A long time ago and far far away there was a band. Long before I found myself sidetracked by jazz, white label vinyl and S Club 7, occasionally my attention was distracted by what Northern England Britpop had to offer; Manchester mainly, and Oasis specifically. Every single party I went to in the mid-1990s seemed to provide that anthemic moment when every Tom, Dick and Pisshead would belt out from the depths of their stupor a rendition of `Wonderwall', `Champagne Supernova' or `Don't Look Back in Anger'. Much as I joined in, liked the song writing style and the whole re-worked-Beatles vibe going on in their tunes, somehow much of the hero worshipping passed me by. Refusing to follow fad and fashion I only eventually bought `(What's the Story) Morning Glory' at the turn of the decade when the band's powers and appeal were seemingly on the wane, and I could get hold of it for half price. Fast forward to 2006 and Oasis came to town.
It was one of those nights which summed up small-town Hong Kong in more ways than I thought it would. A group of us had bought tickets for the standing area at the Asia World Expo arena, a newly built venue located out near the airport. Even though the arena could hold 13,500 seated plus a good few thousand more standing, it certainly wasn't Knebworth. Then again, neither was it the UK nor 1996. Still, from the moment you walked through the entrance of the complex you realised that 80% of every British-born you knew in Hong Kong was probably there. There were a few diehard fans sporting shorter hair and less baggy clothes than a decade ago, but had managed to reawake the strut and the accent. Still waiting for the lights to dim, I stood in the standing area (a bona fide mosh pit it certainly was not), looking to my left and right - to the right some of the teachers I knew; bloke behind I knew from football; just ahead to the left the guy whose name I forgot the moment I met him but is very annoying when drunk; a couple of random Swedes I know ahead of him...That was the pattern - it was like being back at a huge student union party. Mainly escaping the taller, more rowdy masses, the seating areas to the left and right seemed to be more heavily populated by Hong Kong locals.
Before long the band strolled on stage, all swagger and attitude. They started off by belting out a few of their newer hits, with Liam posturing and thrashing out his numbers with that raised-chin-thing going on. Noel just looked moody, as I suppose he often chooses to be. Given that my knowledge and interest doesn't go much beyond the first two albums, I was forced into a bit of the granddad-at-the-wedding type uncomfortable two-step moves to the unfamiliar numbers. That was inter-dispersed with a periodic scanning of the crowd, an assortment of 30-somethings trying to move like they did 10 years ago but, in sporting parlance, were a yard off the pace. The atmosphere wasn't helped by the stop-start nature of the performances, with every song change seeming to require different guitars. They eventually rolled into most of the classics I'd hoped for and even let a Thai girl sit on my shoulders for `Champagne Supernova' - it was just like a real concert. But at times, it felt like the bad boys of rock were simply going through the motions, and if I'd been a hardcore fan may have felt a little short-changed. As it was, I quite enjoyed my first taste of the `mad ferret' world which provided a nice way to start a Saturday evening.
After the concert our group of five headed back into town and onto the Four Seasons hotel bar, a quite swanky relatively new joint, to plan the rest of the night ahead. It didn't take long before we grew roots there, pricey roots at that, and the champagne and spirits kept flowing. But as an added bonus, and a reason why the girls in our group were in no hurry to leave, Noel and Liam plus posse were sipping away at the back of the bar though still in prying distance. The hours passed by and Noel disappeared leaving the rest to drink away. By 3am we were planning our exit but one of our gang, Helen, was desperate to connect with the cult of celebrity, and as Liam wandered towards us she took her chance:
"Liam, we were at your concert earlier and I just wanted to say how much we enjoyed it."
"I couldn't give a fook if you enjoyed it or not" (Mmmm...not exactly the gratitude we expected but there you go.) "I got into rock and roll for the vibe.... I didn't join a fookin' rock and roll band to see you's lot just standin' doin' nothin'. There was no passion here, there was no passion in Bangkok, no passion in Singapore..."
Up until this point I played polite bystander slightly bemused by his swipe at the mugs that had just paid 50 quid each to see him. But clearly this was too good an opportunity for me to miss out on putting across a different point of view, what with expensive G&T swilling inside me as well. This was my chance to find out about the man behind the rock star. So I joined in by suggesting that you can't say there's no passion or vibe in Asia; people just express themselves differently here. What were his thoughts on globalisation and the evolution of Asia in the 21st century?
"Rubbish. What about Bruce Lee? He had the vibe," he responded. Inspired... almost Lennon-esque...
And we continued for a while, clearly agreeing to disagree at this juncture. He liked the places, hated the lack of passion. But after a bit we got to the stage where the points had been firmly put across and he asked my name and shook my hand. And as my friends looked on from a safe distance Liam then invited me over to the sofa area at the back of the bar where he and the band members (minus Noel) were sitting with various cronies. I sat at the end of a long sofa while Liam sat next to me in an armchair. Cool - I'm hanging out with Oasis!
"So, what's you name again?" he asked as he introduced me to his crowd.
"Godfrey"
"What kind of fookin' name is that?!! What the fook?!!"
(Did I miss something? Ok, not exactly the welcome I was expecting. Best find a comment that isn't provocative...)
"It's colonial - loads of people in Africa have it." (Don't know why I came out with that nonsense, but there you go.)
Liam: "Couldn't give a fook."
(Is this Candid Camera?...)
Liam: "So what do you do then?"
Me: "I work for a bank."
Liam: "I fookin' hate bankers. Fookin' standin' around in the front row like a bunch of pricks"
At this point I started to get a little annoyed. A snooty 30-something year-old groupie decides its time to chip in to annoy me further in a `Look at me, Liam. I'm on your side, Liam. Will you sleep with me please, Liam'- kind of way. She's very English, says she's a banker (a banker, for heaven's sake) and asks who I work for. So I tell her.
Groupie: "Never heard of them. Can't be a proper bank."
(Ok - now I'm annoyed)
Me to groupie: "Who the f*kc are you anyway?! He asked me over here so shut your face. And you, yeah you Liam, you don't even f*kcing know me!!"
Liam: "YOU DON'T FOOKIN' KNOW ME!!!"
Me: "I KNOW A F*KC MORE ABOUT YOU THAN YOU DO ABOUT ME!! ALL YOU'VE GOT TO DO IS READ THE NEWSPAPER!!"
Liam: "I'm from Manchester - you haven't even been to Manchester!!"
Me: "Of course I've been to Manchester!! I've got a flat in Manchester!! So I'm a United fan - what's your problem?!"
By now our cosy little fireside chat had taken a slightly different path to earlier expectations. He ranted and raved about bankers and whatever, while the cling-ons and groupies were there chipping in with their tuppence worth of crap just because that's what they do. I played along by bouncing rubbish back at them. Deep-level conversation it was not. My friends kept a healthy distance.
And so it continued until I'd had enough of it all. This cult of celebrity isn't all it's cracked up to be. Not like with S Club 7. It was just getting dull. So I stood up so as to take both the moral victory and the moral high ground: "Look, this is just a load of bollocks. You're wasting my time. I've got better things to do." As expected, it didn't seem to go down too well...
As I stepped away to leave, one of his cronies thought it would be a good idea to try to trip me up. So my dignified retreat took a turn as I rotated round to shout at him. In his defence, I doubt whether Liam actually saw why I turned back aggressively towards them, but this act of course only provoked him even more, and he jumped up off his seat. Shoulders back, chest pushed out and intensity in his eyes:
"You startin'?!! You want some?!!"
Perleeeze...2006 and still coming out with that? I can't exactly remember my response to Liam - I vaguely recall it involved some one finger gestures and a polite request that he go have sex with himself/family member. By now the security bystanders jumped in between us and started to marshal myself and a couple of my mates away. What I do remember, though, was the comment from the sofa as we walked away: "Don't look back! Don't look back!", which was either meant to be part of a song rendition or another wind up. But I continued my exit with the help of the security and apologies from a cling-on who said that it had been a tequila night for our pop star. While all this was going on our two female mates were frozen deer caught in headlights still watching, but were there to witness a fuming Liam go all rock and roll, smashing his glass of beer against the wall before attempting (but failing) to follow me out. So there you go. Another quiet night out in Hong Kong.
For a week or two my story did the rounds of expat land, dull as it all now is, and although Liam's now gone I've got bigger fish to fry - very soon Jamie "Bonecrusher" Cullum comes to town! Can't look back now.
