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Post by thatsmyattitude on Jul 23, 2010 9:36:01 GMT -5
Cost me a quid to sign up to the The Sunday Times website for the day and coud't get a link, but here it is in all it's glory cut and pasted...
Liam Gallagher: Definitely maybe, a changed man
He’s swapped drugs for jogging. Yet Liam still has a temper. He bangs on about how his new band is better than Oasis. Then lets rip about Noel
Liam is branching out from music and claims to have left his wild days behind (Paul Stewart) Liam Gallagher will only talk about Pretty Green, his clothing range. He will only talk for 45 minutes. He will not answer questions about his new group (what group?) or his forthcoming film (what film?). H which I don't, his clothing line is not exactly epoch-making — a few shirts, a few T-shirts, a parka, a raincoat, a velvet jacket.
They look, to my untutored eye, quite well made and sensibly priced, but I can't imagine discussing them for five minutes, let alone 45. So I am quite relieved when his PR rings about an hour before the shoot saying that Liam has food poisoning, though a friend spots him later that same day in a cafe in Primrose Hill.
Bye-bye, Liam Gallagher — I always preferred Blur anyway. But then his publicist reschedules for a week later, and this time, rather to my amazement, he turns up.
He arrives with two enormous blokes, Steve and Nigel, who are almost literally twice his size. He is tiny (only 5ft 8in or so), but his strutting walk and mesmerising eyes make him the dominant presence. Steve — described as Liam's business partner but also "security" — gives me another talking-to about how I am only allowed to ask about clothes, blah blah, while Liam poses for photos.
The photographer asks if he can smile, and he snarls: 'I'm not fooking Cliff Richard.' Apparently he doesn't do smiling I have never seen anyone pose with less fuss. He goes into the changing room, emerges a minute later, stands in front of the camera, click click, changes clothes, poses again, click click.
At one point the photographer asks if he can smile, and he snarls: "I'm not fooking Cliff Richard." Apparently he doesn't do smiling.
Photos over, Liam flings himself into a chair and lights up, while Steve and Nigel hover nearby, presumably ready to frogmarch me to the door if I dare to ask a non-clothes-related question.
But aha! Little do they know I have devised a cunning plan.
I have prepared what feels like several thousand questions about clothes in the hope that sheer boredom will eventually force Liam to change the subject.
So we start with a lengthy plod through his favourite boyhood clothes (Lacoste T-shirts, Adidas trainers, parkas) and his least favourite (matching Arran jumpers his mum knitted for him and his two brothers to wear to Mass, "very Val Doonican").
I ask about the most expensive garment he has ever bought (a leather jacket by Alexander McQueen, cost four or five grand but tax-deductible as stage clothes), and why it is so important to find desert boots without pointy toes.
But then I get a lucky break. He looks down at my shoes (black canvas deck shoes by Toms) and says: "I've got them. They're nice, aren't they?" Yes, I say, and the good thing is that for every pair they sell, they give money to kids in Third World countries. "I know," he says. "How many pairs have you got?" Only one, I say. "Well, I've got three. I've saved three times more children than you!" And at last he breaks into a smile.
A question about the "design philosophy" of his clothing fails to produce any thrills: "We're not like all them fashion designers. These are just for lads on the street, know what I mean?" Mm, quite. What's its turnover? Liam looks across to the heavies. "I don't like to talk about money. It's vulgar isn't it, Steve?" Steve: "We don't do numbers." Liam: "But even if it didn't make a lot of money, I'd still do it." Money is not his motive? "No. It's theirs [he points to Steve and Nigel], but it's not mine."
Apparently Steve knew someone in the rag trade and Nigel knew a suit-maker called Tom Holland; that's how they started Pretty Green. I would guess it is more their project.
Anyway, the money to be made from menswear must be tiny compared to what he can make from music? "I don't know, man. There's not much money in music these days. We were probably the last band to make money on a big scale, in the 1990s, but I'd hate to be in a band these days, thinking you're gonna get a big house. It ain't gonna happen." Luckily, he's made his pile. Oasis sold 50m records.
At the height of Oasis he says he couldn't go clothes shopping, he couldn't walk down Oxford Street, because he would get mobbed. That's not a problem now, but he always goes shopping first thing in the morning when it's not too crowded. "I don't mind signing autographs and having pictures with people, but if you want to go and do your thing you've got to go early." Isn't he grand enough to get shops to open specially? "No, I'm not! I find that ridiculous, all that shit. Listen, I don't mind shopping with the public — I am the public."
I ask what he's done so far today and he says he got up at six, went for a run on Hampstead Heath, then took the kids to school, as he does every day. Actually, he and his wife, Nicole, have only one kid, Gene, nine, but he also has a 10-year-old son, Lennon, by his first wife, Patsy Kensit, who lives nearby. His marriage to Kensit ended rather bitterly in 2000, but he's on good terms with her now. "She's all right. She's doing well at the moment. I can have Lennon whenever I want and he goes to the same school as Gene, so I see him every day."
Liam has graced various glossy magazine covers with both his famous wives (Elle/Vanity Fair) He also has a daughter, Molly, 12, the product of a short-lived affair with a singer called Lisa Moorish, but he doesn't see her. "I think it's the best way, actually. She's getting looked after, everything's sweet, but I don't speak to the mam, me and her are not on good terms. When Molly wants to see me, I'm not going to turn her away.
But as she was growing up, I thought it was the best way, instead of having me popping in and arguing with the fooking woman. It's not good for any kid, is it? She knows where I am and I'm there for her if she needs anything, like I have been since the day she was born, financially. I know it's not about that, but it's better than nothing."
It's a pity Molly doesn't see her father because he is, by all accounts, a brilliant dad.
"I am a top dad, without a doubt. I've seen other dads at school and they haven't got a fooking clue, they talk to their kids like idiots. I'm cool, man. And I'm fun and all. I'm not strict, but I'm not a pushover either. I would never hit them — I'm not into violence. And let me say this, when I take my kids to school, I'm probably the only fooking dad who is there every day. A lot of dads turn up on the first day to show off in a fast car and you never see them again till the end of the fooking year. I'm there every day. Pick-ups and drop-offs."
I am a top dad, without a doubt. I've seen other dads at school and they haven't got a fooking clue, they talk to their kids like idiots Perhaps the other dads have to go to an office, I suggest, and suddenly get my first flash of the famous Liam temper. He puts his face close to mine and snarls:
"Well, that's not my fooking problem, is it? They ought to sing or join a rock'n'roll band. They only go to an office to rip us folk off and keep an eye on their big bonuses."
Huh? Where did that come from? I don't even know what button I pressed. Maybe he thought I meant blokes who went to offices were more respectworthy? But his temper is all the more alarming because it seems to come from nowhere, like a hailstorm out of a clear blue sky.
The eldest of the three Gallagher brothers, Paul, once explained: "Liam was very psychologically affected by his father.
That's why he's so aggressive now, because he has all this hatred built up."
Thomas Gallagher, a builder and amateur DJ, was a violent and abusive man who beat the kids and their mother, Peggy. She was a devout Catholic who regarded divorce as unthinkable, but eventually told social services that she and the children had to be rehoused in order to escape. Liam was 10. The last time he saw his father was in March 1996, when the News of the World had the bright idea of taking Gallagher senior to the Dublin hotel where Oasis were staying in the pious hope of staging a reconciliation.
Liam was predictably furious and had to be restrained from punching his father. He has had no contact with him since and insists: "I've got no interest in him. He's out of my life." But it sounds as if he's relenting slightly because he adds: "I don't wish him any bad. And if he ever got ill or anything, I'd be there, but apparently he's doing well." Has he stopped drinking? "He was never a great drinker. That wasn't his problem. His problem was he should never have had kids. He wanted to be a single man and do what single men do. And he had a fooking bad temper."
Liam should know about that. In the heyday of Oasis, hardly a month went by without stories of him punching a photographer or head-butting a fan. He was banned from Cathay Pacific for "abusive and disgusting behaviour" and got into a brawl in Munich that left him with two missing teeth and a £60,000 fine. Liam says "it's not temper, it's passion". He gets angry because he cares.
Has he never thought of having therapy or going on an anger-management course? His answer — "I'm not a brat, I'm a twat" — sounds rehearsed and deliberately evasive.
But when I mention him having fights with the band, he corrects me sharply. No, he doesn't have fights with the band. He gets on very well with the band. They're working with him on his new record.
He only has fights with Noel (and the odd photographer) because Noel is the only L4E Member of the band who winds him up. "He thinks his shit don't stink, know what I mean? He thinks he's the leader, he thinks every decision he makes is right. But I should be consulted on everything. I started this fooking band. I am Oasis."
Their last mega public row was at an Oasis concert in Paris on August 28, 2009. Apparently Noel made some disparaging remark, Liam smashed his guitar, and Noel announced on his website: "I quit Oasis tonight
The level of verbal and violent intimidation towards me, my family, friends and comrades has become intolerable."
Liam says that, by the normal standards of their rows, "It wasn't that bad — I've had worse", but they have not spoken since. "Don't want to either. It's done and dusted. He's living his life, I'm living mine. I hope he's happy in what he does and I'm happy in what I do." Doesn't their mum get upset? "She probably does, yes."
Liam adopts his trademark pout to model his new clothing range Pretty Green (Paul Stewart) Was he sober when they had that row in Paris? "Yes, I was sober! I'll do a fooking drugs test for you if you like!" The Times suggested there was some long-standing resentment because Liam had never been to see Noel's young son, Donovan, but asking Liam if there is any truth in this is like lobbing a hand grenade into a firework factory.
"I have seen his son! And the fooking thing I'd like you to put across here — he hasn't seen my sons either. When I have my birthday parties, his son's always invited. When his kid had his birthday party, we weren't invited. All this thing about how he's round my house sipping tea with my kids and taking them for walks in the park — he hasn't seen my kids!" Not ever?
"He's seen them at concerts because I've brought them, but he didn't bring his kids, because it's not the place for their kids apparently. I've got a great relationship with Anais [Noel's daughter by Meg Mathews]. She comes round our place once a month. So all this about me not liking his kids is just fooking bollocks. Make sure you put that across in your article. I fooking love kids. The knobhead's talking shite as usual."
No doubt Noel will treat the world to a full history of their children's birthday invitations in his next interview (the brothers habitually continue their rows through the press when they are on non-speaks), but meanwhile the causes of the Paris row remain a mystery.
All this about me not liking Noel's kids is just fooking bollocks. I fooking love kids. The knobhead's talking shite However, it does seem to mean that Oasis has finally disbanded for good, even though Liam believes that "that kid will come crawling back very fooking soon, man". Meanwhile he has started a new band called Beady Eye with most of the old Oasis line-up.
This, of course, is one of the subjects I was told on no account to ask about, but Liam is going to tell me anyway: "We're threequarters of the way through making my Beady Eye record and we're all writing songs together. We've each wrote four. We'll have a single out hopefully this year, another one the beginning of next year, and then the album is due next summer."
Will it sound like Oasis? "Similar. Beatlesesque.
But there's a lot of it sounds more like T Rex or really old rock'n'roll like Jerry Lee Lewis." Does he hope Beady Eye will be as big as Oasis? "It'll be bigger. I've got no doubt about the music, no doubt about me. I've never sounded better. It's proper rock'n'roll. Oasis was a pop band compared to what we're doing."
The new band will also do the soundtrack for his new film, another of those verboten subjects he's determined to tell me about. The film is based on The Longest Cocktail Party, a book by Richard DiLello, about the behind-the-scenes goings-on at the Beatles' production company, Apple Records, in the late 1960s.
Liam bought the film rights and his eldest brother, Paul, is working with the scriptwriters. He hopes it will come out next year. "We're going to do the soundtrack and it's going to be mega. The world is my oyster at the moment."
Unfortunately, the Beatles themselves don't appear in the film, so he won't get a chance to play his hero, John Lennon. I've always found it odd that someone born in 1972 should be so obsessed with the Beatles because the Beatles had already split up by then — McCartney was doing Wings and Lennon was wailing with Yoko in New York.
But Liam reL4E Members the death of Lennon as a defining moment: "I was eight and I reL4E Member coming downstairs and seeing Imagine on the telly, which was pretty haunting. I like Lennon's voice. It's all about his voice, I don't care whether he was into peace, or into Yoko, I don't care how big his knob was or whether he had one ball or fooking three balls, I just like his voice. It moves me, makes me sad, makes me happy, makes me angry, makes me whatever. There are probably kids not yet born who'll like Oasis music. Music, when you do it right, lives for ever." Amen to that.
I tell him that I hope he takes care of his voice because I noticed that when Blur played recently, Damon's voice was not as good as it was. This provokes another blast of fury: "It was never any fooking good! He wants to fooking try singing the songs that we were belting out!
My veg person has got a better voice than him!" I thought he'd come round to Blur and started saying they were good? "I never said they were good. I said it was nice to have them back. There's one band I like, Kasabian. I like the Coral and a bit of Arctic Monkeys. But I don't like them as much as my band." Are there any bands he totally despises? "I despise millions of bands. But I don't want to get into that again because it sounds like I've not moved on." Even so, he can't resist adding, after a beat, "Bloc Party".
In Oasis's heyday he used to go to bed with a glass of Jack Daniel's on both bedside tables, but now he says he only drinks beer. A year ago he said that he gave up drugs definitively in 2008.
He is less precise about it now. "I'm not one of those people who goes, 'Last time I had a line was in 1989.' It could have been last week, it could have been years ago, I don't really know. It's like asking, how many girls have you shagged?" My next question exactly: how many girls has he shagged? "Dunno." He says he was never into groupies. "It's not my thing, man.
Maybe when we first started and I weren't in a relationship, I had my fair share of rotters, as they say." But he was always clear that he wanted to marry — "I believe in marriage and I believe in the family" — and indeed he married Patsy Kensit when he was only 24. On the other hand, he was unfaithful to her almost immediately with the singer Lisa Moorish, and then divorced in 2000. Since then he has lived steadily with Nicole Appleton, of All Saints, and they married in 2008.
They live in Hampstead but also have a house in Henley: "It's better than giving it to the fooking tax man, isn't it? When London gets a bit boring, I just go to Henley with the kids for them to run around." But he and Nic have no domestic staff apart from a twice-a-week cleaner. "I'd rather eat my own shit than have butlers and stuff." They keep no booze in the house. When he wants a beer he goes down the pub. He jogs every morning, takes the children to school, goes to parents' meetings, watches Deal or No Deal, and phones his mum every day, sometimes twice or three times.
His lifestyle doesn't sound very rock'n'roll: it sounds middle-aged. "Well, I am middle-aged, I'm 37. We're not the fooking Osbournes. Not that I'm slagging them off," he adds quickly. "I'm sure they've got a nice life too." Does he think his temperament is calming down with age? "I hope not. Sometimes it's landed me in trouble, and that's wrong, but I've been out of trouble for a bit. It's not temperament, it's passion, man. And the minute your passion light goes down, it's over. But when it comes to rock'n'roll, I'll fooking rock'n'roll more than any other clown on the planet!"
Steve and Nigel keep looking at their watches — we have already run way over time — and edging ever closer. "Okay, you can go," I say eventually. "So where's the cheque?" says Liam, while Steve and Nigel come and stand over me, mock-threatening. "Oh yeah, he doesn't talk for less than 10 grand." "Well, tough titties," I tell them, and they all fall about, imitating my accent, and Liam very sweetly kisses my hand.
Pretty Green clothes can be seen at prettygreen.com or at their new temporary shop in Carnaby Street.
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