Iain Robertson - Oasis: Whats The Story

The artist has also an introverted disposition and has not far to go to become neurotic. He is one who is urged on by his instinctual needs which are too clamorous

S IGMUND F REUD

LIFE ON THE ROAD is obviously not the same as working in a bank, a shop, a garage or anything, in fact, that might be said to give you a proper job. Life and work inside the cocoons that protect societys idols and icons is other than this: life at the centre of the Oasis phenomenon that bleeds across the planet is other than other than this.

Even so, I knew I wasnt having an ordinary day when Liam landed a jarring blow to the side of my head in the middle of a Parisian boulevard as traffic careered around us left and right. There had been earlier clues: his throwing himself from the record company Mercedes as it raced through the same boulevards a definite sign that all was less than normal, even in such an abnormal world. On the other hand, casting furniture around a restaurant in protest at having to share radio time with the highly talented cross-dressing comedian Eddie Izzard well, that was typical. I can forgive myself for not seeing then how my day was shaking out. Had I been the seventh son of a seventh son, my psychic antennae would have been hissing like a rattlesnakes arse when, not ten minutes after checking in, the French riot police taped off our hotel after a terrorist bomb threat. No bomb was found, but a Mancunian incendiary device was there, sure enough, informing the French press of his omnipotence, lashing back vodka and orange and ticking like a motherfucker. Liam Gallagher was primed to blow.

Ask Noel, Bonehead, Guigsy or Alan where Liam is and you will inevitably be asked, Which one? In fact, ask anyone who really knows him and theyll tell you that, at any given time, there is a multitude of different personalities fighting for space behind the expressionless eyes. God only knows how he lives in that head I couldnt. Unfortunately for me, in the role I played as road manager, minder and all things filed under miscellaneous, getting into Liams head and channelling the poison was part of the job and was, unquestionably, the hardest part. How could I process his chaos in order to enable him to interface with an unsuspecting world?

It was September 1995 and we were in Paris to fulfil an important, but fairly leisurely, press and promotion commitment. Present: band members Liam, Guigsy and Alan; myself from the Oasis inner circle; Linda Gibson from the record company. Linda brought willowy good looks and a corporate credit card; both had become pliable and essential features of these trips abroad. At this point, I figured the plastic was more flexible. Not my first mistake, but a big one.

* * *

Today is a good day God knows its certainly better than packing underpants into boxes in Scunthorpe. We settle back in a first-class carriage on the Eurostar, worrying about whether champagne or Chablis would be more appropriate with the grilled salmon. It is out of the question that a chain of events has begun that will lead to a founder member of the band breaking down, and to my own departure from the Oasis camp.

The old town looks the same as we step down from the train and there to meet us is Michel, record-company executive and possessor of yet another credit card to play with. A mercenary attitude? I freely put up my hand. After ten years spent working with bands, Ive realised that so much is recoupable and that the musicians are often not as lucky or long-lasting as their crew. However, you can bet on the record companies remaining wealthy. I firmly believe that, when the opportunity presents itself, make the label dig into its pockets: for the artist, this is probably the one ride on the carousel. Its a savage industry and corporate money is seldom anything more than a Trojan horse.