Ruling Asses

During the last year, other things have disrupted the work. First, McCarroll was canned and is now suing the band for unfair dismissal. "He's being a dickhead about things, so he can fuck right off," says Liam. "We never knocked about with him. We weren't mates. He was just a lad who could drum. We needed a better drummer, so we got one. Even if he was our mate, it wouldn't matter. He wasn't a good drummer, and that's the point." (McCarroll could not be reached for comment.)

Enter Alan White, a mild, likable London native who once walked out of an Oasis concert because he was unhappy with the drumming. White met with Noel on a Sunday, appeared on the weekly British television show Top of the Pops on Wednesday and began recording Morning Glory the following weekend. "We went out for a beer, came back and had a jam, and that was it," says White. "I thought they'd be a bunch of nutses, but they weren't, really."

Then just when the retooled band was about to embark on yet another tour, McGuigan suffered a bout of nervous exhaustion that left him unable to leave his bed except to crawl to the bathroom on his hands and knees. It was a frightening scenario, especially since McGuigan is not your typical candidate for nervous exhaustion. In fact, he possesses a level of activity that would make Buddha look like a speed freak. During the two days on the video set, he rarely leaves the same chair, rolling joint after joint and speaking in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't really do anything," says McGuigan. "I don't fight now, but I used to be a bad one, just punching people. I used to have a temper, but I don't no more. I changed. Now I just sit in the corner and light up. Watching football is my main hobby. Watching football, watching videos about football, reading about football and talking about football. That's pretty much all I care about."

While McGuigan was incapacitated, Oasis recruited another bassist, who played a handful of shows with the group in the United States before quitting. That led to a tour cancellation until McGuigan could get himself slowly up and running again.

"Things were going too fast," says Arthurs, back at the pub with a pint in hand. "Guigs' leaving made us all sit down. Reality check. We didn't see that coming."

Arthurs leans back in his chair as a band crew member sets three more pints of beer on the table. The subject is changed to why a plethora of Manchester bands — Charlatans U.K., Stone Roses, Happy Mondays, Inspiral Carpets — were considered the next big thing, only to fall flat on their faces.

Liam scoots up in his chair: "Wanna know why? Wanna know why? Wanna know why? They weren't scary, any of 'em." But really, is Oasis all that scary? Liam smiles. "Yeah. We're scary enough."

With that, Arthurs abruptly grabs the tape recorder, tilts forward to place it under him and farts loudly into the microphone. Liam in turn laughs like he has just seen the queen with fucking ten tits.

"Half the time I can't think anything valid to say, so I just say the most outrageous thing I can," Noel says.

Apparently, Noel can't think of anything at all to say. At the moment he is wielding a bottle of champagne like a weapon, spraying it across the stage over his band mates and into the attentive audience. It is the Brits' grand finale, the Best Group award, and Oasis have captured yet another trophy.

To offer a little perspective on the voting committee's taste, Bon Jovi beat out Green Day, Foo Fighters, Garbage and TLC for Best International Group. Still, no one in the auditorium doubts Oasis' British dominance. Just two days ago, predicting this very outcome, Noel vented about the very bands he is now showering with alcohol.

"I'm in the best band, and I've just written the best album," said Noel. "So as far as I'm concerned, everybody can" — all together now — "fuck right off. Those other bands are not even in a position to string my guitar at the moment. Fucking wankers, all of 'em."

Noel laughed loudly and then waited a long moment. "But I mean it, man. Do people really think that on the back of our success, these other British bands are going to go to America and be successful? That ain't gonna fucking happen."

True enough. While a few bands are beginning to have modest success in America (Elastica, Radiohead), it hardly warrants the exhaustive hype about a nouveau British Invasion. Those groups certainly haven't been able to knock Oasis off their home perch. Tonight, Oasis have virtually swept the Brit Awards, shutting out their arch-rivals, Blur (whose chief crime seems to be singing about Britain's middle class), and tweaking the interest and ire of the country's press by first agreeing and then refusing to play at the ceremonies.

According to Noel, the next two months are of supreme importance to Oasis. You see, Noel is a Gemini, and he believes this is an important factor in understanding why his songwriting skills often lay dormant during most of the year and flower during spring. During the past few years, he has written the bulk of the band's songs from March to late May, after which they are handed over to the rest of the band when it assembles in the studio.

"Sadly, that's the way it is," says Noel. "I can't make no bones about that. I'm in charge. They don't give a shit anyway, those four."

Oasis' attitude seems to be, if it sounds like the Beatles, record it; when in doubt, defer to Noel; and whenever possible, draw attention to yourself. Unlike many American bands that crave success without public scrutiny, Oasis are nostalgic for earlier times, when rock stars were congratulated for doing lines of cocaine off groupies' stomachs before throwing TV sets through hotel windows. Rather than anonymity, Oasis long for constant adulation.

"I nearly got ripped to pieces in Italy by about 2,000 people, so I guess it's bye bye freedom," says Noel with an ear-to-ear grin. "This will all pass in about five or six years. We have the rest of our lives to sit around our houses and be inconspicuous. Now is our time. We're in the eye of the hurricane now, and one day it's going to blow out. We'll look back in our late thirties, no worries, and we'll still be able to get together and say, 'We were good, man. In fact, we were the best. And this is what we built.' As for now, it's a small price to pay."

But is it all to limiting sometimes, this life that exists only within the confines of Oasis? Noel claims he could have the same kind of success without the other members — "Good music is good music," he says — but recently he turned down an offer of nearly $800,000 to write the music for the film The Crow II on his own, insisting that if he has songs to write, they should be for Oasis.

"Who wants a life outside of Oasis?" says Noel. "Without music, there would be no point in being around. I'm not sayin' I'd kill meself, but if I got my hand chopped off in a car crash, I'd have to have music. It's everything. It's the be-all and end-all of my life. Fuck art. Drawing pictures — big deal. And I don't read. I sometimes read books about groups, but I can't read fictional books. Somebody telling a story — how boring."

Forget mentioning that there might be people out there who find the practice of writing songs boring or that recent history is littered with the carcasses of British bands that purported to be bigger than the Beatles. There's a good chance Noel's just spouting off anyway, acting obnoxious for want of anything worthwhile to say. After all, it works. Just ask his brother.

Liam, do you ever get sick of being full of shit?

"No," answers Liam immediately and without taking offense. "I love hearing myself talk."

[From Issue 733 — May 2, 1996]