No maybe about it, this was definitely the ticket of the year. Immediately the gigs were announced the fever started. Would it be possible to get a hold of one in advance? Furious phone-calls were made to individuals regarded as being in the know in the business. But it became obvious early on that, for most people, there wasn t going to be any easy way. For thousands, it would be a case of having to queue . . .
And queue they did, for hours and hours, outside the ticket shop in Grafton Street, and elsewhere around the country. Sleeping bags were dug out of the depths of rucksacks, woolly jumpers were layered over woolly jumpers and those in need of that little something extra stocked up on supplies liquid or chemical to help them make it through the night. Oasis fans, it was clear, would go to any length to make the band s acquaintance live.
If 13,000 tickets were being put on sale, it became obvious pretty quickly that Oasis could have sold more than three times that number of seats. Not everyone made the pilgrimage, of course, and around the country things weren t so frantic. But for many the Dublin vigil in particular turned into a fiasco. The security in the run-up to the midnight opening was scarcely adequate. There were accusations from the shop that some of the crowd were drunk. And with the pressure mounting, and the possibility of trouble brewing, a decision was made that tickets would not, after all, be sold. Credit card bookings only would apply, the stunned crowd were informed.
Some of the fans at the front of the queue who had camped out earliest and longest in order to ensure that they d get their hands on a ticket, went home. Others, behind them in the queue, decided to hang on. Already those who d spent hours waiting into the night felt a righteous sense of grievance as they trudged home, the last bus long gone. But this was to be heightened when the original decision not to sell tickets on the night was reversed and not long afterwards, the doors of HMV were opened, and the two gigs effectively sold out within a matter of hours.
The following day it was a big media story. Feelings ran high when the charge of drunkenness was made by Tommy Higgins of the Ticket Shop on the Pat Kenny Show. There was a touch of hysteria about it all, further fuelled by the fact that tickets were offered in Buy And Sell, a few days later, for as much as #100. There s gotta be a better way, most reasonable people thought but coming up with it is the problem. It s what happens when the current biggest band in this part of the world come to town, and decide to do indoor shows. The demand for tickets far exceeds the supply and even people who originally intended to go to the gigs for the crack can sometimes become greedy.
A third gig was announced, and this one was sold via credit card bookings only. It did little to assuage the resentment of fans who d queued and then gone home when they were told to. And so the frenzy continued right into the week of the gig, with tickets still changing hands in hugger mugger encounters at well over double their face value, and more frantic calls being made to insiders.
For Oasis, however, it was all in a day s work. In their short but brilliant career they ve got more than used to this kind of shit.
After the ecstasies of Definitely Maybe, and the extraordinary ease with which they delivered an able follow-up, (What s The Story) Morning Glory?, everyone had taken the initial kudos which greeted Be Here Now largely for granted. The Oasis V8 was building up a head of steam, the engines were revved way past health and safety guidelines, and the boys were pumping iron in the press.
Noel already reckoned that they were bigger than Jesus (a lazy carbon copy remark stolen from John Lennon, and ascribed to Noel, but more likely a fallback position adopted by a hard-up hack in search of another Gallagher headline); Liam couldn t stop telling anyone who d listen (and everybody who didn t too) that Oasis were the best band in the whole wide world; and Bonehead, Guigsy and Alan White were the perfect foils for the main man's theatrics. Stoic and comparatively monosyllabic, these three shadow players bolstered the antics of the Gallaghers and, at the same time, reassured those with any reservations about the petulance of Liam that this was a band worth investing their love not to mention their shekels in.
The ante is, of course, naturally and effortlessly upped by Liam s antics, and by the fact that s there s no guarantee that they won t spontaneously combust, with spectacular effect, at any given moment, on stage or off.
That, it seems, is part of the appeal. And so it proved.

Concert day finally dawned. It was a bitterly cold night in December, but minor matters like the height of the mercury made little difference to Oasisheads. Fans started queueing to get in around 6pm. They didn t seem to mind the fact that, in order to get in, they had to be herded through what looked like miles of barriers, like sheep in a pen.
Despite Liam s documented exhortations to the fans to give life the two fingers wherever and whenever possible, they seemed quite content to amble through the maze that led to the front door of The Point. Then again, I guess if you ve camped over-night on Grafton St. for a ticket, a couple more hurdles aren t going to kill you.
Michael Wright, from Celbridge, and his mates were among the first of the fans to arrive for the opening night s show. There was no doubt in his mind as to why he was there.
They re deadly, that s all, he declared with the conviction of a true convert. Liam s a bit crazy, but Noel s a genius. They re all crazy really. That s what s so great about them!
His mate, Declan Purcell, had a cheshire cat grin on his face that hinted at a business success he was happy to broadcast for posterity.
I got a seated ticket when they went on sale, and I sold it to a tout tonight, he proclaimed, and then I bought a standing ticket for a tenner. Well, your man gave me two tickets by accident, so I ll keep one and sell the other one!
Declan s brother, Colin, had queued for his ticket for hours so he wasn t too enthusiastic about playing around with touts when such a precious commodity might be at stake.
It was overnight and I was queueing for hours outside HMV on Grafton St., he recounted, and about two hours after they opened the box office, I was told that they were sold out so I came away with no ticket. It was a bad night.
He wasn t bashful about admitting his reaction either.
I cried, I tell you, he admitted. Then one of me friends had one for tonight so I bought it off him.
Scanning the crowds as they queued outside, it was clear that the average age of the audience was being edged upwards by a small, but distinct smattering of . . . eh . . . more mature folks, who appeared to be clutching their tickets with the same steely determination as everyone else. Marie O Brien, a woman of what Maeve Binchy would describe as a certain age from Rathfarnham, was one such. Not your average Oasis fan, there wasn t a sign of a T-shirt or a Gallagher haircut to be seen, yet her excitement was palpable.
My 17-year-old son has all their CDs, she grinned, and I just love their music. I tried to get tickets for the Thursday and Friday nights but I couldn t. So when they put on the extra show, I finally got through on the phone. There s no way I d have waited outside HMV. I m too old to queue!
The fans at the first Oasis gig couldn t have known it, but, in the end, they d be the only ones with the chance to worship at Liam s altar. This was to be their only show with Liam properly on board, but Marie had, in fact, heard otherwise.
A friend of mine phoned me today and told me that Liam was very drunk, and that the show was cancelled for tonight! she explained. Wasn t that very mean of her? I got such a fright because I really want to see them.
The security barriers were heaving under the pressure of fans anxious to fast forward to the front door. The inevitable body-searching was a strain on everyone s patience but Drumcondra resident Aidan Fuller seemed relatively nonplussed by the formalities. In fact, he cut a distinctly laid-back figure in the midst of the mob.
I ve never seen Oasis live before, he admitted, but I think it ll be a brilliant night. I think Noel s a bit of a ponce, the way he goes on n all. Also I think there are too many drugs involved, so I think they should leave out the drugs. I don t mind the drink though.
Fuller ambled ahead in the queue, shades in place, Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirt hanging loosely on a pair of uncannily canny shoulders an Oasis fan with attitude.
A lot of loud stuff. A lot of ranting and raving, the usual. That s what David Fitzpatrick from Ballyneety in Limerick was looking forward to, relishing the prospect of seeing Oasis tear up the rule book onstage.
Alison, his sister, was less enamoured of the band.
What do I expect from tonight? she retorted. A headache, mostly, but I suppose it ll be an experience anyway.
For some reason best known to themselves, a carload of young fans were giving The Fields Of Athenry loads as they snaked their way around the corner to the side entrance. I would ve thought that Don t Look Back In Anger or Wonderwall would ve made a more rousing accompaniment, but, as Fred West once remarked, there s no accounting for taste.
The boys in blue, meanwhile, were maintaining a low profile, bar the odd encounter with the touts. One unnamed garda agreed to talk to me, his eyes more intent on scanning the chip vans than the punters.
You know, it s not bad at all here tonight, he admitted. We were pretty busy with Blur but this crowd aren t posing any problems. Maybe afterwards, there ll be bit of crowd control, and some traffic duty, but that s probably it, I d say.
The touts were also plying their trade with remarkable restraint. The going rate was #30 for a standing ticket, and #50 for a seated one, and they were encountering no difficulty in offloading their booty.
Deirdre Murphy and Philip Doyle, both from Wexford, had already stretched their budget to get themselves to The Point.
We paid #50 each, Deirdre admitted sheepishly, for standing room only. We d rather stand anyway! We just think it ll be one of the best nights ever.

Inside The Point, the temperature s rising. Not content with having spent a belly-freezing hour waiting outside, most of the crowd enter another long queue this time, for the bar. The merchandising booths seem distinctly unencumbered by customers, but as one seasoned salesman observes wryly: If this was the Bolshoi Ballet everyone d be stocking up before the show to make a quick getaway afterwards. But Oasis fans don t want to be lugging T-shirts and calendars under their arms while they re trying to dance. So the rush ll come a lot later.
And, true to his word, it s sardine-city two and a half hours later as fans part with their readies faster than they d pogoed in the front rows earlier on. The chest-striped charcoal/black long-sleeved tees were the biggest movers off the shelves, fans no doubt thrilled by the massive #1 reduction from #15 to #14 . . .
Scanning the crowd, I had wondered how many would adhere to the notice that said: Moshing and crowd surfing is forbidden offenders will be ejected without refund . Judging by the, eh, jollity of the assembled masses, you d have assumed that they d go to any length to have a closer gander at their Mancunian master heroes.
Now, after the show, all manner of human life jostles for space in the foyer mostly 16, 17 and 18-year-olds, and a smattering of older fans, along with a truckload of Gallagher wannabes clutching programmes and calendars tightly to their chests including 10-year-old Nathan Shine from Bray.
I m a mad Oasis fan, he declares, and my dad got the tickets through Buy And Sell just today. I only found out at about 6 o clock that we were coming!
Shine Senior isn t averse to a fistful of riffs from the band either, and he didn t balk at forking out #35 a shot once he knew he d found a kosher seller.
From about 8 o clock last night, the phone was hopping with people trying to off-load tickets, he recounts. I finally bought two for #35 each, which were originally bought for #21. But I actually had people trying to get #80 and #100 a ticket from me as well.
Judging from the frenzied audience reaction to the band, it seemed like the two subsequent gigs would literally raise the roof off The Point. But that was before the great Liam Gallagher mystery deepened . . .

It s 3pm on Thursday. Backstage at The Point, Noel Gallagher is recovering from the exertions of the previous night. Stuart Clark from Hot Press is due at 4 o clock to do an interview, and the Oasis lynch-pin is getting himself into the appropriate frame of mind when one of the band s entourage drops the bombshell: Liam won t be doing the gig tonight.
It s a fucking nightmare. And it s only starting.
Clark arrives at the appointed hour to find Gallagher in a foul mood. Ritual greetings are dispensed with. I m bored and I m pissed off, Noel announces immediately, before spitting imprecations on the apparently none-too-well head of his little brother.
He s not even turning up tonight, he complains. He s got a sore throat, so the spawny cunt s going to be sat watching telly while us fucking four idiots have to go out there and get bottled off, most probably. The cunt wouldn t even tell me himself. He got someone else to do it. I ll tell you what I m tempted to do go on stage and tell the crowd his room number so they can go round the hotel and get their money back off him.
As the interview progresses, however, Noel gradually brightens up, eventually inviting Clark to watch the World Cup draw with him in another part of the building. By the time Tunisia, Columbia and Romania have come out of the hat in England s group he s in a far more buoyant frame of mind. The Colombians don t travel well, he suggests, clearly of the view that the prospects for Glen Hoddle s boys are pretty positive.
The question as to what s actually wrong with Liam remains unanswered. The promoters, MCD, issue a statement confirming that Liam has been advised not to sing by a doctor from the Blackrock Clinic, and a special caravan is set up to offer refunds to anyone who wants them. The number of takers is small about 20 and the tickets are quickly re-sold.
Oasis may not quite be the full monty without Liam, but Noel proves to be a more adequate stand-in on vocals, and the crowd lap it up, scarcely concerned at the absence that had been debated feverishly in the hours before the gig. Noel s only reference to the crisis is to explain Liam s absence by calling him a langer.
Then just as the band are beginning to take their encore, one fan spots a familiar figure to her right. No, it isn t someone that she half-remembers from school a few years ago it s HIM.
A body makes its way through the crowd towards the stage. Maybe it was a fucking apparition, she thinks. But no. Less than three minutes later, with the encore over and the house lights flashing on, the same figure appears at the back of the stage, and careens across, can in hand, giving the remaining members of the stunned audience a bizarre and fleeting glimpse of what might have been.

During the afternoon, Liam had been holed up in the Berkeley Court, where he was staying with Patsy Kensit, alternating between the bar and the lobby. There he d greeted several fans with genuine and appealing politeness including Karen, a 13-year-old schoolgirl from Carlow (with a Howard Hughes-like determination to maintain her anonymity). Liam sat with her in the foyer, signed autographs, and passed on some words of wisdom about the music business.
Now with the show over at The Point things are almost ghostly quiet outside the hotel. Just two fans have set up vigil in the expectation that the band might return there.
We reckon it ll be worth the wait if they do, Lorna Gray remarks. We met them when they played The Point last March. We stayed out all night, and started talking to Liam when he was coming in from a nightclub. Liam s not snobby or anything.
Liam s gorgeous, her friend Karen Downey adds. When we saw them in Cork they were brilliant. I d just like to say hello to the other three in the band too. Everyone always forgets about them.
Well, nearly everyone, Karen.

Friday night: the Evening Herald had been saying that Liam would be fighting to be fit for tonight s show. Up on stage however Oasis are a four-piece again. Noel spares the audience the langer jibe and the show goes on, as it must go on, but in impressive style.
Eyewitnesses claim that Liam was virtually carried into the venue. He s far from legless, however, when he lopes onstage to bang a tambourine on the final encore, and lend some sharp-shouldered strutting to a powerful version of Acquiesce . It s a brief sighting but at least, unlike the previous night, it s right here, right now it s real, y know what I mean?
It s curious. Liam Gallagher might have a reputation for being a loudmouthed egotripper but if you really want to know what s the story, well that s hardly it.
To begin with, there s something both vulnerable and driven about him, despite his hell-raiser image. Liam s a lovely kinda man, Fran Healy vocalist with support act Travis insists. He s dead straightforward and he comes out with some corkin analogies, some really wise things that make you think. Oasis are one of the easiest-going bands we ve toured with. There s no bullshit with them at all. The energy Liam has is pretty daunting but he s still as cool as fuck.
Besides, there may be a kind of method to his madness. Noel s dependability is as essential to the band as his melodies are. But in defining Oasis rock credentials, there s no doubt that Liam brings something unique to the party even when he does fuck up.
As a provocative two-fingered salute to the fans who d forked out the readies for the gig, his appearance at the tail end of Oasis final gig in Dublin hit the bullseye. And had it happened a couple of minutes earlier, it would probably have qualified as an incitement to riot.
Liam has claimed to have more than a smidgen of John Lennon in him, and more recently, to have some of Muhammed Ali coursing through his veins. His year-long declarations that he is, indeed, the greatest, were in a curious way copperfastened by this messianic gesture.
Either that, or he s a stark raving lunatic.
Probably the truth contains a bit of both. Meantime the show does go on for now. But for how long?
I don t know if I could be arsed putting out another rock n roll record for a couple of years, Noel had told Stuart Clark. We ve done three albums in four years plus B-sides in other words 60 songs which is more than some bands produce in 10 years. I just about deserve a fucking break.
The word is on the street/that the fire in your heart is out, Noel astutely remarked in Wonderwall . Little did we know just how quickly it might be so. Then again it mightn t. The probability is that it can be rekindled once the band get a chance to step off the rollercoaster for a couple of months. Well, as Noel would probably say: Definitely, maybe.
The fans, meanwhile, will settle for definitely, and nothing less. n