I will not be joining the legions of middle aged men shouting at their wife and kids to keep refreshing Ticketmaster’s page because I saw them five times when it mattered, in the 1990s. And sometimes the past is best left in the past.
I was excited to go to a rave reunion once, and it was all a bit tragic, revellers were either comparing mortgages or arguing over child maintenance payments. I can just imagine how bad next summer’s stadium concerts will be, drunk drugged up yobs to one side, vegetarian off-the-beer types to the other.
And all whilst being charged a tenner a pint, and not being able to partake in Cigarettes and Alcohol watching the band that sang it. And that is after you have forked out for an eye-wateringly high hotel room.
Why bother when I can just close my eyes and remember?
My mate Dean, who always discovered the next big thing before anyone else, gave me a copy of Definitely Maybe in 1994 and I was hooked.
Brash, simple and a little dangerous. Rock n Roll was for our parents, it had all become a bit tame by the 1990s. America replaced the big-haired spandex-wearing rock which dominated the 80s with grunge, but the UK’s scene had yet to deal with the emergence of rave music and hip hop.
But the arrogance and attitude of the Gallagher brothers gave my generation the chance to cheer every TV being thrown out hotel windows and sweary interview.
Definitely Maybe became a favourite, and for me, was never topped by them. I liked the brothers obviously but Guiggsey and Bonehead really made the band feel like working class blokes made good. As 1994 turned into 1995 the Gallaghers became tabloid caricatures but Guiggsey and Bonehead seemed to stay the same.
Within a year the band went from playing spit and sawdust venues to announcing two massive homecoming gigs at Manchester City’s ground Maine Road on April 27 and 29 of 1995.
By then I was living in Manchester as a student and Dean pestered me to try and get tickets, which amazingly I did, four of them. But I don’t remember it being a big deal like it will be for anyone who somehow manages to A) afford £150 a ticket and B) gets on to the website.
My friends came up to Salford and were shocked I’d managed to find somewhere worse than Perry Barr to move to. Off we set to the stadium, myself, Dean, Eamonn and Nobby.