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Post by Deleted on Feb 15, 2018 18:01:10 GMT -5
I met Liam once. I somehow got tickets for the Black Island "rehearsal" session, aka Standing on the Edge of the Noise. I remember a woman phoning me at work to say I'd got tickets, then we had to go to Paddington and coaches would take us over to the venue. It turned out to be in Acton. They took phones etc off us and we went inside. There was about 100 people there and they gave us each 3 vouchers for drinks. They played Dig Out Your Soul over the PA, then Oasis came on. It was obviously amazing. Nicole was down the front for the first part of it but soon retreated to the bar. At some point (almost definitely while Noel was singing) I went for a wee and met Maggie M on my way back in. Nice lady. I found that I was stood next to Sara during Don't Look Back In Anger. She was doing some weird dance thing to it, looked fucking ridiculous. I asked her if she was enjoying it and she looked at me like I was mental. I don't think she likes to interact with the rabble. Dick. But anyway, once we get to I Am The Walrus, I run off to the mixing desk at the back to try to get a setlist. I don't realise, but Liam wanders off once the jam on the end starts. See the video: So I get my setlist, which takes pride of place on my wall to this day: I turn around, and I'm next to a drunk as fuck Nicole. Liam walks up and sticks his tongue down her throat. After a little while he emerges and I walk up to him. I'm towering over him but I'm completely fucking starstruck by this sweaty man with the most piercing eyes I've ever seen. He puts his hand out for a shake (at this point I've completely forgotten how social interactions work and haven't offered him my hand). I say "this has been the best night of my life" and he looks at me fucking dead in the eye and says "yeah, been fucking great, mate." Then people start crowding round him and security finally notice that he's not on the stage any more, surround him, and he's off into the backstage area. So I have exchanged one sentence with Liam. But he looks you in the eye, he takes you by the hand and he gives a shit. I think the uniqueness of my story is that Oasis were still playing when I spoke to him. LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAM.
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Post by GlastoEls on Feb 15, 2018 18:07:36 GMT -5
I was about ten yards from you when that happened!
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Post by Deleted on Feb 15, 2018 18:09:42 GMT -5
I was about ten yards from you when that happened! You were probably one of the guys who got cockblocked by security
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Post by bringmethemonkey on Feb 15, 2018 21:15:42 GMT -5
That’s a great story....
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Post by Katinká Ingabogovinana on Mar 16, 2019 15:56:03 GMT -5
This is best thread in the last 50 years....
Thanks.
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Post by Lennon2217 on Mar 16, 2019 19:22:09 GMT -5
Shiiiiiiiiiiit. I totally forgot about that DOYS listening session prior to the show. People who attended posted on this forum some interesting tidbits. The one that always spring to mind was the line in Bag It Up that goes “I got my hee-bee-jee-bies hidden in a bag”. We all tought it was either down right awful lyrics or a fake review. Turns out it wasn’t as bad executed on the track.
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Post by Gas Panic on Mar 17, 2019 3:01:13 GMT -5
I grabbed Liams hand down the front at Wembley Stadium 2009 during I Am The Walrus.
That's the closest I've got to Liam or Noel in the flesh.
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Post by welshylad on Mar 17, 2019 6:43:45 GMT -5
I met him in Belfast airport in 2011. Was still off my fucking tits from the night before and hadn't slept
He was a total legend, thanking us for going to watch Beady Eye. Gave me a hug and had a photo. I then went through security with him and the rest of the band
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Post by beautifulsupernova on Mar 17, 2019 6:46:24 GMT -5
Gonna try and see him before or after the next Belfast concert, wish me luck
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Post by rpf1979 on Apr 3, 2019 13:24:32 GMT -5
Met Liam, Noel, Andy, Gem and Alan back in 2002 on the Heathen Chemistry tour. Where I live in the US, the closest city where most of the bigger bands might play is Atlanta. I saw Oasis at the Fox Theater in 1998 and was back there for a festival in 1999 (no Oasis though). Walking to where the festival was located my friends and I noticed a lot of buses outside the Ritz Carlton hotel in downtown Atlanta so we assumed that was probably where most big named bands stay in Atlanta. We told ourselves the next time Oasis plays in Atlanta we'll stake out that hotel and see if we can meet them. Fast forward a year to 2000 and turns out Oasis is playing the same festival that I attended in 1999 during the SOTSOG tour. My brother and friend get to the same hotel and see a tour bus outside so we're hoping it is for Oasis. We sat around for a few hours but decided we needed to head to the festival if we want to get close to the stage. As we're walking away on the other side of the street my friend shouts out "There is Liam!" and we turned to see Liam and Gem looking at us and they were getting onto the bus.
Talk about depressing, so close but we just missed them. My friend snapped a picture of Liam and Gem as they were getting on the bus but that was it. The gig was incredible though, we ended up on the railing right in front of Noel and I still rank that as the best concert I've ever been to. We were exhausted afterwards so waited until the morning to go back to the hotel but the bus was gone by then. So we made it our mission, next time Oasis is in Atlanta, even if the show is general admission tickets, we are waiting at that hotel until we meet them, even if it means not getting up front for the gig.
So 2002 rolls around, Oasis is touring again and playing Atlanta. We get our tickets for the show at the Tabernacle and when we get to Atlanta we head directly for the same hotel and the bus is sitting there. This time we're not moving until we get to meet them. We had been there maybe an hour when a car pulled up on the other side of the road, Noel gets out and crosses the road heading right towards where we are waiting. Talk about one of the most surreal moments of my life. We asked if we could get a picture but he said he had to go and would come back later. So little while after that, Gem, Andy and Alan all come out and we get to talk with them, get autographs and pictures. Noel comes out but gets on the bus as they head for soundcheck (I'm guessing). Little while later they come back, get off the bus and Noel, Gem, Andy and Alan are all walking up the sidewalk towards where we are standing. Again, talk about surreal. Noel stops, takes a picture with my brother, friend and me and signs a picture. The girl that was taking the picture said "I have to back up so I can get you all in there" and Noel responded "You don't need these other fuckers, just me" which was classic Noel.
Liam came out a few hours before the gig and was putting some things on the bus. We asked him for a picture and autograph, he quietly came over, signed the magazine, took the picture and got on the bus without a word. So for us it was mission accomplished after our botched attempt in 2000. Sorry for the long post but it is fun to reminisce about for me. As I've gotten older I'm more jaded about celebrities, maybe it's because I'm older or how the world has changed with how accessible many of them are on social media etc. But meeting them back in 2002, they were still larger than life and it's something I'll never forget.
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Post by Jgrp on Apr 7, 2019 2:39:56 GMT -5
Never met him but would love to. Everyone I know recons I’d probs faint and be like some little girl. Tbf I probs would be
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Post by Marissa on Apr 7, 2019 9:33:26 GMT -5
i tried to after his lollapalooza pre-show two years ago but apparently he had a tantrum (he stormed off stage and didn't do an encore) and bailed before anyone had exited the venue. i didn't bother to try last year.
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Post by paulislive on Apr 7, 2019 20:33:37 GMT -5
Stateside asis fan since 94, but never got the chance to meet them while they were still together, although I met Liam and Noel subsequently. The Liam meeting will forever make him solid gold in my book. It was 8 years ago, so I remember the bullet points, but I found the old post I wrote right after it happened, so if you're really bored or have some time to waste...
My friend and I were tipped off to the fact that Beady Eye were staying at the Elysian Hotel in Chicago. A Google map search of the Elysian confirmed that it was located two blocks from my girlfriend’s place. We decided with fair certitude that we could get our Beady Eye 7" box sets signed, leave them at my girlfriend’s place and then take the El back north to catch the gig on Saturday. But then we realized there weren’t many Friday night plans forming and maybe it would be worth stalking the hotel bar for a few hours? Long shot, but hey, what isn’t these days? Our mutual friend called us on Friday afternoon to tell us that Beady Eye had arrived in Chicago and were sleeping off the transatlantic flight in their rooms. I was still at the office, but suddenly I had this premonition that the meeting was going to take place.I called my pal as I was leaving the office and told him I’d be back in Uptown within the hour. I said I’d park my car and we’d hop the El down to the Gold Coast. On the El ride down, I asked my friend what he thought our chances were for a meeting. He said, “50-50. I’m not really expecting too much.” I’d have put it higher at that point. Maybe 80-20. But I tend to be optimistic. With us, we each had a bag containing the box set, a sharpie and a camera. I wouldn’t carry all that if I didn’t think something was going to happen. Our plan was simple. Find the hotel bar, get a couple seats by the entrance which would also give us a good view of the lobby and then whether or not they came into the bar, we could also spot them entering or exiting the hotel. My buddy and I peered around what seemed like 10 corners for a sign of a hotel bar or restaurant or nothing. I peered around one corner to see Jeff Wootton. I turned around to my buddy and did a head not in Jeff's direction. “Well, they’re here,” my friend said. Jeff got onto an elevator and now we had a problem. Even though we were nicely dressed, we kept wandering around the lobby looking painfully lost, and it would only be a matter of minutes before somebody inquired what we were doing. Finally we decided to tell the concierge we were meeting a friend for a drink and whether he might be able to point us toward the hotel bar. He said the bar was on the first floor, right around the corner from the top of the stairs. We headed up and found it was a very small lounge room. I was disappointed, mainly due to the fact that it was tucked far away from the lobby so if any of the band did enter/exit the hotel, we wouldn’t see it. My friend suggested we grab a seat at the bar. There were five stools. Two to the right were occupied by a young married couple and so we grabbed the ones to the left, with my buddy sitting all the way at the left. I looked around for taps, thinking we were going to be there awhile and I’d need to finance things accordingly. No heavy drinks, just beers. They didn’t have anything on tap. Too nice a place for taps, I suppose. The plan was to get comfortable and start texting a couple other friends to let us know where we were, what we were up to and extend an invite for them all to join us. We didn’t get that chance. I didn’t even get a chance to decide what to drink before I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see who was approaching. Liam Gallagher. I remember thinking, “Holy shit” and trying to put the magnitude of what was happening into some semblance of perspective, but it was all going in slow motion. He shook hands with the bartenders, removed his sunglasses (very cool pair that looked like the kind John Lennon wore in the ‘Double Fantasy’ era, though Liam’s were silver-framed) and traded a few quick jokes about how often they could expect to see him at the bar in the next few hours. Ringo Starr-circa 1965 haircut was perfectly groomed. He wore a blue overcoat that was fully buttoned up and contradicted the fact that it was summer in Chicago. All I could think was, “Wow, it looks just like him.” Which makes sense, but I had to resist the urge to reach out and poke his face to make sure there wasn’t a TV or computer screen between us. It was actually him. Taking the seat right next to mine. I turned to my friend with my eyes as big as dinner plates. He looked back at me with the same expression. It’s him. I mean, I admit I expected to corner Gem and Andy at some point for an autograph or picture. I also expected the wait to be hours. I never expected Liam Gallagher sitting down next to me within two minutes of me sitting down at the bar. It’s very hard to look away from someone you’ve been so keenly aware of since being 11 years old. But I knew that if I kept staring at him, I’d either freak him out, make him want to move or maybe (if 18 years of press reports were true) severely piss him off. So I decided to say something to stop me from staring. “It’s really good to see you, Liam,” I said, not believing that I was saying those words. “We’re big fans. We’re going to the show tomorrow night and we’re pretty excited.” “Oh, cheers,” Liam said, and moving toward us to shake our hands. “Cool, yeah.” “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. “Nah, mate. Just having a bit of water, but thanks.” He ended up with a cappuccino, which I’m sure was either comped or covered in the band’s expenses account. The bartender came to us and asked what we wanted. I needed something strong. I ordered a vodka tonic and my buddy ordered a Glenlivet. Then the bartender asked what kind of vodka I wanted. That was horrifying. People get picky and highly opinionated about vodka. There are theories about people who drink Grey Goose. I’ve always enjoyed Belvidere, but I’ve never met anyone else who has. My dad drinks Ketel One, but my girlfriend dismisses it. The last thing I wanted to do was say one and have Liam make a comment like, “Ah you don’t want that shit, mate.” Even though that would mean further conversation, it would also mean I’d feel like an ass for the rest of my life. I deferred to my dad’s taste and went with Ketel One. There was no comment from Liam. We got served and my nervousness was ridiculously visible as the glass took an awkwardly trembling path to my mouth. Couldn’t keep the hands from shaking. The moment was just too much. I tried to stay focused and look ahead and not stand up and scream “YOU’RE LIAM GALLAGHER! I SPENT MOST OF MY TEENAGE YEARS LIP SYNCHING TO YOUR SONGS WHILST LOOKING UP AT THE CEILING WITH MY HANDS CLASPED BEHIND MY BACK! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE MEANT TO ME!” but it was getting more difficult not to do that with every passing millisecond. Thankfully, Liam turned to us. “So where are you from?” Once two full seconds had passed and weI realized that Liam Gallagher was actually engaging US in conversation, we stammered answers. “Oh, here,” I said. “Right in Chicago.” “Yep, but I’m actually moving to London next week,” my buddy said.
This fucking guy. Just HAD to put it out there that he was actually going to be a countryman with our esteemed neighbor. Make me seem like the inferior Yank. “Oh yeah? Where in London you moving?” So they talked a little London and that conversation wore down. I asked how the shows up to this point had gone, and Liam enthused they were all great. “Just fuckin’ doin’ it, you know what I mean? We’re not messing about. They’ve all been really good.” “That’s great. And it’s really cool that you guys are doing proper B-sides again. I've really enjoyed those.” “Oh, thanks man. Yeah we’re gonna get right in on the next one, already working on some new tunes. It’s coming along good.” Beady Eye’s manager stepped into the bar at this point and seeing that we were already engaged in chatter with Liam, he jumped into the conversation. The talk quickly went to baseball. The Yankees were in town playing the Cubs for the weekend, and while the guys knew it was a big deal because of the buzz in the city, they wanted to know why. “Are they big rivals?” the manager asked.
“Not really, no. They play in two different leagues, and usually the only time the two leagues play each other is in the World Series,” I explained. “Oh, so is that what this is?” I honestly saw no way I could succinctly explain the decision made in the 1990s to start interleague baseball and how few American League teams actually played National League teams during the season, let alone how it started when I was a teenager after years and years of it NEVER happening outside of the World Series. All I could say was that the Yankees playing at Wrigley Field was something that did not happen often. I know they played at Wrigley within the last 10 years, but I somehow stammered “The Yankees playing here is something that happens like once every 25 years.” I probably shouldn’t be a sports reporter. “Oh!” They replied. “And did Chicago win?” “Yeah, they won today,” I reported. “So New York’s going home pissed off then?” “Well there’s two more games to be played, but hopefully on Sunday they go home pissed off.” “Are the Yankees a big deal? They win everything right?” I looked at Liam and said, “Basically, they’ve got a reputation like Man United. Buy everything, win everything.” Liam waved his hand. “Ah, fuckin’ say no more, mate.” “But hey, at least City got in there right? FA Cup.” “‘Bout fuckin’ time, eh?!” he said. “I’m actually going to see my first City game in December,” I said.
“You are?” Liam asked.
“Yeah, sorry to say I’m a Gooner, so we’re gonna go see the Man City/Arsenal match in December," my friend said. “Nice one.” At this point the manager moved over toward the two of us and asked how big of football fans we were. My friend had no problem engaging in this conversation. I still felt a little too novice to speak above my level, so I just listened. I turned around toward to see Gem Archer and Jeff Wootton approaching. My mouth dropped.
“Alright?” Gem smiled, nodding back. I faced forward again, thinking this was beyond any kind of belief. Gem went up to Liam and asked about his jacket. Liam raved to him about a new pair of sunglasses he’d bought that looked “Proper fuckin’ George Harrison!” I turned back to face them and there looming over me was Andy Bell. I turned back to my friend who was still talking football to the manager. My eyes still wide as dinner plates. We're now in the middle of the Beady Eye posse. I turned back to Andy and asked if he wanted my seat. “Oh no, it’s OK. You were here. I’m fine.” “You sure? ‘Cos…” “Yeah, yeah.” I turned to the manager and asked if he wanted to sit. He also declined, and I said, “Well I’m not making him stand,” pointing to my friend’s leg which was in a brace. “Oh, what happened there?” the manager asked.
“It was actually, an air guitaring incident,” my friend replied sheepishly. “He gets really into it,” I said. “We’re hoping tomorrow night you guys do a nice, quiet, acoustic show, otherwise it’ll be his other leg.”
We also talked Beady Eye’s output with the manager and how we appreciated the fact that they were working so fast. “When you’re a fan, it’s hard sometimes to wait years and years for albums,” I said.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah I think you’re right about that.” Before I knew what was happening, the band were moving out of the bar, leaving a bevy of half-finished Peronis behind. The manager got up and thanked the two of us for the chat. Liam stood up to accompany his bandmates and stepped toward my friend, shook both our hands and, said both our names and said it was a pleasure to meet us both. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.” And he was off. I looked down at my bag with the camera, 7" box set and Sharpie. Nothing to show for the moment. I didn’t think to get a picture. An autograph. Anything. I told my friend we probably could have and they would have obliged. “I’m glad we didn’t,” he said, before explaining that we got to share a moment that very few people ever will. We got to just enjoy a drink with them at the bar. Liam Gallagher actually talked to us. To have pulled out items for an autograph or requested a picture would’ve knocked us down a few steps. Would’ve made us fan boys instead of just a couple cool Chicago guys at the bar. We finished our drinks. He said, “I need a release. I’m going to have to punch you in the face or something. I can’t believe that just happened.”
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Post by asyouwere on Apr 8, 2019 12:59:58 GMT -5
Stateside asis fan since 94, but never got the chance to meet them while they were still together, although I met Liam and Noel subsequently. The Liam meeting will forever make him solid gold in my book. It was 8 years ago, so I remember the bullet points, but I found the old post I wrote right after it happened, so if you're really bored or have some time to waste... My friend and I were tipped off to the fact that Beady Eye were staying at the Elysian Hotel in Chicago. A Google map search of the Elysian confirmed that it was located two blocks from my girlfriend’s place. We decided with fair certitude that we could get our Beady Eye 7" box sets signed, leave them at my girlfriend’s place and then take the El back north to catch the gig on Saturday. But then we realized there weren’t many Friday night plans forming and maybe it would be worth stalking the hotel bar for a few hours? Long shot, but hey, what isn’t these days? Our mutual friend called us on Friday afternoon to tell us that Beady Eye had arrived in Chicago and were sleeping off the transatlantic flight in their rooms. I was still at the office, but suddenly I had this premonition that the meeting was going to take place.I called my pal as I was leaving the office and told him I’d be back in Uptown within the hour. I said I’d park my car and we’d hop the El down to the Gold Coast. On the El ride down, I asked my friend what he thought our chances were for a meeting. He said, “50-50. I’m not really expecting too much.” I’d have put it higher at that point. Maybe 80-20. But I tend to be optimistic. With us, we each had a bag containing the box set, a sharpie and a camera. I wouldn’t carry all that if I didn’t think something was going to happen. Our plan was simple. Find the hotel bar, get a couple seats by the entrance which would also give us a good view of the lobby and then whether or not they came into the bar, we could also spot them entering or exiting the hotel. My buddy and I peered around what seemed like 10 corners for a sign of a hotel bar or restaurant or nothing. I peered around one corner to see Jeff Wootton. I turned around to my buddy and did a head not in Jeff's direction. “Well, they’re here,” my friend said. Jeff got onto an elevator and now we had a problem. Even though we were nicely dressed, we kept wandering around the lobby looking painfully lost, and it would only be a matter of minutes before somebody inquired what we were doing. Finally we decided to tell the concierge we were meeting a friend for a drink and whether he might be able to point us toward the hotel bar. He said the bar was on the first floor, right around the corner from the top of the stairs. We headed up and found it was a very small lounge room. I was disappointed, mainly due to the fact that it was tucked far away from the lobby so if any of the band did enter/exit the hotel, we wouldn’t see it. My friend suggested we grab a seat at the bar. There were five stools. Two to the right were occupied by a young married couple and so we grabbed the ones to the left, with my buddy sitting all the way at the left. I looked around for taps, thinking we were going to be there awhile and I’d need to finance things accordingly. No heavy drinks, just beers. They didn’t have anything on tap. Too nice a place for taps, I suppose. The plan was to get comfortable and start texting a couple other friends to let us know where we were, what we were up to and extend an invite for them all to join us. We didn’t get that chance. I didn’t even get a chance to decide what to drink before I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see who was approaching. Liam Gallagher. I remember thinking, “Holy shit” and trying to put the magnitude of what was happening into some semblance of perspective, but it was all going in slow motion. He shook hands with the bartenders, removed his sunglasses (very cool pair that looked like the kind John Lennon wore in the ‘Double Fantasy’ era, though Liam’s were silver-framed) and traded a few quick jokes about how often they could expect to see him at the bar in the next few hours. Ringo Starr-circa 1965 haircut was perfectly groomed. He wore a blue overcoat that was fully buttoned up and contradicted the fact that it was summer in Chicago. All I could think was, “Wow, it looks just like him.” Which makes sense, but I had to resist the urge to reach out and poke his face to make sure there wasn’t a TV or computer screen between us. It was actually him. Taking the seat right next to mine. I turned to my friend with my eyes as big as dinner plates. He looked back at me with the same expression. It’s him. I mean, I admit I expected to corner Gem and Andy at some point for an autograph or picture. I also expected the wait to be hours. I never expected Liam Gallagher sitting down next to me within two minutes of me sitting down at the bar. It’s very hard to look away from someone you’ve been so keenly aware of since being 11 years old. But I knew that if I kept staring at him, I’d either freak him out, make him want to move or maybe (if 18 years of press reports were true) severely piss him off. So I decided to say something to stop me from staring. “It’s really good to see you, Liam,” I said, not believing that I was saying those words. “We’re big fans. We’re going to the show tomorrow night and we’re pretty excited.” “Oh, cheers,” Liam said, and moving toward us to shake our hands. “Cool, yeah.” “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. “Nah, mate. Just having a bit of water, but thanks.” He ended up with a cappuccino, which I’m sure was either comped or covered in the band’s expenses account. The bartender came to us and asked what we wanted. I needed something strong. I ordered a vodka tonic and my buddy ordered a Glenlivet. Then the bartender asked what kind of vodka I wanted. That was horrifying. People get picky and highly opinionated about vodka. There are theories about people who drink Grey Goose. I’ve always enjoyed Belvidere, but I’ve never met anyone else who has. My dad drinks Ketel One, but my girlfriend dismisses it. The last thing I wanted to do was say one and have Liam make a comment like, “Ah you don’t want that shit, mate.” Even though that would mean further conversation, it would also mean I’d feel like an ass for the rest of my life. I deferred to my dad’s taste and went with Ketel One. There was no comment from Liam. We got served and my nervousness was ridiculously visible as the glass took an awkwardly trembling path to my mouth. Couldn’t keep the hands from shaking. The moment was just too much. I tried to stay focused and look ahead and not stand up and scream “YOU’RE LIAM GALLAGHER! I SPENT MOST OF MY TEENAGE YEARS LIP SYNCHING TO YOUR SONGS WHILST LOOKING UP AT THE CEILING WITH MY HANDS CLASPED BEHIND MY BACK! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE MEANT TO ME!” but it was getting more difficult not to do that with every passing millisecond. Thankfully, Liam turned to us. “So where are you from?” Once two full seconds had passed and weI realized that Liam Gallagher was actually engaging US in conversation, we stammered answers. “Oh, here,” I said. “Right in Chicago.” “Yep, but I’m actually moving to London next week,” my buddy said. This fucking guy. Just HAD to put it out there that he was actually going to be a countryman with our esteemed neighbor. Make me seem like the inferior Yank. “Oh yeah? Where in London you moving?” So they talked a little London and that conversation wore down. I asked how the shows up to this point had gone, and Liam enthused they were all great. “Just fuckin’ doin’ it, you know what I mean? We’re not messing about. They’ve all been really good.” “That’s great. And it’s really cool that you guys are doing proper B-sides again. I've really enjoyed those.” “Oh, thanks man. Yeah we’re gonna get right in on the next one, already working on some new tunes. It’s coming along good.” Beady Eye’s manager stepped into the bar at this point and seeing that we were already engaged in chatter with Liam, he jumped into the conversation. The talk quickly went to baseball. The Yankees were in town playing the Cubs for the weekend, and while the guys knew it was a big deal because of the buzz in the city, they wanted to know why. “Are they big rivals?” the manager asked. “Not really, no. They play in two different leagues, and usually the only time the two leagues play each other is in the World Series,” I explained. “Oh, so is that what this is?” I honestly saw no way I could succinctly explain the decision made in the 1990s to start interleague baseball and how few American League teams actually played National League teams during the season, let alone how it started when I was a teenager after years and years of it NEVER happening outside of the World Series. All I could say was that the Yankees playing at Wrigley Field was something that did not happen often. I know they played at Wrigley within the last 10 years, but I somehow stammered “The Yankees playing here is something that happens like once every 25 years.” I probably shouldn’t be a sports reporter. “Oh!” They replied. “And did Chicago win?” “Yeah, they won today,” I reported. “So New York’s going home pissed off then?” “Well there’s two more games to be played, but hopefully on Sunday they go home pissed off.” “Are the Yankees a big deal? They win everything right?” I looked at Liam and said, “Basically, they’ve got a reputation like Man United. Buy everything, win everything.” Liam waved his hand. “Ah, fuckin’ say no more, mate.” “But hey, at least City got in there right? FA Cup.” “‘Bout fuckin’ time, eh?!” he said. “I’m actually going to see my first City game in December,” I said. “You are?” Liam asked. “Yeah, sorry to say I’m a Gooner, so we’re gonna go see the Man City/Arsenal match in December," my friend said. “Nice one.” At this point the manager moved over toward the two of us and asked how big of football fans we were. My friend had no problem engaging in this conversation. I still felt a little too novice to speak above my level, so I just listened. I turned around toward to see Gem Archer and Jeff Wootton approaching. My mouth dropped. “Alright?” Gem smiled, nodding back. I faced forward again, thinking this was beyond any kind of belief. Gem went up to Liam and asked about his jacket. Liam raved to him about a new pair of sunglasses he’d bought that looked “Proper fuckin’ George Harrison!” I turned back to face them and there looming over me was Andy Bell. I turned back to my friend who was still talking football to the manager. My eyes still wide as dinner plates. We're now in the middle of the Beady Eye posse. I turned back to Andy and asked if he wanted my seat. “Oh no, it’s OK. You were here. I’m fine.” “You sure? ‘Cos…” “Yeah, yeah.” I turned to the manager and asked if he wanted to sit. He also declined, and I said, “Well I’m not making him stand,” pointing to my friend’s leg which was in a brace. “Oh, what happened there?” the manager asked. “It was actually, an air guitaring incident,” my friend replied sheepishly. “He gets really into it,” I said. “We’re hoping tomorrow night you guys do a nice, quiet, acoustic show, otherwise it’ll be his other leg.” We also talked Beady Eye’s output with the manager and how we appreciated the fact that they were working so fast. “When you’re a fan, it’s hard sometimes to wait years and years for albums,” I said. “Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah I think you’re right about that.” Before I knew what was happening, the band were moving out of the bar, leaving a bevy of half-finished Peronis behind. The manager got up and thanked the two of us for the chat. Liam stood up to accompany his bandmates and stepped toward my friend, shook both our hands and, said both our names and said it was a pleasure to meet us both. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.” And he was off. I looked down at my bag with the camera, 7" box set and Sharpie. Nothing to show for the moment. I didn’t think to get a picture. An autograph. Anything. I told my friend we probably could have and they would have obliged. “I’m glad we didn’t,” he said, before explaining that we got to share a moment that very few people ever will. We got to just enjoy a drink with them at the bar. Liam Gallagher actually talked to us. To have pulled out items for an autograph or requested a picture would’ve knocked us down a few steps. Would’ve made us fan boys instead of just a couple cool Chicago guys at the bar. We finished our drinks. He said, “I need a release. I’m going to have to punch you in the face or something. I can’t believe that just happened.” This read like a novel man. Great story, and very well written!
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Post by eleysium on Apr 8, 2019 14:48:00 GMT -5
I shook Liam's hand before the Fairfax, VA gig in 96. I was stage right as the opening act was on and I was wearing a Man City shirt. Out comes Liam to watch the act and he makes his way over to the security barrier to shake hands with the people. He reached past the first row to shake my hand because of the City shirt. I wish I had a picture! In 95 I was at the Lexington Queen club in Tokyo when all of Blur showed up after a show. I kept heckling them by shouting "Oasis!" at them on the dance floor (not proud of that). Eventually Damon came over to me and said, "We're all just English in Japan, let's get along." I wasn't English but whatever. I wish I had been civil to them because I really admire them now.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 8, 2019 15:50:50 GMT -5
Not Liam but my mate said he got chased by Bonehead back in the 90s for lobbing a tennis ball off his head
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Post by Rolo on Apr 8, 2019 16:47:10 GMT -5
Stateside asis fan since 94, but never got the chance to meet them while they were still together, although I met Liam and Noel subsequently. The Liam meeting will forever make him solid gold in my book. It was 8 years ago, so I remember the bullet points, but I found the old post I wrote right after it happened, so if you're really bored or have some time to waste... My friend and I were tipped off to the fact that Beady Eye were staying at the Elysian Hotel in Chicago. A Google map search of the Elysian confirmed that it was located two blocks from my girlfriend’s place. We decided with fair certitude that we could get our Beady Eye 7" box sets signed, leave them at my girlfriend’s place and then take the El back north to catch the gig on Saturday. But then we realized there weren’t many Friday night plans forming and maybe it would be worth stalking the hotel bar for a few hours? Long shot, but hey, what isn’t these days? Our mutual friend called us on Friday afternoon to tell us that Beady Eye had arrived in Chicago and were sleeping off the transatlantic flight in their rooms. I was still at the office, but suddenly I had this premonition that the meeting was going to take place.I called my pal as I was leaving the office and told him I’d be back in Uptown within the hour. I said I’d park my car and we’d hop the El down to the Gold Coast. On the El ride down, I asked my friend what he thought our chances were for a meeting. He said, “50-50. I’m not really expecting too much.” I’d have put it higher at that point. Maybe 80-20. But I tend to be optimistic. With us, we each had a bag containing the box set, a sharpie and a camera. I wouldn’t carry all that if I didn’t think something was going to happen. Our plan was simple. Find the hotel bar, get a couple seats by the entrance which would also give us a good view of the lobby and then whether or not they came into the bar, we could also spot them entering or exiting the hotel. My buddy and I peered around what seemed like 10 corners for a sign of a hotel bar or restaurant or nothing. I peered around one corner to see Jeff Wootton. I turned around to my buddy and did a head not in Jeff's direction. “Well, they’re here,” my friend said. Jeff got onto an elevator and now we had a problem. Even though we were nicely dressed, we kept wandering around the lobby looking painfully lost, and it would only be a matter of minutes before somebody inquired what we were doing. Finally we decided to tell the concierge we were meeting a friend for a drink and whether he might be able to point us toward the hotel bar. He said the bar was on the first floor, right around the corner from the top of the stairs. We headed up and found it was a very small lounge room. I was disappointed, mainly due to the fact that it was tucked far away from the lobby so if any of the band did enter/exit the hotel, we wouldn’t see it. My friend suggested we grab a seat at the bar. There were five stools. Two to the right were occupied by a young married couple and so we grabbed the ones to the left, with my buddy sitting all the way at the left. I looked around for taps, thinking we were going to be there awhile and I’d need to finance things accordingly. No heavy drinks, just beers. They didn’t have anything on tap. Too nice a place for taps, I suppose. The plan was to get comfortable and start texting a couple other friends to let us know where we were, what we were up to and extend an invite for them all to join us. We didn’t get that chance. I didn’t even get a chance to decide what to drink before I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see who was approaching. Liam Gallagher. I remember thinking, “Holy shit” and trying to put the magnitude of what was happening into some semblance of perspective, but it was all going in slow motion. He shook hands with the bartenders, removed his sunglasses (very cool pair that looked like the kind John Lennon wore in the ‘Double Fantasy’ era, though Liam’s were silver-framed) and traded a few quick jokes about how often they could expect to see him at the bar in the next few hours. Ringo Starr-circa 1965 haircut was perfectly groomed. He wore a blue overcoat that was fully buttoned up and contradicted the fact that it was summer in Chicago. All I could think was, “Wow, it looks just like him.” Which makes sense, but I had to resist the urge to reach out and poke his face to make sure there wasn’t a TV or computer screen between us. It was actually him. Taking the seat right next to mine. I turned to my friend with my eyes as big as dinner plates. He looked back at me with the same expression. It’s him. I mean, I admit I expected to corner Gem and Andy at some point for an autograph or picture. I also expected the wait to be hours. I never expected Liam Gallagher sitting down next to me within two minutes of me sitting down at the bar. It’s very hard to look away from someone you’ve been so keenly aware of since being 11 years old. But I knew that if I kept staring at him, I’d either freak him out, make him want to move or maybe (if 18 years of press reports were true) severely piss him off. So I decided to say something to stop me from staring. “It’s really good to see you, Liam,” I said, not believing that I was saying those words. “We’re big fans. We’re going to the show tomorrow night and we’re pretty excited.” “Oh, cheers,” Liam said, and moving toward us to shake our hands. “Cool, yeah.” “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. “Nah, mate. Just having a bit of water, but thanks.” He ended up with a cappuccino, which I’m sure was either comped or covered in the band’s expenses account. The bartender came to us and asked what we wanted. I needed something strong. I ordered a vodka tonic and my buddy ordered a Glenlivet. Then the bartender asked what kind of vodka I wanted. That was horrifying. People get picky and highly opinionated about vodka. There are theories about people who drink Grey Goose. I’ve always enjoyed Belvidere, but I’ve never met anyone else who has. My dad drinks Ketel One, but my girlfriend dismisses it. The last thing I wanted to do was say one and have Liam make a comment like, “Ah you don’t want that shit, mate.” Even though that would mean further conversation, it would also mean I’d feel like an ass for the rest of my life. I deferred to my dad’s taste and went with Ketel One. There was no comment from Liam. We got served and my nervousness was ridiculously visible as the glass took an awkwardly trembling path to my mouth. Couldn’t keep the hands from shaking. The moment was just too much. I tried to stay focused and look ahead and not stand up and scream “YOU’RE LIAM GALLAGHER! I SPENT MOST OF MY TEENAGE YEARS LIP SYNCHING TO YOUR SONGS WHILST LOOKING UP AT THE CEILING WITH MY HANDS CLASPED BEHIND MY BACK! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE MEANT TO ME!” but it was getting more difficult not to do that with every passing millisecond. Thankfully, Liam turned to us. “So where are you from?” Once two full seconds had passed and weI realized that Liam Gallagher was actually engaging US in conversation, we stammered answers. “Oh, here,” I said. “Right in Chicago.” “Yep, but I’m actually moving to London next week,” my buddy said. This fucking guy. Just HAD to put it out there that he was actually going to be a countryman with our esteemed neighbor. Make me seem like the inferior Yank. “Oh yeah? Where in London you moving?” So they talked a little London and that conversation wore down. I asked how the shows up to this point had gone, and Liam enthused they were all great. “Just fuckin’ doin’ it, you know what I mean? We’re not messing about. They’ve all been really good.” “That’s great. And it’s really cool that you guys are doing proper B-sides again. I've really enjoyed those.” “Oh, thanks man. Yeah we’re gonna get right in on the next one, already working on some new tunes. It’s coming along good.” Beady Eye’s manager stepped into the bar at this point and seeing that we were already engaged in chatter with Liam, he jumped into the conversation. The talk quickly went to baseball. The Yankees were in town playing the Cubs for the weekend, and while the guys knew it was a big deal because of the buzz in the city, they wanted to know why. “Are they big rivals?” the manager asked. “Not really, no. They play in two different leagues, and usually the only time the two leagues play each other is in the World Series,” I explained. “Oh, so is that what this is?” I honestly saw no way I could succinctly explain the decision made in the 1990s to start interleague baseball and how few American League teams actually played National League teams during the season, let alone how it started when I was a teenager after years and years of it NEVER happening outside of the World Series. All I could say was that the Yankees playing at Wrigley Field was something that did not happen often. I know they played at Wrigley within the last 10 years, but I somehow stammered “The Yankees playing here is something that happens like once every 25 years.” I probably shouldn’t be a sports reporter. “Oh!” They replied. “And did Chicago win?” “Yeah, they won today,” I reported. “So New York’s going home pissed off then?” “Well there’s two more games to be played, but hopefully on Sunday they go home pissed off.” “Are the Yankees a big deal? They win everything right?” I looked at Liam and said, “Basically, they’ve got a reputation like Man United. Buy everything, win everything.” Liam waved his hand. “Ah, fuckin’ say no more, mate.” “But hey, at least City got in there right? FA Cup.” “‘Bout fuckin’ time, eh?!” he said. “I’m actually going to see my first City game in December,” I said. “You are?” Liam asked. “Yeah, sorry to say I’m a Gooner, so we’re gonna go see the Man City/Arsenal match in December," my friend said. “Nice one.” At this point the manager moved over toward the two of us and asked how big of football fans we were. My friend had no problem engaging in this conversation. I still felt a little too novice to speak above my level, so I just listened. I turned around toward to see Gem Archer and Jeff Wootton approaching. My mouth dropped. “Alright?” Gem smiled, nodding back. I faced forward again, thinking this was beyond any kind of belief. Gem went up to Liam and asked about his jacket. Liam raved to him about a new pair of sunglasses he’d bought that looked “Proper fuckin’ George Harrison!” I turned back to face them and there looming over me was Andy Bell. I turned back to my friend who was still talking football to the manager. My eyes still wide as dinner plates. We're now in the middle of the Beady Eye posse. I turned back to Andy and asked if he wanted my seat. “Oh no, it’s OK. You were here. I’m fine.” “You sure? ‘Cos…” “Yeah, yeah.” I turned to the manager and asked if he wanted to sit. He also declined, and I said, “Well I’m not making him stand,” pointing to my friend’s leg which was in a brace. “Oh, what happened there?” the manager asked. “It was actually, an air guitaring incident,” my friend replied sheepishly. “He gets really into it,” I said. “We’re hoping tomorrow night you guys do a nice, quiet, acoustic show, otherwise it’ll be his other leg.” We also talked Beady Eye’s output with the manager and how we appreciated the fact that they were working so fast. “When you’re a fan, it’s hard sometimes to wait years and years for albums,” I said. “Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah I think you’re right about that.” Before I knew what was happening, the band were moving out of the bar, leaving a bevy of half-finished Peronis behind. The manager got up and thanked the two of us for the chat. Liam stood up to accompany his bandmates and stepped toward my friend, shook both our hands and, said both our names and said it was a pleasure to meet us both. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.” And he was off. I looked down at my bag with the camera, 7" box set and Sharpie. Nothing to show for the moment. I didn’t think to get a picture. An autograph. Anything. I told my friend we probably could have and they would have obliged. “I’m glad we didn’t,” he said, before explaining that we got to share a moment that very few people ever will. We got to just enjoy a drink with them at the bar. Liam Gallagher actually talked to us. To have pulled out items for an autograph or requested a picture would’ve knocked us down a few steps. Would’ve made us fan boys instead of just a couple cool Chicago guys at the bar. We finished our drinks. He said, “I need a release. I’m going to have to punch you in the face or something. I can’t believe that just happened.” Great story and all but do you seriously remember the whole conversation you had with him, word for word? Find that a bit mad. I spoke to him once for about 10 minutes and I can hardly remember what we spoke about, never mind writing out a transcript of what was said. Felt like a dream.
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Post by Frodis on Apr 8, 2019 17:44:02 GMT -5
Met both of 'em a handful of times between 2002-2008.
Liam is Liam. WYSIWYG with him. My favorite story about him was after their show in Cleveland, 2005. Friend & I are chatting with Phil Smith. Phil sees Liam coming into the room, leans into us and says "That table is getting flipped in 30 seconds.." Sure enough, we watch as Liam saunters into the room, goes straight to the table and flips it over. Dunno why he did it, but he sure as shit did it. And then fell backwards, hitting his head on my thigh. He was laughing about it, while I'm asking him if he's okay. That night ended with a dance circle to Smokey Robinson's Tracks of my tears. We all start singing, Liam tells us to stfu, restarts the song.I end up getting wedged between him & Tom Meighan while we all dance to said song. Good times.
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Post by stillilllife on Apr 9, 2019 2:40:00 GMT -5
Great story and all but do you seriously remember the whole conversation you had with him, word for word? Find that a bit mad. I spoke to him once for about 10 minutes and I can hardly remember what we spoke about, never mind writing out a transcript of what was said. Felt like a dream. I found the old post I wrote right after it happened
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Post by Rolo on Apr 9, 2019 5:47:02 GMT -5
Great story and all but do you seriously remember the whole conversation you had with him, word for word? Find that a bit mad. I spoke to him once for about 10 minutes and I can hardly remember what we spoke about, never mind writing out a transcript of what was said. Felt like a dream. I found the old post I wrote right after it happened Ah, I can't read apparently. Fair enough.
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Post by rpf1979 on Apr 9, 2019 15:47:32 GMT -5
Stateside asis fan since 94, but never got the chance to meet them while they were still together, although I met Liam and Noel subsequently. The Liam meeting will forever make him solid gold in my book. It was 8 years ago, so I remember the bullet points, but I found the old post I wrote right after it happened, so if you're really bored or have some time to waste... Great story! Unlike you, I went all fanboy and asked for a picture, but it was outside of a hotel so probably not a place to carry on a conversation like in a bar. I do remember Gem and Andy hanging out a few minutes longer and talking with us. Side note: But seems like I remember Noel got into a car wreck not too long after we met him in 2002 on the same US tour.
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Post by popeyebonaparte on Apr 15, 2019 19:12:53 GMT -5
Not my story but I seen this on YouTube...
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Post by Bonehead's Barber on Apr 16, 2019 2:51:04 GMT -5
Not my story but I seen this on YouTube... Robbie Knox is great. His videos are the perfect blend of dull and interesting. Very wholesome to watch
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Post by 2nz on Apr 16, 2019 5:25:30 GMT -5
Stateside asis fan since 94, but never got the chance to meet them while they were still together, although I met Liam and Noel subsequently. The Liam meeting will forever make him solid gold in my book. It was 8 years ago, so I remember the bullet points, but I found the old post I wrote right after it happened, so if you're really bored or have some time to waste... My friend and I were tipped off to the fact that Beady Eye were staying at the Elysian Hotel in Chicago. A Google map search of the Elysian confirmed that it was located two blocks from my girlfriend’s place. We decided with fair certitude that we could get our Beady Eye 7" box sets signed, leave them at my girlfriend’s place and then take the El back north to catch the gig on Saturday. But then we realized there weren’t many Friday night plans forming and maybe it would be worth stalking the hotel bar for a few hours? Long shot, but hey, what isn’t these days? Our mutual friend called us on Friday afternoon to tell us that Beady Eye had arrived in Chicago and were sleeping off the transatlantic flight in their rooms. I was still at the office, but suddenly I had this premonition that the meeting was going to take place.I called my pal as I was leaving the office and told him I’d be back in Uptown within the hour. I said I’d park my car and we’d hop the El down to the Gold Coast. On the El ride down, I asked my friend what he thought our chances were for a meeting. He said, “50-50. I’m not really expecting too much.” I’d have put it higher at that point. Maybe 80-20. But I tend to be optimistic. With us, we each had a bag containing the box set, a sharpie and a camera. I wouldn’t carry all that if I didn’t think something was going to happen. Our plan was simple. Find the hotel bar, get a couple seats by the entrance which would also give us a good view of the lobby and then whether or not they came into the bar, we could also spot them entering or exiting the hotel. My buddy and I peered around what seemed like 10 corners for a sign of a hotel bar or restaurant or nothing. I peered around one corner to see Jeff Wootton. I turned around to my buddy and did a head not in Jeff's direction. “Well, they’re here,” my friend said. Jeff got onto an elevator and now we had a problem. Even though we were nicely dressed, we kept wandering around the lobby looking painfully lost, and it would only be a matter of minutes before somebody inquired what we were doing. Finally we decided to tell the concierge we were meeting a friend for a drink and whether he might be able to point us toward the hotel bar. He said the bar was on the first floor, right around the corner from the top of the stairs. We headed up and found it was a very small lounge room. I was disappointed, mainly due to the fact that it was tucked far away from the lobby so if any of the band did enter/exit the hotel, we wouldn’t see it. My friend suggested we grab a seat at the bar. There were five stools. Two to the right were occupied by a young married couple and so we grabbed the ones to the left, with my buddy sitting all the way at the left. I looked around for taps, thinking we were going to be there awhile and I’d need to finance things accordingly. No heavy drinks, just beers. They didn’t have anything on tap. Too nice a place for taps, I suppose. The plan was to get comfortable and start texting a couple other friends to let us know where we were, what we were up to and extend an invite for them all to join us. We didn’t get that chance. I didn’t even get a chance to decide what to drink before I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see who was approaching. Liam Gallagher. I remember thinking, “Holy shit” and trying to put the magnitude of what was happening into some semblance of perspective, but it was all going in slow motion. He shook hands with the bartenders, removed his sunglasses (very cool pair that looked like the kind John Lennon wore in the ‘Double Fantasy’ era, though Liam’s were silver-framed) and traded a few quick jokes about how often they could expect to see him at the bar in the next few hours. Ringo Starr-circa 1965 haircut was perfectly groomed. He wore a blue overcoat that was fully buttoned up and contradicted the fact that it was summer in Chicago. All I could think was, “Wow, it looks just like him.” Which makes sense, but I had to resist the urge to reach out and poke his face to make sure there wasn’t a TV or computer screen between us. It was actually him. Taking the seat right next to mine. I turned to my friend with my eyes as big as dinner plates. He looked back at me with the same expression. It’s him. I mean, I admit I expected to corner Gem and Andy at some point for an autograph or picture. I also expected the wait to be hours. I never expected Liam Gallagher sitting down next to me within two minutes of me sitting down at the bar. It’s very hard to look away from someone you’ve been so keenly aware of since being 11 years old. But I knew that if I kept staring at him, I’d either freak him out, make him want to move or maybe (if 18 years of press reports were true) severely piss him off. So I decided to say something to stop me from staring. “It’s really good to see you, Liam,” I said, not believing that I was saying those words. “We’re big fans. We’re going to the show tomorrow night and we’re pretty excited.” “Oh, cheers,” Liam said, and moving toward us to shake our hands. “Cool, yeah.” “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. “Nah, mate. Just having a bit of water, but thanks.” He ended up with a cappuccino, which I’m sure was either comped or covered in the band’s expenses account. The bartender came to us and asked what we wanted. I needed something strong. I ordered a vodka tonic and my buddy ordered a Glenlivet. Then the bartender asked what kind of vodka I wanted. That was horrifying. People get picky and highly opinionated about vodka. There are theories about people who drink Grey Goose. I’ve always enjoyed Belvidere, but I’ve never met anyone else who has. My dad drinks Ketel One, but my girlfriend dismisses it. The last thing I wanted to do was say one and have Liam make a comment like, “Ah you don’t want that shit, mate.” Even though that would mean further conversation, it would also mean I’d feel like an ass for the rest of my life. I deferred to my dad’s taste and went with Ketel One. There was no comment from Liam. We got served and my nervousness was ridiculously visible as the glass took an awkwardly trembling path to my mouth. Couldn’t keep the hands from shaking. The moment was just too much. I tried to stay focused and look ahead and not stand up and scream “YOU’RE LIAM GALLAGHER! I SPENT MOST OF MY TEENAGE YEARS LIP SYNCHING TO YOUR SONGS WHILST LOOKING UP AT THE CEILING WITH MY HANDS CLASPED BEHIND MY BACK! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE MEANT TO ME!” but it was getting more difficult not to do that with every passing millisecond. Thankfully, Liam turned to us. “So where are you from?” Once two full seconds had passed and weI realized that Liam Gallagher was actually engaging US in conversation, we stammered answers. “Oh, here,” I said. “Right in Chicago.” “Yep, but I’m actually moving to London next week,” my buddy said. This fucking guy. Just HAD to put it out there that he was actually going to be a countryman with our esteemed neighbor. Make me seem like the inferior Yank. “Oh yeah? Where in London you moving?” So they talked a little London and that conversation wore down. I asked how the shows up to this point had gone, and Liam enthused they were all great. “Just fuckin’ doin’ it, you know what I mean? We’re not messing about. They’ve all been really good.” “That’s great. And it’s really cool that you guys are doing proper B-sides again. I've really enjoyed those.” “Oh, thanks man. Yeah we’re gonna get right in on the next one, already working on some new tunes. It’s coming along good.” Beady Eye’s manager stepped into the bar at this point and seeing that we were already engaged in chatter with Liam, he jumped into the conversation. The talk quickly went to baseball. The Yankees were in town playing the Cubs for the weekend, and while the guys knew it was a big deal because of the buzz in the city, they wanted to know why. “Are they big rivals?” the manager asked. “Not really, no. They play in two different leagues, and usually the only time the two leagues play each other is in the World Series,” I explained. “Oh, so is that what this is?” I honestly saw no way I could succinctly explain the decision made in the 1990s to start interleague baseball and how few American League teams actually played National League teams during the season, let alone how it started when I was a teenager after years and years of it NEVER happening outside of the World Series. All I could say was that the Yankees playing at Wrigley Field was something that did not happen often. I know they played at Wrigley within the last 10 years, but I somehow stammered “The Yankees playing here is something that happens like once every 25 years.” I probably shouldn’t be a sports reporter. “Oh!” They replied. “And did Chicago win?” “Yeah, they won today,” I reported. “So New York’s going home pissed off then?” “Well there’s two more games to be played, but hopefully on Sunday they go home pissed off.” “Are the Yankees a big deal? They win everything right?” I looked at Liam and said, “Basically, they’ve got a reputation like Man United. Buy everything, win everything.” Liam waved his hand. “Ah, fuckin’ say no more, mate.” “But hey, at least City got in there right? FA Cup.” “‘Bout fuckin’ time, eh?!” he said. “I’m actually going to see my first City game in December,” I said. “You are?” Liam asked. “Yeah, sorry to say I’m a Gooner, so we’re gonna go see the Man City/Arsenal match in December," my friend said. “Nice one.” At this point the manager moved over toward the two of us and asked how big of football fans we were. My friend had no problem engaging in this conversation. I still felt a little too novice to speak above my level, so I just listened. I turned around toward to see Gem Archer and Jeff Wootton approaching. My mouth dropped. “Alright?” Gem smiled, nodding back. I faced forward again, thinking this was beyond any kind of belief. Gem went up to Liam and asked about his jacket. Liam raved to him about a new pair of sunglasses he’d bought that looked “Proper fuckin’ George Harrison!” I turned back to face them and there looming over me was Andy Bell. I turned back to my friend who was still talking football to the manager. My eyes still wide as dinner plates. We're now in the middle of the Beady Eye posse. I turned back to Andy and asked if he wanted my seat. “Oh no, it’s OK. You were here. I’m fine.” “You sure? ‘Cos…” “Yeah, yeah.” I turned to the manager and asked if he wanted to sit. He also declined, and I said, “Well I’m not making him stand,” pointing to my friend’s leg which was in a brace. “Oh, what happened there?” the manager asked. “It was actually, an air guitaring incident,” my friend replied sheepishly. “He gets really into it,” I said. “We’re hoping tomorrow night you guys do a nice, quiet, acoustic show, otherwise it’ll be his other leg.” We also talked Beady Eye’s output with the manager and how we appreciated the fact that they were working so fast. “When you’re a fan, it’s hard sometimes to wait years and years for albums,” I said. “Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah I think you’re right about that.” Before I knew what was happening, the band were moving out of the bar, leaving a bevy of half-finished Peronis behind. The manager got up and thanked the two of us for the chat. Liam stood up to accompany his bandmates and stepped toward my friend, shook both our hands and, said both our names and said it was a pleasure to meet us both. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.” And he was off. I looked down at my bag with the camera, 7" box set and Sharpie. Nothing to show for the moment. I didn’t think to get a picture. An autograph. Anything. I told my friend we probably could have and they would have obliged. “I’m glad we didn’t,” he said, before explaining that we got to share a moment that very few people ever will. We got to just enjoy a drink with them at the bar. Liam Gallagher actually talked to us. To have pulled out items for an autograph or requested a picture would’ve knocked us down a few steps. Would’ve made us fan boys instead of just a couple cool Chicago guys at the bar. We finished our drinks. He said, “I need a release. I’m going to have to punch you in the face or something. I can’t believe that just happened.” Genuinely the most boring thing I've ever read on the internet.
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Post by mimmihopps on Apr 16, 2019 6:34:52 GMT -5
Stateside asis fan since 94, but never got the chance to meet them while they were still together, although I met Liam and Noel subsequently. The Liam meeting will forever make him solid gold in my book. It was 8 years ago, so I remember the bullet points, but I found the old post I wrote right after it happened, so if you're really bored or have some time to waste... My friend and I were tipped off to the fact that Beady Eye were staying at the Elysian Hotel in Chicago. A Google map search of the Elysian confirmed that it was located two blocks from my girlfriend’s place. We decided with fair certitude that we could get our Beady Eye 7" box sets signed, leave them at my girlfriend’s place and then take the El back north to catch the gig on Saturday. But then we realized there weren’t many Friday night plans forming and maybe it would be worth stalking the hotel bar for a few hours? Long shot, but hey, what isn’t these days? Our mutual friend called us on Friday afternoon to tell us that Beady Eye had arrived in Chicago and were sleeping off the transatlantic flight in their rooms. I was still at the office, but suddenly I had this premonition that the meeting was going to take place.I called my pal as I was leaving the office and told him I’d be back in Uptown within the hour. I said I’d park my car and we’d hop the El down to the Gold Coast. On the El ride down, I asked my friend what he thought our chances were for a meeting. He said, “50-50. I’m not really expecting too much.” I’d have put it higher at that point. Maybe 80-20. But I tend to be optimistic. With us, we each had a bag containing the box set, a sharpie and a camera. I wouldn’t carry all that if I didn’t think something was going to happen. Our plan was simple. Find the hotel bar, get a couple seats by the entrance which would also give us a good view of the lobby and then whether or not they came into the bar, we could also spot them entering or exiting the hotel. My buddy and I peered around what seemed like 10 corners for a sign of a hotel bar or restaurant or nothing. I peered around one corner to see Jeff Wootton. I turned around to my buddy and did a head not in Jeff's direction. “Well, they’re here,” my friend said. Jeff got onto an elevator and now we had a problem. Even though we were nicely dressed, we kept wandering around the lobby looking painfully lost, and it would only be a matter of minutes before somebody inquired what we were doing. Finally we decided to tell the concierge we were meeting a friend for a drink and whether he might be able to point us toward the hotel bar. He said the bar was on the first floor, right around the corner from the top of the stairs. We headed up and found it was a very small lounge room. I was disappointed, mainly due to the fact that it was tucked far away from the lobby so if any of the band did enter/exit the hotel, we wouldn’t see it. My friend suggested we grab a seat at the bar. There were five stools. Two to the right were occupied by a young married couple and so we grabbed the ones to the left, with my buddy sitting all the way at the left. I looked around for taps, thinking we were going to be there awhile and I’d need to finance things accordingly. No heavy drinks, just beers. They didn’t have anything on tap. Too nice a place for taps, I suppose. The plan was to get comfortable and start texting a couple other friends to let us know where we were, what we were up to and extend an invite for them all to join us. We didn’t get that chance. I didn’t even get a chance to decide what to drink before I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see who was approaching. Liam Gallagher. I remember thinking, “Holy shit” and trying to put the magnitude of what was happening into some semblance of perspective, but it was all going in slow motion. He shook hands with the bartenders, removed his sunglasses (very cool pair that looked like the kind John Lennon wore in the ‘Double Fantasy’ era, though Liam’s were silver-framed) and traded a few quick jokes about how often they could expect to see him at the bar in the next few hours. Ringo Starr-circa 1965 haircut was perfectly groomed. He wore a blue overcoat that was fully buttoned up and contradicted the fact that it was summer in Chicago. All I could think was, “Wow, it looks just like him.” Which makes sense, but I had to resist the urge to reach out and poke his face to make sure there wasn’t a TV or computer screen between us. It was actually him. Taking the seat right next to mine. I turned to my friend with my eyes as big as dinner plates. He looked back at me with the same expression. It’s him. I mean, I admit I expected to corner Gem and Andy at some point for an autograph or picture. I also expected the wait to be hours. I never expected Liam Gallagher sitting down next to me within two minutes of me sitting down at the bar. It’s very hard to look away from someone you’ve been so keenly aware of since being 11 years old. But I knew that if I kept staring at him, I’d either freak him out, make him want to move or maybe (if 18 years of press reports were true) severely piss him off. So I decided to say something to stop me from staring. “It’s really good to see you, Liam,” I said, not believing that I was saying those words. “We’re big fans. We’re going to the show tomorrow night and we’re pretty excited.” “Oh, cheers,” Liam said, and moving toward us to shake our hands. “Cool, yeah.” “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. “Nah, mate. Just having a bit of water, but thanks.” He ended up with a cappuccino, which I’m sure was either comped or covered in the band’s expenses account. The bartender came to us and asked what we wanted. I needed something strong. I ordered a vodka tonic and my buddy ordered a Glenlivet. Then the bartender asked what kind of vodka I wanted. That was horrifying. People get picky and highly opinionated about vodka. There are theories about people who drink Grey Goose. I’ve always enjoyed Belvidere, but I’ve never met anyone else who has. My dad drinks Ketel One, but my girlfriend dismisses it. The last thing I wanted to do was say one and have Liam make a comment like, “Ah you don’t want that shit, mate.” Even though that would mean further conversation, it would also mean I’d feel like an ass for the rest of my life. I deferred to my dad’s taste and went with Ketel One. There was no comment from Liam. We got served and my nervousness was ridiculously visible as the glass took an awkwardly trembling path to my mouth. Couldn’t keep the hands from shaking. The moment was just too much. I tried to stay focused and look ahead and not stand up and scream “YOU’RE LIAM GALLAGHER! I SPENT MOST OF MY TEENAGE YEARS LIP SYNCHING TO YOUR SONGS WHILST LOOKING UP AT THE CEILING WITH MY HANDS CLASPED BEHIND MY BACK! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE MEANT TO ME!” but it was getting more difficult not to do that with every passing millisecond. Thankfully, Liam turned to us. “So where are you from?” Once two full seconds had passed and weI realized that Liam Gallagher was actually engaging US in conversation, we stammered answers. “Oh, here,” I said. “Right in Chicago.” “Yep, but I’m actually moving to London next week,” my buddy said. This fucking guy. Just HAD to put it out there that he was actually going to be a countryman with our esteemed neighbor. Make me seem like the inferior Yank. “Oh yeah? Where in London you moving?” So they talked a little London and that conversation wore down. I asked how the shows up to this point had gone, and Liam enthused they were all great. “Just fuckin’ doin’ it, you know what I mean? We’re not messing about. They’ve all been really good.” “That’s great. And it’s really cool that you guys are doing proper B-sides again. I've really enjoyed those.” “Oh, thanks man. Yeah we’re gonna get right in on the next one, already working on some new tunes. It’s coming along good.” Beady Eye’s manager stepped into the bar at this point and seeing that we were already engaged in chatter with Liam, he jumped into the conversation. The talk quickly went to baseball. The Yankees were in town playing the Cubs for the weekend, and while the guys knew it was a big deal because of the buzz in the city, they wanted to know why. “Are they big rivals?” the manager asked. “Not really, no. They play in two different leagues, and usually the only time the two leagues play each other is in the World Series,” I explained. “Oh, so is that what this is?” I honestly saw no way I could succinctly explain the decision made in the 1990s to start interleague baseball and how few American League teams actually played National League teams during the season, let alone how it started when I was a teenager after years and years of it NEVER happening outside of the World Series. All I could say was that the Yankees playing at Wrigley Field was something that did not happen often. I know they played at Wrigley within the last 10 years, but I somehow stammered “The Yankees playing here is something that happens like once every 25 years.” I probably shouldn’t be a sports reporter. “Oh!” They replied. “And did Chicago win?” “Yeah, they won today,” I reported. “So New York’s going home pissed off then?” “Well there’s two more games to be played, but hopefully on Sunday they go home pissed off.” “Are the Yankees a big deal? They win everything right?” I looked at Liam and said, “Basically, they’ve got a reputation like Man United. Buy everything, win everything.” Liam waved his hand. “Ah, fuckin’ say no more, mate.” “But hey, at least City got in there right? FA Cup.” “‘Bout fuckin’ time, eh?!” he said. “I’m actually going to see my first City game in December,” I said. “You are?” Liam asked. “Yeah, sorry to say I’m a Gooner, so we’re gonna go see the Man City/Arsenal match in December," my friend said. “Nice one.” At this point the manager moved over toward the two of us and asked how big of football fans we were. My friend had no problem engaging in this conversation. I still felt a little too novice to speak above my level, so I just listened. I turned around toward to see Gem Archer and Jeff Wootton approaching. My mouth dropped. “Alright?” Gem smiled, nodding back. I faced forward again, thinking this was beyond any kind of belief. Gem went up to Liam and asked about his jacket. Liam raved to him about a new pair of sunglasses he’d bought that looked “Proper fuckin’ George Harrison!” I turned back to face them and there looming over me was Andy Bell. I turned back to my friend who was still talking football to the manager. My eyes still wide as dinner plates. We're now in the middle of the Beady Eye posse. I turned back to Andy and asked if he wanted my seat. “Oh no, it’s OK. You were here. I’m fine.” “You sure? ‘Cos…” “Yeah, yeah.” I turned to the manager and asked if he wanted to sit. He also declined, and I said, “Well I’m not making him stand,” pointing to my friend’s leg which was in a brace. “Oh, what happened there?” the manager asked. “It was actually, an air guitaring incident,” my friend replied sheepishly. “He gets really into it,” I said. “We’re hoping tomorrow night you guys do a nice, quiet, acoustic show, otherwise it’ll be his other leg.” We also talked Beady Eye’s output with the manager and how we appreciated the fact that they were working so fast. “When you’re a fan, it’s hard sometimes to wait years and years for albums,” I said. “Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah I think you’re right about that.” Before I knew what was happening, the band were moving out of the bar, leaving a bevy of half-finished Peronis behind. The manager got up and thanked the two of us for the chat. Liam stood up to accompany his bandmates and stepped toward my friend, shook both our hands and, said both our names and said it was a pleasure to meet us both. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.” And he was off. I looked down at my bag with the camera, 7" box set and Sharpie. Nothing to show for the moment. I didn’t think to get a picture. An autograph. Anything. I told my friend we probably could have and they would have obliged. “I’m glad we didn’t,” he said, before explaining that we got to share a moment that very few people ever will. We got to just enjoy a drink with them at the bar. Liam Gallagher actually talked to us. To have pulled out items for an autograph or requested a picture would’ve knocked us down a few steps. Would’ve made us fan boys instead of just a couple cool Chicago guys at the bar. We finished our drinks. He said, “I need a release. I’m going to have to punch you in the face or something. I can’t believe that just happened.” Genuinely the most boring thing I've ever read on the internet. No need to be harsh.
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