. We’re not Jesus, but we do everything for the right reasons. We’re honest. We mean it. Nothing that happens with this band surprises me, no matter how big we get. Because we deserve it.”

#ummmm robbie????

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