DISGRACELAND - Oasis Pt. 1: Hooliganism, Hedonism, Rock Star Anthems and the “Greatest Rock ‘N’ Roll Band on the Planet”

Episode Date: March 30, 2021

Few bands have come from as little and made as much of themselves as Oasis. Along the way they were wildly entertaining — unlike anything England or the United States had ever seen — and fully committed to the life of the rock star and to making the greatest rock ‘n’ roll music the world had ever heard. Through it all they famously fought, with fans, with police and with each other. They drank excessively and did copious amounts of drugs and didn’t care who knew about it. They were England’s new rock ‘n’ roll saviors and they were stacked with Beatlesesque hooks and Sex Pistols-inspired attitude and seemingly, always, on the verge of breaking up. This episode was originally published on March 30, 2021. To see the full list of contributors, see the show notes at ⁠www.disgracelandpod.com⁠. To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to a monthly exclusive episode, weekly bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at ⁠disgracelandpod.com/membership⁠. Visit ⁠www.disgracelandpod.com/merch⁠ to see the latest Disgraceland merch! Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - ⁠GET THE NEWSLETTER⁠ Follow Jake and DISGRACELAND: ⁠Instagram⁠ ⁠YouTube⁠ ⁠X⁠ (formerly Twitter)  ⁠Facebook Fan GroupSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Double Elvis. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed I will be his last target. He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends.

Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that.

David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things, Tana Monsu, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts,

or wherever you get your podcasts. Movies can make you feel, make you dream. Sometimes they even make you appreciate architecture. Is there anybody who's been hotter in a doorway than Elizabeth Taylor? That's the kind of analysis you'll find every week on Dear Movies I Love You, the new podcast from the Exactly Right Network. Every Tuesday, we break down the films we're crushing on, from blockbusters to deep cuts. Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Disgrace Land is a production of Double Elvis. The stories about Oasis are insane. They started riots, sank Rolls-Royces in swimming pools, physically attacked the police officers, publicly brawled with each other and rival pop stars. They committed to a life of hooliganism and hedonism, and vandalized, robbed, stole, and drugged their way around the boredom of youth. Raised in Manchester, England's Council Estates Public Housing, Oasis's bandleader Noel Gallagher and his younger brother Liam were determined to become the greatest rock and roll band on the planet. And remarkably, despite or perhaps because of their humble beginnings, they were able

to achieve that goal. Through it all, they made great music, anthems, pure pop, instant classics. And that music you heard at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my Melotron called MeloSwag Lager, MK1. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to everything I do, I do it for you by Brian Adams. And why would I play you that specific slice of Prince of Thieves cheese, could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on August 18, 1991. And that was the day Oasis took the stage for the very first time at the boardwalk club in Manchester and changed the face of English pop music forever.

On this episode, hooligans and hedonist, swagy logger. and instant classics, the 100% committed and endlessly entertaining Gallagher brothers in Oasis. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is disgrace land. There were no screams, just cold chatter, German, hushed, but angry. In the background, a random shout here or there from a prisoner. A detective or a uniform barking orders, but back here, back in the pen, it was mostly quiet. And as far as the prisoner was concerned, there was no concern. He was out.

Had been out since they piled him in the back of the cruiser. He had it coming. He was sauced. Handcuffs weren't enough. The nightstick, the butt of the gun, the pound of the clenched fist, whatever it was, who really knew. It was so chaotic it did the trick. Knocked the drunk, raving lunatic out cold. They dragged his lanky body in through the back, up the stairs, inside the double doors,

and into the first cell they could find. The last cell on the Munich Police Department's block, separated from the rest of the department. Back here, there were screams. They had a better chance of going unnoticed. The big cop couldn't wait to get into it. He was the one who caught the drunk's trainer in his ribs. A sharp, hard kick delivered from the drunk's right foot. It smashed the bottom of the big cop's lower right rib and damned if it wasn't broken. But he'd worked that out later. For now, he'd fight through the pain for payback. They held the drunk down on the floor of the cell. The big cop, all six feet five inches, all 250 pounds,

they'd rank him 18 stone back in Manchester. He kneeled on the floor above the drunk's head and put his massive mitts on his shoulders, pressed him into the cement floor, and then, with one hand, mitted the crown of the drunk's head, pulling it back toward him like he was opening a pez dispenser. The drunk's mouth opened in the process.

The other cop, the rookie, eager to impress. press, kneeled down on the drunk's chest. He took the pliers and into the mouth of the drunk who was still out cold. The rookie cop latched the pliers onto the drunk's upper front tooth. That wouldn't do. Not enough leverage. So the rookie cop stood up with one foot on the ground and the other on the drunk's shoulder, just to the right of the big cop's big mitt. The rookie then bent over into a bit of a runner's squat and got the leverage he needed. He was able to firmly fasten the pliers onto of the tooth. The rookie gripped the pliers with two hands like he was holding a rope in a tug of war. The big cop looked up at him, his eyes wide, angry, excited. He nodded to the rookie who,

who in one powerful pull, yanked the pliers downward, ripping out clean the drunk's upper front tooth. Vengeance was exhilarating and near complete. One more tooth to go. The drunk moaned a bit, and the big cop quickly knocked them back into La La Land with a swift smack, and they weren't done. One tooth wasn't enough. Not for the shit this little twad had stirred. 80 cops called into Kuel as bullshit during lunchtime, no less. The rookie got his pliers around the drunk's other front tooth. Again, the big cop bared down on the drunk shoulder while holding back his head, gave the rookie the nod and once more a quick, forceful pull, and the second top tooth was gone as well. Ripped clean out.

And they were done. Both cops were satisfied, and the drunk, the singer, and one of the biggest bands in the world at the time, Liam Gallagher of Oasis was still passed out, obliterated, wasted, and now toothless and lying prone on the floor of a Munich jail cell. A couple hours earlier, Liam was bored, at the table in the Bay of Risherhof Hotel,

drinking another in an endless stream of midday pints before the gig that night. He was thinking about Mike Somerby. Fucking legend. Summerby brought home multiple trophies for Manchester City's football club, the Sky Blues, way before Liam's time, but regardless, a legend. And a fan of Oasis, as he fucking 8 right should have been just like everyone else with ties to Manchester. Or with ties to anywhere, really. Oasis were the greatest band on the planet.

Topps, the kids, the critics, other bands, they were all mad for it, so why wouldn't Mike Somerby be as well? Supposedly, Noel, Liam's older brother and bandmate, and by all means the leader of Oasis, remembered seeing Summerby play, but not Liam. He was too young. But he did get to know Summerby a little bit. It was that time back in 95 or 96 at the height of Oasis Mania when the band had dinner with Summerby and some other ex-city players. Summerby was dead funny, and apropos of whom knew what the fuck,

he turned to Liam Noel and the rest of the assembled dinner party and blurt it out. You know, lads, I can't do it anymore. Someone asked, can't do what anymore, Mike? Mike then deadpanned. drink five bottles of wine and shag all night. Liam thought that was funny. Not because it was easy to see how that was true.

How a man who'd lived through his prime some 30 years earlier was finding it hard to live the rock and roll star lifestyle in his mid-50s, but that it was funny that Mike would give up, give up the thrill of it. Wasn't that what it was all about? Going for it? Fucking committed to live the life the way it was supposed to be lived, fast, hard, without two fucks given,

leaving it all in the pitch to a mad dash toward glory, Wasn't that the ultimate goal? Fuck, yes, it was, so swap the wine for lager in five pints, and an all-night shagg sounded right for Liam Gallagher. Even now, in 2002, a half-decade removed from his band's meteoric rise in subsequent white-hot fame. At the table in the Beresher-Hawf Hotel restaurant on that afternoon in Munich, Summerbee's comments seemed a lifetime removed,

but they were top of mind when the argument started. Over what Liam couldn't remember. It was amongst friends, band-maid's crew, at their table. It got heated, everyone was drunk, and this was not out of the norm. Someone shoved someone else, someone lost their balance on their chair and fell into the table of Italians sitting next to them. Someone shouted, someone else shouted, then came the insult, sharp, loud, hysterical, no doubt. The Italians couldn't take a joke. Their birds were clearly offended. Their lads peeped, machismo gassing their engines. They pounced, Liam's squad went full

hooligan in retaliation, instant melee, fist, kicks, glasses being thrown, glasses being dodged, Waiters dropping trays, waitresses shrieking back into the kitchen. Liam watched it all unfold in slow motion before him. This was how the great ones saw it, out on the pitch and the fury of the match's final moments, when the pressure was most intense. It all slowed down for them, for Summerby, for Colin Bell, for all the greats. When the game got most intense, their determination, their focus, brought everything around them down about 11 notches.

And while their opponents trudged through molasses, powerless to stop them, The committed ones, the greats, men like him, like Liam Gallagher, thrived, easily spotted their route, saw their angles, knew how to weave through defenses, and when to take their shot. Amidst the melee, Liam sat in his chair, watching bodies flail about. He felt two hands grab his shoulders and pull him up and back quickly out of his seat. There in front of him, falling from the sky from the balcony of the restaurant directly above him, a glass table came crashing down onto the very same glass table he was just sitting at. Liam held focus on the chaos in front of him.

There, in the middle of the dining room, one of the many cops who quickly descended upon the scene was holding down one of Liam's bandmates, trying to handcuff him, struggling, despite his mammoth size, to keep down the wiring musician. Between the struggle and Liam was a sea of hooligan chaos, overturned tables, broken glass, food, tossed chairs,

felled bodies, scrambling staff. Liam took off from the clutches of his own security who'd rescued him from the falling table and broke away through the hotel restaurant. There goes Gallagher on the breakaway, away from the tussle, getting away from the defender. He's got a way to go, but he's nicked himself apart with great skill, excellent control. He avoids a defender from his left, another from his right.

We're seeing what he's really made up here, ladies and gentlemen. He's got his sights on the goal. The big lad, the big cop, kneeling over his mate. Here comes Gallagher with the boot, an absolute cracker to the back of the net, straight into the copper's ribs, sending him flailing about, making way for Gallagher's goal. Classic counterattack.

After Liam kicked the cop square in the rib cage, sending him reeling, another cop knocked Liam unconscious, just after he'd completed his violent Somerby imitation. When he awoke hours later in that Munich cell, handcuffed with his two upper front teeth missing, the cops told him he lost them when he tripped up the steps to the station. But Liam was no dummy, despite what the British tabloid said.

He could tell. The teeth were pulled clean out, not smashed in as they would have been, had he fallen on cement as the police were trying to convince him was the case. Fucking Munich. Liam had seen Marathon, man. He knew what was up. The cops, of course, denied it, and who cared anyway, really.

Liam Gallagher, Alan White, the band's drummer, and their tour DJ, Phil Smith, were all arrested and justifiably so. They were indeed responsible for that melee back at the hotel, and the result meant that their show in Munich that night had to be canceled. And Liam's brother Noel, absent from the fracas that day, with a brother out of jail and under the dentist gun, was left to cool his jets, to stew, to do what came natural to him, to pick up his guitar and put melodies to chord progressions, like he'd always done, big anthemic melodies, the kind of galvanized football stadiums, the kind that rocked ecstasy-fueled dance clubs, the kind that dominated charts, the kind that rocketed him and his brother out of poverty and into rock startup, the kind that would be able to. give one a sense of invincibility, the kind of melodies that live forever, the kind of songs he committed to writing back in Manchester's Council Flats, just a few short years ago. There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that trust your girlfriends. I'm Anna Sinfield. And in this new season,

of the girlfriends. Oh my God, this is the same man. A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me? The cops didn't seem to care. So they take matters into their own hands.

I said, oh, hell no. I vowed. I will be his last target. He's going to get what he deserves. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. cross. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity

is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro. And these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of family secrets. And just then, we felt the plain turn in the air, so much so that the bags that were under people's seats just kind of flew into the aisle. Each week, we dive headfirst into the complex power of secrecy. how it shapes our identities and relationships, and how it ultimately can reveal to us our truest selves. My daughter, she's pretending she doesn't know, but is trying to cook and feed me and keep me alive

because I wasn't eating anything, and me pretending like everything was fine. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door, and he jumped in a car and drove off, and that was the last time I saw him. Listen to season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts,

or wherever you get your podcast. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever, my first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary. I wake up and I'm hitting him in the head with a water bomb.

And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance like he's about to attend. attack me, like, making karate noises. And his entire the Kardashians family over there, everybody's going, and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. I immediately know that I've been asleep walking. David O'Yelloo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts.

Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kidman broke up with Keith Thurban. Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting. I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things. Tena Monsu. Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the Iheart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. There were rules. You could drink and do all the drugs.

you wanted, but if you couldn't handle your shit on stage, you were out of the band. You could pick up with whichever bird you fancied, but if she prevented you from getting to rehearsal or to the gig, then she was out. And if you were going to get all arst about it, you'd be out too. You could play an oasis and play oasis songs, but you could not write them. That was Noll's job alone, and if that didn't suit you, then you could fuck off back to your mom's couch. You could work whatever job you wanted, rob whatever house or shop you wanted, sign on to the dole if you had to. There was no shame in that. Become time for band practice, you are either there six nights a week or you are out. Fuck off back to digging ditches full time. This wasn't a hobby. It was a band. Not only a band,

a commitment to being the biggest, greatest fucking rock and roll band of all time. As good as the greats, bigger and better than their local heroes, the Stone Roses, equals to the jam, heirs to Johnny Mars Smiths, ascendants to take their seats ahead of the Who at the table of John Paul Ringo and that nipple George. Do it Noel, said, show up and give a fuck when it came to music and nothing else, and his songs would take care of the rest. Noll's commitment to his band was absolute, and so too would his bandmates, and that included his arrogant cunt of her brother Liam, dickhead. Noll's vision for his band wasn't so much planned as it was felt. It was innate, and it stemmed back to his days in

Manchester as a youth. Four years old with his dad at Main Road Soccer Stadium, the hallowed ground where Manchester City's sky blues hovered above the drudgery of working-class Manchester, England. Noel Gallagher sat amongst two thousand other kids stashed away in the stands by their fathers who fucked off to the stadium's bars. And it was here that one of the cornerstones of Noel Gallagher's songwriting was cemented by the raucous sound of Man City's goal celebrations. Thunders, rolls of noise from the bounce of stadium attendees pogging out of their seats and erupting into song whenever City found the back of the net. A full-throated community-wide chorus of the working class united in their support of and commitment to their club.

Warring their team's chants, Boys in Blue Blue were really not here. 1962 and the showstopper, Blue Moon. And not in the lame-ass Rogers and Hart style that Elvis Presley popularized with his fall setup. At Main Road, Blue Moon was shouted, staccato style, a sort of pre-punk gang vocal being hammered out by 35,000 strong. It was simple, easy to latch on to, anthemic, fucking epic. Noel Gallagher would never forget it.

Nor would he forget the house music anthems, pummeling, keyed-up ecstasy crowds at Manchester's Hacienda Club in the late 80s and early 90s when he came of age. Voodoo Ray by a guy called Gerald, you got the love by the source with candy station, bangers, and just as influential as anything he'd heard from the Manchester music scene prior to the house music explosion. An earlier scene that led naturally to Manchester House

and appeal to Noll in no small part due to the disaffected cool of the Stone Roses with their anthem I Want to be adored, and the infectious melodies of the Laws with their earworm hit, there she goes. Together with the usual UK classic rock curriculum that every young aspirational rock-and-roll songwriter finds their way to, the Beatles, the Stones, the Who, the Kings, and for Noel in particular, deeper into the sounds of Manchester and London via the Smiths and the Jam, respectively, These anthemic influences clashed inside of him with the pub sing-alongs that were his Irish Catholic family's lineage. Anthems were his birthright. He could lay claim to them as justifiably as John or Paul or Mar or Weller,

and with the hardness afforded those who came up in the crime and violence of Manchester's Council of States, who was going to deny him. Nobody. That's who. By the time Noel Gallagher picked up a guitar with a serious mind to write his own songs, he had organically amassed an arsenal with songwriting influences, and it showed. From the first batch of songs that he would write and that would wind up on Oasis's first demo, his younger brother Liam's band that he would join as the final member and foremost leader of the group,

there were multiple songs that would go on to become anthems. Columbia, with its infectious lyric, I can't tell you the way I feel, because the way I feel is so damn new to me. And of course, rock and roll star. I live my life in the city, and there's no. no easy way out. It was a shotgun blast of a track, an instant anthem, that would cement the Oasis demo as a classic and lead to their signing with creation records. Rock and Roll Star would eventually kick off the band's debut album, definitely maybe, an album that would announce the

arrival of the Gallagher Brothers with absolute authority and absolute chaos. We'll be right back after this word, word, word. There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that, trust your girlfriends. I'm Anna Sinfield, and in this new season of the girlfriends, Oh my God, this is the same man.

A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me? The cops didn't seem to care. So they take matters into their own hands. They said, oh, hell no. I vowed. I will be his last target.

He's going to get what he deserves. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history.

I'm Danny Shapiro. And these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring the 14th season of family secrets. And just then, we felt the plain turn in the air, so much so that the bags that were under people's seats just kind of flew into the aisle. Each week, we dive head first into the complex power of secrecy, how it shapes our identities and relationships,

and how it ultimately can reveal to us our truest selves. My daughter, she's pretending she doesn't know, but is trying to cook and feed me and keep me alive because I wasn't eating anything and me pretending like everything was fine. He kind of showed me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off. And that was the last time I saw him. Listen to season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts,

or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When, like, young people come off to me, want to be an act or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you would rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary. I wake up and I'm hitting him in the head with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance like he's about to attack me. Like, making karate noises. And his entire the Kardashian family over there, everybody's going,

and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. And I, I immediately know that I've been at sleepwalk. David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kidman broke up with Keith Thurban. Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting.

I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaiton moderato. from Stranger Things. Tana Monsu. Camilla Marone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more.

Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Owen Morris, the mix engineer, sat in the recording studio

waiting to meet the Brothers Gallagher. He was either the second or third engineer brought in a mix, definitely maybe, Oasis's debut album for creation records.

Owen wasn't sure about this meeting. What he was sure of was that if Oasis didn't get this right, there would likely be no Oasis. The mix was underwhelming. There was no snarl, no bite, and the energy was fucked, overthought, overproduced. Where was that notorious Mancunian attitude that Owen had heard so much about? The word from Oasis management was that Owen could do whatever he wanted, literally,

anything he wanted to do to save the album. His first order of business was to re-record Liam's vocals. That meant he'd need to meet the volatile young singer first. so he was anxious. The control room door burst open and Liam Gallagher stormed inside with his brother Noel behind him, on time, ready to work.

Liam Gallagher walks, dick first. His groin thrusts out ahead of the rest of his body. His long, gangly arms swayed behind him. His body is perpetually leaning backward. When he's moving, it's as if he's clearly going somewhere, but also as if he could care less if he ever arrives. His dick gets into the room before the rest of him does, and you notice,

You also notice that when he's standing still, or not walking, I should say, because he's never really standing still, he's always moving at least a little bit, a short pace in place, his head bobbing around, his eyes sizing everyone and everything around him up. But I digress. When Liam Gallagher is standing and talking to someone, he always appears as though he's about to haul off and punch whoever he's talking to square in the face. His pretty looks aside, Liam Gallagher is a tightly wound ball of kinetic energy set to unfurl in violence at any moment. Owen Marr has picked up on the vibe immediately. Offstage, Liam Gallagher appeared to be exactly as he was on stage, a raving lunatic of a frontman.

Classic. Liam skipped any introductions and got right to the matter, pointing his finger at Owen and proclaiming immediately that, you're Phil Spector, and then hitching his thumb toward his chest and finishing his point with, and I'm John Lennon. Noel spoke up quickly. You were not fucking John Lennon and he is not Phil Spector,

now just shut the fuck up and get on with it. And get on with it. it they did. Owen Morris stripped down the mix and Liam Gallagher put in some quick visceral vocal takes and the album was well on its way to its proper mix into serving its purpose as the vessel necessary to transport oasis to rock stardom. But first, before any proper release, there was a gig to play in Amsterdam. Young rock bands, especially those who can feel their assent to becoming rock stars, have one common enemy, idle time. After they reach rock stardom, idle time usually results in self-destructive behavior, heavy, addictive drug use, deadly car crashes, that sort of thing.

But before rock stardom, idle time for the ascendant rock star results in a different type of destructive behavior, the kind that is aimed outward, out at the world. Because after all, every good young rock band knows that it's them against the world. They also know if there are any good and have any type of sand at all that at that moment in time, no matter what stage they're on, no matter what band they're following, no matter who was in the audience that night, that they are the greatest fucking rock and roll band on the planet. And they also know that no matter what street they're walking down or what room they happen to find themselves in or what bar they're drinking at,

that they are fucking rock stars. Any challenge to either belief or threat to their self-perceived inevitable conclusion, world domination, is to be met with one type of reaction. Ultra violence. This isn't a strategy. This isn't thought out. This isn't determined in band meetings after fucking band rehearsals every third Saturday of the month when the missus lets you out of the house to head down to your old schoolmate's garage to bang around Pete Townsend,

riffs smashed too many pints of lager and ignore your expanding waistline. These are facts. They are felt innately. There is no denying them. Your band is the greatest. The world will soon know it. It is an inevitability. Idle time both fuels and affords the ascendant rock star these beliefs,

especially young rock stars as committed as oasis were, and even more so, when endless pints of lager, Jack Daniels, and champagne are involved. And that's exactly what was involved as Oasis set sail to Amsterdam for their first overseas gig back in 1994. And they were completely sossed before they even arrived at the ferry, having quickly down two bottles of Jack Daniels on the bus ride over. Once on the ferry, they hit up the duty-free, stole numerous bottles of champagne,

and then brazenly popped them at the bar with that look on their faces and said, What the fuck are you going to do about it? Idle time. The ferry was inexplicably packed with Chelsea Football Club supporters who were sporadically erupting in their team's chance to keep the blue flag flying high. Somehow, a fight broke out amongst the supporters, a fight that in its early stages at least didn't involve Oasis.

But that would change soon enough. Liam Gallagher and Oasis Basis, Gwigsie, were actually heading to their room, wasted, about to get some rest before arriving in Amsterdam for their gig when all hell broke loose. It was one of those moments where everything is one way, normal, and then, in an instant, everything changes to the complete opposite with zero explanation. There were Chelsea football supporters screaming, running about every which way, tourists ducking for cover, scurrying back to their rooms, trying to avoid the melee. And then a security guard tearing ass straight toward a clueless Liam with his truncheon held high above his head about to bring it smashing down into Gwigsie Singer's head.

No way, not in this lifetime. Gwigsie, without thinking twice, hauled off and punched the guards straight in the face, saving his singer from an unsuspecting wallop and who knows what kind of damage. Immediately, a gang of security guards tackled Gwigsie and began beating the piss out of him. Liam screwed off as fast as he could, straight into the man, head first into the brawling Chelsea supporters, throwing fist, kicks, whatever he could add to the chaos to lash out, to protect himself, to get even for Gwigsie who was getting walloped at the moment.

And the guards at the top deck of the ferry wrangled Liam. soon enough. They dragged him into the stairs and threw him violently down to the waiting security on the second floor, who picked him up, dragged him to another flight of stairs, and then threw him down again to the first floor where he was thrown into the brig with Gwigsie. One of the guards held Liam down on the floor in the cell while another drew a chalk outline of his body. They rolled him over face first onto the floor within the chalk outline and informed the singer that if he moved outside of the lines, they pound him with their truncheons. And there he remained for the next three hours. His and his band members' passports were confiscated. When they arrived in Amsterdam,

they were quickly deported. Needless to say, Oasis's first overseas gig was cancelled. Noel Gallagher, the band's leader, had the unfortunate responsibility of ringing up their record label boss, Alan McGee of Creation Records, and telling him about what had happened. Alan, are you sitting down? I've got some news. Everybody has been arrested. Alan McGee answers sharply with one word. Brilliant. Liam Gallagher was waiting on the side of the stage to make his appearance. His brother Noel was already on stage with the rest of the band.

He was bending the opening notes of rock and roll star out of his Gibson-Less Paul. The rest of the band was filling in behind him. The crowd in front of the stage at the small club outside London that Oasis was headlining was pitched to lose their shit in anticipation for this new notorious band of pop star hooligans from Manchester. Waiting in the wings, Liam Gallagher said to his Rody while nodding toward his brother on stage, he's good, isn't he? Fucking great, the Rody replied. Yeah, Liam said, but not as good as this. And then sauntered on stage to ravenous applause. The snare picked the tune up and kicked the band in just as Liam appeared and Oasis were off on a tear and the crowd were mad for it as

Liam would say as Liam would expect tonight they were rock and roll stars fucking a right that belief that self-confidence that commitment to the bit that snarl that attitude and those fucking songs hits prior to the release of their debut album one music rag plastered the band across their cover under the headline never mind the bullocks here's the sex Beatles and they weren't wrong at least not in the moment. Everything was in place to make that bold proclamation true. The bid on the ferry over to the Netherlands and subsequent press interviews by the Gallagher brothers

had the UK hyped for the release of Oasis's debut album, and you could hardly blame them with what Noel and Liam were delivering. They were unvarnished, highly comical, highly entertaining quote machines, and unlike anything the UK press or record buying public had seen since, well, the sex pistols or the Beatles. During their first televised interview, Noel in dark sunglasses to mask the effects of the ecstasy he was on, was asked, How as being famous affected your friends, Noel?

I haven't seen my mates in about six months apart from the ones at work for us. The interviewer pressed, Do you get your friends to work for you so you can tour around in a big group? Noel replied, if we didn't have them working for us, they'd be burgling our houses, so it's best to have them with us. Soon after, both respected UK music mags, NME and Melodymaker, made Oasis's second single, Shaker Maker, their respective singles of the week. Melody Maker doubled down, claiming the single was one of the hundred greatest songs ever written,

and the hype machine was winding up. The band's third single, Live Forever, cracked the UK top ten, and by the time the full-length debut, definitely maybe, was released on August 29, 1994, all of the hype, all of the hard work, and the careful seating of singles by creation records, led to Oasis's first record entering the charts at number one. Quickly, very quickly, it became the fastest selling debut album of all time in the UK. Now, it was time for the band to double down. They'd arrived as they knew they would, and why the fuck not?

They had the commitment. Now it was time for the world to commit to them as they had committed to being the greatest rock stars on the planet. Time to work and time to celebrate. With every day came a new obligation, a presser, or a televised performance or a show. and always a party and then an after-party, and usually an after-after party, and of course, to make it all go, drugs. Ecstasy, as always, weed because it was weed

and cocaine because they weren't fucking students they were from Manchester. With definitely maybe selling like mad and with their live shows selling out in the UK, Paris, and elsewhere in Europe, the United States awaited to be conquered. First stop, Los Angeles, the famous whiskey a go-go on sunset strip.

The band landed at LAX and were quickly wrangled aside at customs. The customs agent asked Liam Gallagher, what's the purpose of your visit? Liam responded, in all honesty, to become a fucking rock star. I'm here to steal your soul. And then it was off to the hotel

where they were greeted by awaiting scenesters, fans, groupies, new friends, and of course, opportunistic drug dealers. At the ensuing party, someone laid the lines out, big, fat, white rails. The band, all of them and the crew, dove in head first,

idle time, be dance. And to their surprise, the cocaine they just snorted was not cocaine at all. It was the more powerful ninja speed, crystal meth. And the band were shocked but undeterred, and they dug in for more and more and then more. And they didn't sleep, and neither did the crew. They stayed up for days before their debut show at the Whiskey, a debut that had the brass from their American record label, Epic Records, all in attendance, as well as influential members of the American Music Press and, of course, hip fans,

stateside readers of enemy and melody maker in on what was about to go down. One of the best kept secrets in the music industry was about to no longer be a secret. Oasis were poised to become the first great UK band to cross over into the American mainstream since the sex pistols had almost 20 years earlier. And then, showtime. Wired from the meth, wired from no sleep. Liam was so rattled by the drug, he had to set up rails of it behind the amps to hit in between songs to keep him going. was the only one who'd gotten wise to what they were ingesting and what effects the drug might have on their music.

He was also wise to the immense pressure this gig their American debut carried. It was make or break. And the band walked on stage to a totally hyped audience. The crowd was with them at the jump. If this was any indication of things to come on their first tour, that America was firmly in the band's reach. The squawk of feedback signaled with energy the start of something thrilling and new, something sexy and world-changing.

and then OASIS turned in the worst performance of their career. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page at disgracelandpod.com. If you're listening as a Disgraceland All-Axist member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to Disgraceland. Disgracelandpod.com

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