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The next guest on the couch is music industry guru, kingpin,

and former head of Creation Records.

He's political, occasionally controversial,

and he's a great friend.

He is, of course, Mr Alan McGee.

'Drowning in money.

Don't need to be a shrink to work that one out.

The wee ginger cunt from Glasgow in the land of the beautiful.

You're wondering how I got away with it, eh?

Well, I'm assuming you are. Since you're watching this film.'

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your Captain.

We are about to start our descent into Los Angeles LAX airport

where the local time is 2:34pm.

And the weather is a clear and sunny 72 degrees.

The rest of you will be travelling to '70s Glasgow

where it is a constant bleak and frosty,

and the, uh, outlook is grim.

'Glasgow wasn't all bad.

We lived in a decent house. I had two sisters, my own bedroom.

This is me doing a closing encore at the Barrowlands,

with a tennis racket. What a tool.'

Thank you, Glasgow! Good night!

Jesus Christ, have you got your sister's make-up on?

I'm not a pooftie, Dad.

Well, why are you poncing about like one? You're a bloody disgrace.

I'm pissing about, Dad.

You should be on the street with your football. Wash that shite off.

You should be on the street playing football, ya wee cunt!

'It's a cliche, but I never felt I fitted in with my family.'

But your mates don't spend it on make-up

and posters of men dressed as tarts.

'I loved my ma and my sisters.' - You're not a kid.

'But Dad hated everything I did.'

You get nothing in this life if you're not prepared to work.

'And Grandma just hated me.' - You wee ginger bastard.

'I had two obsessions back then. Same as now. Music and money.'

Advertiser!

Do you want an Advertiser, sir? Put your money in the box.

There you go, thank you.

Oh, wee man, are you into your music?

Yeah. You like T-Rex?

Aye. So what?

Nothing. They're fucking cool.

Do you like Thin Lizzy? - They're playing the Barras.

Fuck off, are they playing the Barras.

Aye. Next week.

Cockney Rebel supporting. - You mean in the Barras, aye?

Bobby. - Rebel, Rebel. Fucking ace, man.

Go get the other copy, Bobby. I'll buy it you.

Aye? - Aye.

So, where the fuck do you make that kind of money?

See, so I get 4p for every newspaper I sell, but they cost 15p.

Now if I turn up an hour early though,

five instead of six, there's no-one around.

So, I take a load of extras, sell them on top.

They don't count 'em? No.

Guess how much I made last week? - Don't know.

Guess.

A fiver.

Twenty.

I'm gonna be a millionaire one day.

What, selling fucking papers?

Fuck off, Bobby, I'm just a rebel.

Rebel!

'Dad was a talentless bastard, but he had one skill.

He could smell money, like a pig with truffles.'

I earned it. - He's not lying, Dad.

Mum, I earned it. I swear I did.

I just sell a few extras I take.

You mean steal. - Dad, I actually increased circulation.

It's OK to steal from the people paying your wages.

He's doing them a favour!

Dad, it's not fucking stealing. - No, no!

Don't you dare! You think you're clever, Alan, but you're not clever.

You know nothing.

Oh, John. John!

Darling, let me see you. Oh, you're bleeding.

Jesus. - It's no good, Ma.

I can't make it stick.

He'll have to go to A&E. - All right. Well, then, you take him, Laura.

And if anyone asks, AI, you fell when you were out.

OK?

That's my good boy.

'It was shameful if Social Services paid you a visit back then.

Like most families, we sorted out our own mess.'

Hear the band the whole world is talking about - Oasis -

live at the Hollywood Bowl, only on KPWR.

Mate, slow down a minute. Mate.

Wow, that gig is sold out.

These guys, they are like the new Beatles.

'In the 1960s, they basically buried Jesus,

and Bowie was the new messiah.

I wanted to walk where he walked and do all the things he did.

But I didn't have any talent, which limited my options some.'

OK, son, you're gonna be Murray's apprentice.

This is a big opportunity. - Right.

Hey, hey, hey. Don't embarrass me, all right?

Good boy.

'I tried not to embarrass my dad,

but that didn't stop his mates from ripping my pants off

and spraying my balls red...'

You fucking wee tube! - '..as an initiation.'

Fucking bastards.

Fucking - - You dirty wee ginger bastard!

I'm not...! Oh, no! I can explain!

'People talk about telly in reference to history.

The news about Kennedy or the Moon landing. Queen's coronation.

Fuck... that.

There was only one historical televised event in our house.'

A group called the Sex Pistols. - 'And that changed everything.'

They are punk rockers. A new craze, they tell me.

What a fucking rotter. You dirty fucker.

Musicians are such boring people.

Why should talent have anything to do with rock and roll?

Why should music be in the possession of people so dull?

I'll say nothing else about him. We'll be back tomorrow.

I hope I'll not see you again. From me, good night.

'Now there were new rules.

There were no rules.

I didn't need talent, I just needed a guitar and some mates.'

I'm Andrew Innes on lead guitar.

And on the bass guitar, the wee ginger bastard himself, Alan McGee.

What's this, son? Is this this new punk rock thing?

Aye. - What's the name of this outfit?

The Drains. - The Drains.

I don't want you blocking the drains, Bobby. Keep it down.

Aye. See you, Dad. - The fucking Drains, eh?

Your dad's cool, Bobby. What's that thing he was wearing?

Oh, he's into his politics. He'll run for Parliament one day.

Aye, he's a socialist.

My dad talks about socialists, fucking hates 'em.

What's your old man into? - Just boring stuff.

What's all this Grandma Barr tells us? Painting your pubes.

No, Dad, that was... - What's gotten into you?

This is that punk rock shite they've been talking about.

This is a decent house... Hey!

If I so much as hear you mention those sexy pistols,

you'll wish you were never born.

Now get that shit off. You look ridiculous!

And what have we got up here? Lena Zavaroni, fucking Bay City Rollers.

Alan, let's go to London. Let's just fucking go.

My dad'll never let me go to London, Innes. - You're nearly 18.

Do you know what punk means?

It's American slang for homosexuals in prison.

Have you ever even been to London? Do you know anyone there?

I can be whatever I wanna be in London.

Your dad'll skin me alive, you daft cunt.

Fucking do you for kidnapping. And you for kiddie fiddling, Alan!

Join us when you've got some pubes, hey, Bob.

We've only just started going out with each other.

You're a ginger prick, Alan!

You've got a chance to become a qualified electrician.

You cannae just leave. - Innes, it's in here, man.

Can you hold that for us, pal? Right, here we go.

It feels like... you're running away from me.

Wanker!

Fuck off!

You two, out. - Fucking hell, right.

I'll get you in the Freemasons. We look after one another.

I'll write to you every day, Yvonne. - Fucking pen pals.

No! - All right.

Think about the future, son, eh?

I'm always thinking about the future, Dad. It's you that's not.

'Los Angeles, land of the back-stabbers,

the vacuous and the soulless.

They say in London you're never more than six feet away from a sewer rat.

Well, in LA, it's the same. Except here, it's dealers,

whores, pimps... and fucking agents.'

S'up, man? How you doing? - Good to see you, Rich.

Don't mind if I do, huh?

You Brits are fucking crazy, man.

You come to LA, you hang out in a fucking hotel room.

That's why you guys are all pale. - So, we got the...?

Got the what? - The gear.

I'm fucking with you, man. Got the fucking gear.

It's strong though, man.

OK, that shit's like some new shit that's come in.

People are going crazy over that shit.

That is all there.

'Forget everything in that last voice-over. I fucking love LA!'

Later, bro.

I've got it, I've got it. Yeah, I'll call you.

Cheers, Rich.

Hey Felipe, yeah.

Oh, yeah, that's right. Yeah, Gemma, it's the magazine.

Yeah, some interview, yeah. Show them my poolside table.

I'm taking a couple of smudges.

Yeah, lovely, love you.

Oh, this is fucking great.

Well, what do you think?

It's a shithole, Innes.

That may very well be the case, but it's fucking free.

Where do we sleep? - Anywhere you like.

What the fuck, man? - It's London. What did you expect?

I'm a nihilist, man. There's nothing to it.

So anyway, I'd left a decent job, decent home, decent birds.

To move into some London shithole with my best mates

and some random smackheads.

Thought I got scurvy once.

Scurvy? - Yeah, scurvy.

Can you spell that for me?

Yeah. S-C-U-R-V-E?

No, Y. Fucking one of them.

Scurvy is like a mediaeval disease that pirates would get

from not eating properly.

'We settled down, despite the squalor.

By the time we got to London, punk was over.

It had left all these various countercultures in its wake,

all wanting to be seen and heard.

We spent our dole money making a demo.'

Bobby's learning bass with Caesar McNulty. Altered Images?

Aye. Throb's learning guitar. It's in the demo.

Just smell that, Alan. Do you know what it is?

BO? Fish?

It's the smell of possibilities. Laughing Apple.

Hopeless this morning.

No. - Laughing Apple.

I heard there's jobs going at British Rail. - British Rail?

I could go on the London to Glasgow line, see Yvonne.

Fuck Yvonne! - No, no, let's face it.

One of us needs a job.

Can't run a venue and promote a band on £13 a week, can we?

Laughing Apple. Take one of those! Greatest band to come out of Scotland!

Laughing Apple, Laughing Apple. - Laughing Apple!

Greatest band to come out of Scotland!

Fuck off home, you scroungers! - Cunt!

'We sorted out our line-up with that nihilist skaghead flatmate on drums.'

Are you sure about him?

I didn't say he could play, I said he had a kit.

It'll be fine.

So, we're the Laughing Apple and nobody knows why.

You all right? You good?

Yeah. - Thank you. Cheers.

'So now I had a proper job that I proper fucking hated.'

Come on, lads and lasses.

'But even though we weren't selling out gigs,

I was still spending every penny pressing our records.'

Ah, good.

'Surprisingly...' - We sold all the other copies.

You have?

Oh, yeah, yeah, I thought you would.

Do you have any more bands on your label?

Label?

Get your tickets out! Come on!

This year's Christmas No. 1 is from Renee and Renato,

and here they are with Save Your Love.

So, how's it working out in London, eh?

Couldn't be better.

Tell that to your pal Innes.

Had a kidney pack up and moved back.

Drugs, no doubt. That, and living in a shithole.

'Innes was more into the scene

than just the music, and he did lose a kidney.'

No, Mam, he's on the mend,

and his dad says he can move back

only if he gets a place at uni though.

We've got a new guitarist now, and he's more sensible.

So, you were shooting for the moon, but you still had a boring job, huh?

Come on, all jobs are boring, when you think about it.

Even being a millionaire is bloody monotonous, you know.

As soon as someone makes a million,

all they think about is making another million.

Well, hence drowning in money. - I told you that?

Your dream, your recurring nightmare.

A bit of sandwich would be great. Thank you.

The Christmas No.11983. The Flying Pickets.

We've started focusing on promoting the bands now, managing.

Brian Epstein, eh? Well, he was a Jessie, you know.

Yvonne, every Christmas he turns up here with you,

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Yvonne moved down to London. We got married.

She started working in the office with me at British Rail.

Tried to be a normal couple but...

We're starting a new club.

Oi!

You Alan McGee?

You owe me 15 quid cab fare.

What? You talking to me?

Where's the PA?

'Every now and then a band comes along that changes your life.

Television Personalities changed mine.'

Who the fuck are you?

'Part cabaret.' - Joe Foster.

'Part chaos.' - Musician.

Engineer. - 'Piss-take punks.'

Fuck me! This thing run on gas?

I'll need that an' all.

The part-time punks!

Thank you, thank you.

We are the Television Personalities.

This next song is the same as the last one. Only louder!

'They never made it though.

Sexton Ming and Jowe Head were performance artists

and the band was an extension of that.

Dan Treacy was a brilliant front man.

Sofa surfer, locked out one night

and kicked half to death by some cunts, he never recovered.

The Slaughterhouse Joe Foster,

the anarchist with multiple personalities, all of them mad.

Ed Ball, the coolest fucker ever, even when he lost his hair.

And Dick Green, the dullest man to ever tune up a guitar.

With these three liabilities, I knew we could take over the world.'

The 1985 Christmas No. 1, it's Shaky. Merry Christmas Everyone.

We're still working for the railways, but my next thing

is I'm trying to get this fanzine together.

To sell to fans at the gigs. Trying to get into publishing.

Come on. - Well, I am proud of you, son.

It's good to have a dream. - Come on.

We need more dreamers in this family.

Your dad's never really had a dream. Did you, John?

No, maybe it's a good job I didn't.

Who'd have put a roof over our head and food on the table, eh?

'It must have been hard though.'

It's ten to four. You're in work at seven.

I dunno. I got a real buzz out of being the outsider.

I was answerable to no-one.

Except the rail company.

True. What a bunch of cunts.

So, would you say that managing Jesus And Mary Chain

was your first big break?

Uh, you don't really see it as a break at the time

because you're too busy getting on with it but,

yeah, I knew I'd found something special.

Jesus And Mary Chain. - The Jesus And Mary Chain.

Jesus And Mary Chain.

Jesus. And. Mary. Chain.

Jesus and Mary Chain.

Hi, guys. - 'Let's rewind.

So I'm in London, getting a decent turnout for the club,

recording demos for the bands that ask, signing,

pressing and selling records for the ones that we fucking love.

In Glasgow, word is we're bigtime Charlies down in London,

and Bobby is putting Primal Scream together with Innes,

who's getting over losing his kidney.

He gets given a demo to give to me,

interesting racket, Velvets meets The Stooges.

Come down to do a gig, Joe does the sound.

But Joe had worked his way through a bag of pink speed

and hadn't slept in days.

Chaos, straight off!'

Fuck it!

'But I loved it.

I signed them.

The drummer, trappy cunt, complains about the money,

so we sack him off, we put Bobby in.

It's two drums on stands, any fucker can do it.

Abraca-fucking-dabra. Now they're sexy.

Joe does the recordings with that same mental, evil, fucking racket.

John Peel plays the record, it goes bananas.

I sign them to a bigger label. I stay on as manager.

They record Psychocandy, bang!

The album goes gold, we're in the charts.

Proper charts.'

Jesus And Mary Chain. - Jesus And Mary Chain.

The recent concert has been completely dogged by a riot.

People say that it was you who organised the riots

at the Jesus And Mary Chain concerts.

People can say what they want.

That happened tonight accompanied by rioting.

Jesus And Mary Chain.

'You see, magic isn't about pulling rabbits out of hats.

But it is about making something materialise.'

Hailed as the most controversial band since the Sex Pistols.

We're not remotely like The Sex Pistols.

Comparison's silly. Don't particularly like them, so.

We're a very commercial group, you know.

Some say that the Jesus And Mary Chain

is all about aggression, violence.

We do what The Beatles did, only we're doing it in the '80s.

We've got our eyes on the pop charts, you know.

Direct competition is, like, Culture Club and Duran Duran.

The New Musical Express compare it with Joy Division for its intensity.

Joy Division were fucking shite.

We don't like being mentioned in the same breath as them.

Joy Division were boring.

'Conjuring success and victory,

but these days, that's in film, and TV and music.

See, if you possess a certain understanding,

you can make it work in your favour.'

I'm trying to concentrate. I don't wanna know.

Gonna be bigger than U2!

'We were being magicians with Creation Records.

We were like accidental alchemists.

Sometimes we seemed to turn shit into gold.'

Alan, these bank statements.

'And sometimes, much as we loved it...

..it just stayed shit.'

Fuck!

Look, is it just the cash flow? Because if it is -

I'm afraid it's the maintenance of your overdraft and loans.

I'm about to do a deal that is gonna turn everything around.

What's that?

Demos of future releases, chart material, pure pop.

Hits!

Alan, the money you earn from managing the, er, the Mary And...

Jesus And Mary Chain. - Jesus And Mary Chain.

You can't keep funding a label out of your own pocket.

Why not? Some of these acts I've got are gonna be bigger than U2.

I've done the research. And the fact is,

the record industry in this country ain't what it used to be.

Comedy is the new rock and roll, Alan.

Newman and Baddiel, they just sold out Wembley Arena.

"That's your mum, that is."

They're very good, but do you have an act that can do that?

Will any of they? No.

What you have is a very small, potentially healthy business

with a thick and lowering glass ceiling.

What we have to do is minimise the venture,

try and increase the profits

and use them to address the charges on your debts.

Just run a small, tight ship. It's not the '60s anymore, Alan.

Or...? - Or you lose everything.

Thanks a bunch, Nostradamus.

Catch you later, eh?

Joe, I've just been meeting the biggest cunt of my life.

I need everyone, every fucker in the office, 10am tomorrow morning.

Whilst I appreciate everything that's going on...

Shut up, Ed! It's the fucking bailiffs.

Serious? The bailiffs? - Oh, man!

No, no, no, no. We've got a band called The Bailiffs.

No, no, no, no.

Demos, promos, white labels, anything you can find in this box, any value.

TV piece.

Hey! - Later.

Uh, you're Alan McGee?

As I live and breathe.

Demos, promos, white labels. Worth a fortune.

Sorry, boys, just on the phone to New York, closing a deal.

Got a band going to be bigger than U2. Unbelievable!

How much was it again? 400.

Nae sweat.

Uno.

Dos, tres...

Go on, Dick. At this rate, how long?

How long can we survive? - At this rate?

Alan, we're already dead.

You know, on a long enough timeline,

the survival rate of most things is zero.

Shut up, Ed. How long?

If we can somehow maintain this line of credit,

we've got about a month. - Month?

It's not bad, we can fix it.

Rome was built in a month.

That's not exactly the same. - Shut up, Ed.

We'll have to postpone the next release, fuck it.

We do that, we're not a record label anymore.

Ha! Well, I mean, how could things get any worse?

I'm pregnant, Alan.

By then, me and Yvonne had already split up.

'But we hooked up one night on the rebound

and she got knocked up, so...'

We're separated.

It doesn't look like we're gonna get back together, does it, so...?

Get a fucking grip, you stupid ginger gargoyle.

'See, Yvonne had had enough of the all-nighters

and the bands crashing over, and poverty.

She was having a baby

and all of that was going to stop whether I liked it or not.

And pretty rude about it.' - You horrible goblin.

So, you just weren't ready to be a father?

I had no say.

I'm keeping it. You've no fucking option.

The truth is, we'd drifted apart.

You can't afford to divorce me. You've got no choice, pal.

But see, if she'd said something, anything at all,

begged me to stay, I would have.

But when someone tells me I don't have a fucking option,

that's when I'm at my absolute worst.

I've got to prove them wrong.

So, you guys split, divorced?

Yeah, she kept the poxy semi, gave birth to Daniel.

Met someone else, you know, a good man.

Bit of a boring cunt, mind.

Waiter!

So now, I was officially single.

Thatcher's a Nazi. - Yeah.

Disgrace to feminism. - Yes!

'Free to make an absolute twat of myself at any opportunity.'

Turns out I went to the doctor's and it was piles.

Yes! - Bobby!

Oh, fuck off.

Ah! We... We played a fundraiser for the striking miners last week.

A fundraiser?

Yeah, we raised a few quid, didn't we, Ed?

Fundraising isn't gonna help the oppressed of this country.

Yes! - You have to be out there, rioting.

That's never gonna happen.

What do you mean? Of course it's gonna happen.

Look at the Sandinistas in Nicaragua. - Yes!

I'm right behind the Sandinistas,

but there's kids going without food

in those mining villages in Yorkshire.

What a bourgeois thing to say.

Stick to making your little records.

Yeah, fuck off, go on.

Stay away from politics.

Thanks a fucking bunch, boys. - Man! She's right.

Want a blow-back?

Aye, good. And you? - Still teaching?

Aye, primary school.

Couldn't handle the middle school kids.

Keep up the good work, eh? Children are our future.

All right?

Please, allow me to introduce myself.

The name is Aleister, but you can call me AI.

That's a song title if I ever heard one.

Ideas are everywhere.

You have only to reach out... and grab them.

Who is Aleister Crowley?

'Aleister Crowley, author of The Book Of Thelema,

Do What Thou Wilt, occultist and prophet. My hero!'

Famous poet, magician, artist.

Your father has a particular mind.

He only wants what he believes is best for you.

Oh, yeah! The Stones wrote that song about him.

That's right.

I once slept with faith and found a corpse in my arms when I awoke.

And yet another night, I drank and danced with doubt

and found her a virgin in the morning.

They called him the wickedest man in the world.

He was into child sacrifice. - No, that's a myth.

He was really talking about...

You know...

Wanking.

What's wrong? Can't handle the narcotics?

Get to fuck!

Calm down.

Who's he talking to? - Anyone that'll listen.

Anyone of an independent mind

must be one who resists authority.

A rebel, rebel, rebel, rebel.

Take my advice, young man. Let go of your past.

Let's round it up to a nice even number.

I'll pay you for five next time.

Stay on the path you have chosen.

If enough people agree with and follow the rebel,

then we finally achieve greatness.

'Crowley was right. We were rebels!

So what if you are going out of business?

We keep doing what we did best,

signing bands that were fucking genius.

We keep running till the wheels fell off the fucking bus.'

Here's to excess! Apparently it leads to the Palace of Wisdom.

William Blake. - The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell.

He might have been describing the entertainment industry.

How do you keep the label going?

I have a dream. We can do this, boys.

'Well, I gave that speech about tightening belts,

squeezing money out of every angle.

Facing the record pluggers, stepping up fly-posting.

Fight of our lives, all that fanny, and then Ed.'

Of all people, Ed pipes up.

Or...

Margaret Thatcher had introduced this thing called...

The Enterprise Allowance Scheme under the Conservative Government

allows you to have £40 a week extra. It's free money.

Whoever thought I'd be grateful to this fucking witch?

Only joking. This bit never happened.

You were running Creation Records on 40 quid a week each.

We were the coolest label on the planet and running on empty.

Ogden's Nut Gone Flake, the Faces.

Why has he got such a way with women?

You know why? - Go on.

Cos he listens, or rather he pretends to.

It's a bad example, yeah. - Where the fuck have you been?

But what's the point in that? I mean, look at her.

She's not gonna have sex with him.

More chance than you or silly bollocks dancing with himself.

That's what's brilliant about it.

Lovely talking to you, darling. Sorry your boyfriend's a tosser!

Hey, big day tomorrow. Yeah?

It's fine, I know what I'm doing. Piece of piss.

Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?

Nah.

Uh, excuse me? - Alan fucking McGee.

I'm not gonna bullshit you, man. There's no need.

You know what we do, and you know we're fucking good at it.

Let's face it, AI.

You have got a very, very cool record label.

And with us behind you, you could become a very wealthy man.

So, we are owned by a corporation,

but they let us do what we like, you know?

The bean counters just leave us alone

to get on and make great rock and roll records.

Great! - Good, yeah, fuck!

Yeah, bottom line.

I'm just like you, AI - a maverick.

Difference is, I do my thing on the inside.

That's the only way to get results.

Sure, OK.

People say to me, "Hey, Mitch, you used to have that cool record label."

And I say to them, "Well, really cool is great,

but it didn't get me that chateau in the Ardennes."

Or that Primrose Hill postcode, you know what I mean.

'I've got a vivid imagination.' - Everyone wants to get rich, AI.

If that means getting fucked in the arse every once in a while, so what?

It hurts initially.

But it's the kind of pain you forget.

Like childbirth.

You all right, AI?

Sorry? Yes.

Uh, what were you saying?

I was saying, "Have we got a deal?"

'Corporate always fucks what's cool.'

Wait a minute. You turned down a deal

from a major record company and went to a loan shark?

Yeah! See, corporations want to own you forever.

The loan shark just wants his money back.

It's a more honest transaction. You don't pay them...

they break your fucking legs.

But eventually, you did sign with a corporation.

Eventually, but on our own terms.

We weren't doing it for ourselves but for the bands.

We had a couple of indie hits in the charts.

I paid them back and we were flying again.

Fuck that mullet guy! I didn't need a chateau in the Ardennes,

whatever the fuck that is.

All I needed was some mother's little helpers.

Dexys, Dennys, Bobbys, Bennys,

Charlies, Farlies, Jellys, Fannys,

Red Devils, Black Bombers, Purple Hearts,

Special Ks...

Everything was absolutely fine.

Exactly how long has he been in the fucking studio?

Which studio? This is their fifth.

Kevin Shields is a genius. - Shut up, Ed!

He's absolutely killing us!

You know we're already up to £250,000 in a recording.

He'll fucking ruin us! - There's no fucking end in sight.

Hey, Joe, you get yourself down there,

get on the desk, you're a brilliant engineer.

Get this mixed by the end of the week. - He won't let me near him.

He's not even returning our calls. - He's got this sonic vision.

Shut up, Ed! He'll have a hole in his head when I'm done.

I've had to remortgage my own house. - Jesus.

I know. - You own a house?

I don't need this shit!

My mum is sick and I've got a money-spunking

mad fucking genius who won't return calls. Fuck this!

Excuse me, sir. Can I help?

I'm here to see my band. - Which band?

My Bloody Valentine.

Oh, right, yeah. Er, are you Alan McGee?

Yeah. Can you let me in, pal?

Well, I've been instructed not to.

Instructed not to? Instructed by whom?

The band. Mr Shields.

Get to fuck, you jobsworth!

Who do you think's paying for this fucking studio?

Who do you think's paying your wages?

Now get in there and drag that slippery cunt out here now. Kevin!

If you don't calm down, I will have to call the police.

Aye, good idea, call them. I want to report a robbery.

They're my fucking band! You've had everything I've got!

Of course he's a genius, but two years?

It's not the money - well, I suppose it is. It's gonna cost us half a million.

But what really hurts is that we believed in him

and he treats us like this. I know the man's a sonic pioneer.

I know he's pushing the envelope.

I know he's making futuristic music.

Problem is, by the time we get to release it,

the future will be a distant fucking memory.

We'll all be long dead. I'm not a philistine.

I know art takes time, but come on, man.

Two weeks to master one track, two fucking weeks.

Cheers. If you can drop me here... - We're not a taxi service.

That's perfect, thanks.

Not for me, a load of fucking shit.

'But from every negative comes a positive.'

What the fuck is this place?

It's where the youngbloods hang.

This is my scene, man.

Boosh, boosh, boosh.

Bez.

This is Alan. Alan, Bez.

'They called it acid house and I appreciated the energy.'

What are you drinking?

What's that?

What is it? - Ecstasy.

'No-one was drinking, just water.'

Hydration. - 'I fucking hate water.'

Give it 20 minutes.

'But it was when the ecstasy kicked in that I really fucking got it.

See, in the old days, it was cheap speed made in bathtubs.

Or prescription uppers, Dexys, Bombers,

both of which are pretty antisocial.

And nobody could afford cocaine, that was far too chic.

But this stuff, Es, cheap and friendly.

A revelation and a revolution.

It all became clear in that instant.

Pop culture never dies.

It reincarnates.

Everything was gonna be all right.'

The future has arrived, Ed.

We gotta get Bobby into this, Gillespie.

He'll fucking love it, man!

'And then, Ed, again of all people, Ed pipes up.'

We should put acid records out.

Ed, you're a genius, man. Yeah, definitely.

I'm telling you, man. I've got it all planned.

We can start sampling bits of film, Alan.

And I know all the DJs.

What's this beat you're spinning, mate? - It's great.

It's a dishwasher.

All these records that we're gonna be putting out.

Where the fuck are we gonna find the acts, eh?

Manchester.

Manchester? - Yeah.

If I ordered a chicken sandwich and an egg sandwich,

which one do you reckon will come first? - What?

Full of weirdos.

Alan! Is he in here? Where's Alan?

Does he know? - Know what?

He's gone. - He's gone where?

Alan, he's gone.

What do you mean, gone?

Gone to Manchester.

What, for a meeting?

Alan feels like he needs to be submerged in the waters of acid house.

I wonder where he got that from. - Him and his silly bollocks.

Alan doesn't need to be in Manchester!

He needs to be in London with us. Running his record label, remember?

Good luck trying to get him back, Dick. Much better drugs up there.

How is it little fishes can swim with big sharks and not get eaten?

Faster, more nimble.

'I could be like BMG, they're a great white.

They notice a scene rising up.

An A&R arsehole has to take it to an executive arsehole.

Who's got to take it to the chairman arsehole,

and if they agree, they take it to the lawyer arseholes.

Then they all go to their marketing arseholes.

When everyone's got their fingers out of each other's arseholes,

they might sign a band.

By then, everyone's missed the fucking boat.

With Creation, it was just me, and I'm at the scene.

I had first choice. I had the artist signed,

recorded, pressed, and spinning in clubs

before the corporates could open a bottle of chardonnay.'

You left your business, all your staff, without any warning.

Yeah, well, that's rock and roll. It was just like grab a bag

and fuck off someplace, no planning, no packing.

Shite like that, just vanish. - No, not when you have a business.

The boys all had it under control.

Besides, when I got back, I was totally rejuvenated.

I need that Polygram contract now!

'We were a solvent business,

flying by the seat of our leather pants but getting away with it.'

These guys are gonna be bigger than U2, ya cunt.

No. But I've got it in front of me in black and white.

Creation Records? - What?

Alan McGee-san desu ka? - McGee.

That's me.

Ed! Ed! Help me out here!

Girls... Teenage Fanclub are now my band.

I will ring him the fuck again, then.

Yeah, I'll be right up. Get me a flight to Glasgow!

No, no, a flight tomorrow's no good.

Hey, pal, can you drive me to Glasgow?

Glasgow?

Mate, mate! Hold the train.

There's another one in half an hour. - Thank fuck for that.

It's the sleeper, mind, but you'll still get there.

The sleeper?!

Fuck!

Fuck!

Susie!

Laura!

She's gone.

I tried. I couldn't get a flight. - It's all right, Alan.

I tried. I couldn't get a flight.

It's OK, darling, you're here now. You're here now.

What song was that? - I just made it up.

You just made it up?

Do you know anything I know? - I don't... I don't think so.

I'm sure you get this from my side of the family though.

I'm sure it's not your dad. - Oh, God, no.

You keep practising, son. You keep practising.

Aye.

You're gonna be a big star one day. - I hope.

Alan, I've been saving up, just wee bits here and there.

It's not much. I want you to take it. - You don't have to do that.

I know I don't have to do it. But I want you to go to London.

And get started.

You follow your dream. Come back a big pop star.

Show your dad. Show everybody.

That's my boy.

Oh, you can hammer away all you like.

Let me in!

No, I will not, John McGee.

You have got my heart roasted.

You've laid a hand on our Alan for the last time!

You would cause a fight in an empty fucking house

and now you've got me swearing!

You're just jealous!

You're just jealous because Alan's different! He's artistic!

He's got imagination and you have got none!

Alan, coming?

Yeah.

Such a shock, you know.

Thank you so much for coming over. I really appreciate that.

How are you doing, Alan?

I've got a splitting headache.

I'll get you something.

There you go. Taking drugs at your mother's funeral, eh?

It's paracetamol. He's been having headaches.

Dad, please. Dad.

Da.

'They say, other than losing a child,

losing your mother is the worst bereavement,

and it happens to nearly all of us.

I wish it had been that sour-faced old coffin dodger I was burying.'

Wee ginger bastard.

How you feeling, mate?

Sorry about all this. I mean, they insisted on staying.

I can get rid of them.

Let them sleep.

We were living the rock and roll even more than the bands were.

Surely that made things harder to get done?

Not really, because we only did something if we really believed in it.

And somehow an album would just, like, appear, materialise,

and suddenly, everything would just make sense.

You've fucking done it!

This is gonna go down as one of the greatest albums in rock history!

And it's my mates from school!

Bloody man!

You're the fucking dude, man!

Oh! You guys are gonna be bigger than U2!

Wished that you would have come to join us here,

be part of Creation and...

Oh, fuck that.

I'm down to one kidney. You cunts would have fucking killed me.

Are you off your head?!

'I suppose we were a victim of our own success.

Three international hit albums.

We'd done amazing by ourselves.

But we had to move forward.

Not for us. We owed it to the bands that stuck with us.

Acts that would never leave.

But deserved to be heard by the whole world.

We had no choice but to take Sony's money.

It's time to stop fucking about and grow up.'

So what if we're owned by a corporation?

They let us do pretty much what we like.

The bean counters leave us to get on with making records.

Yeah, but I'm a maverick. I'm doing my thing inside...

'No matter how much smoke they blew up our arses,

Sony didn't care that we were the coolest record label on the planet.

And all the critical acclaim meant fuck all to them.

We had to deliver a band that were gonna sell multi-millions.

A band that could justify their investment.'

'See, I'm a tight bastard.

That Sunday was Mum's anniversary

and I'd gone to visit my dad and my sisters

on a cheap away-day return.

I hadn't packed a bag, didn't even have a toothbrush.'

What time's the next train? - Oh, that's it for tonight.

Next one's 6am. - I'll get this one, then.

Hold on! - No! Sorry!

Oh! You again, you jobsworth cunt.

Cunt!

'See, this jobsworth prick,

this prick didn't know it, he changed history.'

Fuck!

Fuck you!

All right, Susan.

Yeah, I missed the bloody train.

I know. Got any plans?

Well, if you're not sick of the sight of me,

I've got 18 Wheeler playing down at King Tut's.

Get there early, check out the support, maybe.

Oh, come on, Alan. Dad's never exactly been good

at showing affection, has he?

Too late for affection, just appreciate a wee bit of recognition.

He still thinks I'm a deluded wee punk.

He does not, he recognises you're doing well, he's just torn.

Torn?

Aye, he doesn't understand all this music business stuff.

He's frightened you're going to fall on your arse.

See, he wants me to fall down and just stay the fuck down,

but I keep getting back up.

He does not, he just wants you to have a job with security.

Security? Talk about delusional!

I've got a company with Sony, for fuck's sake.

Oh, I know. You're Thatcher's little wet dream, you, ain't you?

You're an entrepreneur!

I don't care who you're friends with,

you're not booked, so you're not playing tonight.

What, you want a slot? I'll give you a fucking slot in your throat!

What are you drinking? - Vodka tonic, please. I'll get us a seat.

Cunts!

Double vodka and tonic, double Jack Daniels and Coke, please.

Hey! You're Alan McGee.

Local boy done good.

What brings you home, pal? Oh, just a bit of family business.

Any of this lot yours? - Aye, 18 Wheeler.

And then my pal Debbie is on support.

What was that about at the door?

It's just some Manchester band giving me some fanny

about saying they were booked to play tonight,

but it's the first I've heard of it.

Looked like it was going to kick off. - Aye.

Hope not tonight though, because I've got no bouncers.

But don't tell them that. - Better squeeze them in somewhere.

You don't want a bunch of Manc scallies kicking off.

Trust me. I lived there. - I will, AI.

Gave 'em 20 minutes. Give the DJ time to go for a shite.

What they called? - Oh, it's a crap name, man.

Oasis.

Malcolm! Malcolm!

Go and have a fag.

It's 20 minutes, you understand?

We start proceedings with a band who should be called

Fucking Cheeky Bastards.

I'd like to welcome to the stage, Oasis.

Get on with it!

I mean, there's you talking about the recognition you need fer yer own dad

and you're no paying attention to your own wain.

He's just a kid, and that's your family.

Dad's got a grandson he doesn't even see.

Do you think that does nae disappoint him?

In just under three years, Oasis will have gone from

being a new signing to one of rock's true giants.

The live gig of the decade.

Oasis gears up to rock a quarter of a million fans.

Oasis is gonna play to more than a third of a million people

in just over one week.

I don't know any teenage lad who wouldn't wanna be like them.

I don't know any teenage girl that would say

that they didn't actually want to go out with Liam Gallagher.

Noel! I love your eyebrows. They're sexy!

The most honest band on the planet. - We're not pop stars, we're lads.

Nice one.

Did you hear that?

Yeah. Good band.

Good? They're fucking amazing.

Hey man, come here.

Who do I talk to? - What, in the band?

Aye. Who's the leader?

Joan of Arc.

He's the only sensible cunt amongst them.

Do you want a record deal? - You what?

Do you want a record deal? I'm Alan McGee.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, no.

I know who you are.

You're not already signed, are you?

No. - Have you got a manager?

No. Do you want a tape?

I don't need a tape, I've heard and seen enough.

Mate, calm down.

You've had a drink, and you're a bit excited. Take a tape.

'That tape had most of Definitely Maybe on it.'

The fastest-selling album ever. 25 weeks in the charts.

With singles like Live Forever!

Rock 'N' Roll Star!

'See, Noel had been writing songs since he was 16.

Liam... Liam was just a born rock star.'

Give it up for Oasis, making their TV debut with Supersonic.

Put this on it.

My band's just nicked the headliner's rider,

so we're gonna do one.

Big fan of your label.

Hey, hey.

'It was a case of right place, right time.

Synchronicity.'

Fuck you!

'From the moment I was born, I was meant to miss that train.

Some people's destiny was to meet particular people

or go to foreign lands.

But my whole life had been leading up to me missing a fucking train.'

Now you had one of the biggest bands in the world.

Finally, bigger than U2.

Where does it go from here?

Well, for me, it's a party in a club on Sunset. You coming?

I'd love to, but I have a deadline.

Hey. Can we meet up again when I'm back in London?

I can do an update piece. - Absolutely.

Oh, if there's one thing I love more than being talked about,

it's being written about. - I just wish I could write it.

What're you talking about? - It's a puff piece, mainly photos.

Oh!

Tell them to get tae fuck, go and sell it to Rolling Stone or someone.

Tell 'em, Alan McGee is up there with Brian Epstein,

Peter Grant, Malcolm McLaren,

as one of the greatest rock managers in history.

That's what I'd tell 'em anyway.

You're so modest. - Modesty gets you nowhere. Listen.

I know that every fucker out there knows that I'm talentless.

But I'm a situationist, huh?

Yeah. - I make things happen.

Sheer determination, I get it.

You do. - Well, let's definitely meet up in London.

I might be in a position where I can write a piece that matches your ego.

That's a very noble ambition. Good luck with that.

Hey. Oh, can I have my glasses?

Thanks. Have fun at your party.

'Like I said, LA, land of the soulless.'

Cheers.

'The vacuous, the backstabbers and the poofs.'

Oh, hey, man. - 'The wannabes.'

Noel and Liam, is it true they just beat up each other?

What? - You know, make out we're brothers

beat the shit out of each other on stage. - Right!

Hey, we're just doing this fucking...

Nice shoes.

Oh, you like them?

Got them in Japan. By some miracle, they've survived Glastonbury.

Are you English?

Scottish. - Ah.

And this Glastonbury, is it... Is it close to Liverpool?

I love the Beatles. - It's a festival.

Like Burning Man, but with rain and mud,

and fucking awful toilets. - Cool!

So, what brings you to LA?

Bit of business.

Huh, yeah. What is it you do?

I own a record label.

Really? - Mm.

Wow, that is so interesting

because, um... I'm a singer-songwriter...

Della.

Will you... Will you take a listen?

I mean, it needs work, but it has my number on it, on the back.

'Now, one of three things can happen here.

She gets what she wants.

I get what I want.'

I'm like a cross between Joni Mitchell and Patti Smith.

Creation would be the perfect label for me.

How do you know I own Creation?

'Or we both get fuck all and jog on.'

Don't try and hustle a hustler.

I've got people listening to demos all day long.

Thank you.

Fucking asshole!

Alan!

'You see this Charlie? Someone else that's going to change my life.

And not for the better.'

Yo! Jeez! Fucking...

'I couldn't remember his name for the life of me.

But when you've done enough drugs,

you just open your mouth and say the first name

that comes into your head.'

All right, Ralph?

I was just talking about you the other day to um...

Oh, what's his... Tall fucker with the piggy eyes.

Who gives a fuck. How are you, darling?

I'm good, Ralph. You?

Yeah, really great. Actually, really smashing.

How was rehab? - Fantastic, best ever.

I'm producing again. - No way!

Yeah, I know. - Back in the film game?

Be totally different this time, I swear to God.

A little bird told me you are fucking killing the music business.

World domination time. - Too modest.

Um...

Fancy a cheeky toot?

I shall live and die in LA.

'There are a million Ralphs in LA.

Trustafarians who left the public schools of England to be Hollywood producers.'

Of course, they cut me out of the inheritance.

But who needs a fucking castle?

'Never seen a frame of anything he's produced

and I don't think anyone else had.

Just met at some forgotten Hollywood bash somewhere.

That's the thing about cocaine.' - Shall we?

'You end up sniffing it off toilet seats with total strangers

who become your best friend for the next few hours.'

Ah!

What's your new movie about?

Oh, I met this amazing, really charming young man

from Compton, called Hercules The Reaper.

Actually...

Oh, this place is absolutely moribund.

Let's go to his club. - Club?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's right up your strasse.

Let's go. - Come. Tidy up.

Here we go.

Oh, Christ.

Ralph, give us a couple of beers, will you?

This is the life, love this town.

Ah!

So, what is this film? Is it like some kind of... documentary?

It's a biopic. The story of a man's incredible life.

It looks like a vanity project because he's paying for it all,

but it's not. Forrest Gump meets Boyz N The Hood.

Forrest Gump?

What's that about, then? - More like a black Forrest Gump

with good music.

We're lucky. We'll have them singing songs

and shooting each other in the playground.

I hate biopics.

Yeah, let's hope nobody else thinks like you, you cunt.

Do you need some music for it?

I don't... What, your kind of music?

I don't think so, unless they're gonna black up.

Hey!

Herc, my brother.

This is my very good friend, Alan.

Where are you?

He's a major player in the music biz.

Major.

Pull up. - Thank you.

Hello, how are you?

Ralph tell you, they're making a movie about me?

What?

A movie, yes. - Some real shit, rags to riches.

But Alan's just like you, Herc.

He's from the hood. - What?

Well, in the UK, we call them council estates. It's the same thing.

It's just lots of poor people crammed into suffering together.

I'd like a visit to the UK one day. Not at the moment, though.

Feds won't let me leave the country.

Oh, the Feds are persecuting Herc, Alan.

They're all up in his shit.

They won't give a brother a break, right?

Right, well...

Brother, take it to the VIP.

Laters, homes. You...

In here. - What's happening?

Whatever you like, my friend.

What happens in Compton stays in Compton.

Hello, ladies, this is my friend, Alan.

He's terribly shy.

Oh, Sleeping Beauty. Welcome back.

This is Maurice.

Fucking mentalist.

I said... I said you might give him a record deal.

Maurice, you haven't already got a record deal, have you?

Shit. I didn't... I didn't think of that.

He might... He might already have a record deal, I don't know.

Ricky ticky tick, ricky ticky ticky ticky,

ticky ticky tick tick.

Ralph.

Can I have a wee word? - Yeah, yeah, sure.

As I say, you're on my soundtrack, I swear.

How did we end up in a fucking crack den?

I know.

It's awesome, isn't it?

Alan, no-one's going to jack you.

They all know I'm down with Herc's crew.

Looking at that lovely lolly there, it reminds me,

there's a fabulous whorehouse over there I used to frequent.

Wanna pop in for some breakfast and a happy ending, hmm?

Take me to the hotel. - All right, Grandpa.

There we go.

Ah, I'm afraid I can't take you up the hill.

The reverse is a little unpredictable on this thing.

It's all right.

Oh, well. Better out than in, as Mummy used to say.

Oh, now listen, tonight, there's a fabulous bash

in Topanga, porn producer friend of mine.

Wall-to-wall totty. Fancy it?

I'd better not.

Fine, well, I'll give you a tinkle later in case you've grown your cock back.

One for the road?

We begin with that breaking news.

A state of emergency in California.

Here's what we know right now.

Homes have been destroyed there.

Mandatory evacuations...

..California this morning.

I want you to take a quick look at this town.

That's actually the main part of the...

I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you.

Exhaustion, panic attacks, it's a breakdown, Ed.

Looks like the rock and roll has finally caught up with me, eh?

I'm gonna stay with you as long as it takes.

I need you to get me the fuck home.

I can't stay here, this place is evil.

Hey, how you doin'?

Nice and cosy, you're all right, mate.

Just some Valium. - You don't need that.

You know, a fear of flying comes from

the fear of not being in control.

And that's caused by the fear of

not feeling worthy of your position.

And that leads to all sorts of things like...

excessive drink, excessive drug-taking.

For fear of actually engaging in reality,

because in reality...

we're not in control.

That's why God gave everyone an ego.

To feel like we're important enough,

to feel like we're in control.

That's pretty deep, Ed.

You've got so many people that love you, so many.

You're gonna get all the help you need.

I just want you to get better, Alan.

Hey, this joint took some finding.

Avoid Central London these days. How long are you in town?

Four days. I'm doing a piece on Bono with Rolling Stone.

Ouch! - It's been years.

Tell me about it. You're doing really well.

I read a lot of your stuff.

That Lou Reed piece. The memories of Michael Ronson piece.

You read that?

Hey, I heard that you had Bill Clinton come

and crash at your house.

He was looking for somewhere free to crash. He's a tight cunt like me.

So I think someone from the Labour Party hooked it up.

Oh, yeah. I wanted to ask you about that.

You'd taken some time off.

'Now, call it what it was. It was a breakdown.'

'Agoraphobia.

Or a-gora-phobia as the Americans call it,

which makes it sound like some kind of luxury wool.

No, it ain't woolly, it's fear and dread.

It's all around you and it's far away.

It's just fucking terrible.'

I went to therapy, all that jazz.

Just get better. - Yeah, all right.

See you soon.

Fuck.

Come in, come in.

Oh, no. No, no.

No, here.

Oh, sorry.

It's OK.

Hm! Talk about predictable, eh?

I suppose I was feeling extremely pressured.

My parents are high-flyers.

I wanted them to be proud of my achievements.

All of the time though.

Did you read the info on the Alcoholics Anonymous?

I'm with Groucho Marx.

I wouldn't want to join a cult that would have me as a member.

They're not a cult.

I started self-medicating. Prozac, Valium, betablockers.

Me too, but I was writing myself prescriptions

for ecstasy, speed, coke, acid, whisky, almost every day.

I've been trying to contact you. Where you been?

I've got something here that'll liven you right up.

'If there's one thing dealers hate more than not being paid,

it's being paid.

You owe them, they've got the upper hand.

Pay off the debt, they lose interest charges.'

Don't have to settle the tab yet. - How much is the tab?

How much?

'They're no different to bankers. It's exactly the same transaction.'

Thank you. - But Alan, you're my best customer.

There we go, there we go. All right?

All right. Well, look...

Give me the money for that next time.

'They just have a better product.'

Oh, shit.

That's Alan's dealer. He's not in the kitchen, is he?

Where is he?

That was my dealer just round, eh?

Flushed it down the pan.

At least your ones were over the counter.

Well, it's not important what type of crutches we all use.

See, what's important is getting to the root of

why we needed those crutches in the first place.

Education, education, and education.

Susan's gone to meet a doctor, he's got a clinic.

'Crutches?

Oasis were becoming the biggest band on the planet,

and here I was, a shivering mess.

It's like I was throwing the best party in the world

but got shit-faced the night before and was too hungover to join in.

Was I the ghost at the feast?

The mythical creator of this world, hosting this party in my absence.

Truth is, no-one gave a fuck.

The party just rolled on, whether I was there or not.'

What the fuck?

I replaced it with cold tea.

You're a man, it's up to you what you do with your life, son.

I don't want this to come across the wrong way, but...

Oh, go on.

Bottom line is...

it was fun.

I was having a good time. I could afford it.

The only person I was putting at risk was me.

If someone had said to me,

"Hey Alan, all that shite is gonna fuck you up one day",

truth is, I still would have done it.

And you know something?

If I wasn't such a fucking lightweight,

I wouldn't be sitting here right now in this circle of whatever.

I'd be out there, be out there with my mates right now.

If I had the constitution of some of the rock stars I was looking after,

I'd still be out there, taking everything in sight.

Yeah!

It was exceedingly dull.

It's just noise, boom, tack!

Twang, twang!

Music does not exist in science.

Why is it some noise...

'See, what you call something completely changes perceptions of it.

You say "nervous breakdown" people think "funny farm",

but you say rehab, now you're cool.'

I've got millions riding on a bunch of noises

that it's impossible to even quantify!

It's enough to make anybody absolutely crackers.

'You're an industry casualty.

It's like membership to the Terminal Fame Club

Of Rock And Roll Fatality.'

I can come back tomorrow if you like?

No, you're good, you're good.

Everyone's asking about you. - Oh, yeah?

What did you tell them?

That you're ill. - Just tell them the truth, Dick.

It's nothing to be ashamed of.

What, that you're in... rehab?

Yeah. It's pure rock and roll, isn't it?

Thank God for that.

I was running out of illnesses. You know I told The Guardian

that you was having an operation to remove piles?

Fuck off! What did you tell them that for?

Well, I had it done.

Could you not think of something a bit more sexy than piles?

Well, maybe we should tell them

that you're having plastic surgery on your penis.

Tell the world I've got a tiny cock!

How's that sexy? - No, no, no, no, no.

You're gonna have a penis reduction.

Christ, Dick, just stick to the rehab story!

Keep my cock out of the press.

OK.

This came for you as well. It's addressed to you personally.

New Labour?

But it did get me off the rollercoaster for a while.

As soon as I got out though, I knew I needed to reconnect.

'I started going to see my bands again.

It felt strange watching them straight.

I was still the same Alan, only now I was seeing things

that I would remember the next day. And most of it...'

Till the day you fucking die.

'..wasn't worth remembering.'

Just gotta get in your own world, man.

You know what I mean, like, sort it out.

Everyone gets told they're worthless. Like, you've gotta prove it, ain't you?

Maybe one day they'll sit up and listen.

As you were, Alan.

What's he like, eh?

'And I'd lost Joe. Creation was becoming too corporate

for our in-house anarchist.'

I think this is as much as Dick could squeeze out, you know.

I'm sure it's a fortune.

Please stay.

Nah, not for me.

Bloody rock and roll, all them corporate tosspots!

It's been a blast, though. - Yeah.

Here they come, la-la-la-la-la-la, come on!

La-la-la-la-la-la, the part-time punks,

the part-time punks, here they come!

La-la-la-la-la-la!

La-la-la-la-la-la! La-la-la-la-la-la!

The part-time punks!

'And there he went, the world's wealthiest anarchist.

And in true unconventional style, went on to marry a midget.'

You know what, Ed?

I just realised...

I don't know any of these people.

You resented Sony.

No, it wasn't resentment, it was more...

I'd given my favourite toy to the big boys.

Now I had nothing left to play with.

So, is that when you started getting into politics?

Well, they do say politics is rock and roll for the ugly.

'I started hooking up with Malcolm McLaren.

The Sex Pistols were my favourite band, and I was in awe of him.'

Ennui's a killer, Alan. Everything I've done,

the shop, the clothes, The Sex Pistols,

the opera, the hip-hop, the art, was all a reaction against boredom.

Since man learned to harness fire, and build shelter,

and clothe and feed himself,

boredom reared its ugly head.

All creativity, all culture, is a reaction against boredom.

You've done hedonism

and you need to find something to stop you from falling

into that claustrophobic comfort.

We are alchemists of magical stuff.

We take boredom and we weave it into a spectrum.

A gift not often bestowed.

We are masters of other people's destiny.

You've always voted Labour, right?

Mam always voted Labour.

What do you think about this Tony Blair dude?

I think he's giving them a real chance of winning the election.

Did Noel agree with you?

Noel's like me.

Good on him.

Listen, we can help, they fucking love us.

They want us to get involved.

You can't tell him what to do.

British music brought £8 billion into the country.

'But you can lay out the facts

and trust that he'll do exactly what you want him to do.'

We represent all this Cool Britannia bollocks.

They still didn't win the election. - But they will this time.

It's fucking obvious, it's the right idea.

And the winner is... Oasis!

Politics isn't that much different from entertainment.

Seven people in this room tonight

will give a little bit of hope to the young in this country.

That's me, our kid, Bonehead, Guigsy,

Alan White, Alan McGee, and Tony Blair.

And if you've all got anything about you,

you'll get up there and shake Tony Blair's hand, man.

Why, because it's like selling an idea, right?

Correct.

Packaging and selling.

Ah, Alastair Campbell, Communications Director,

we spoke on the phone, and you are...

..Alan McGee.

Where's Tony?

Oh, Tony can't be with us, I'm afraid.

Have you met Peter Mandelson? Mandy!

Mm-hm.

We've got Peter to thank for the modernisation of the Labour Party.

The man is a political genius.

Peter, Alan McGee.

Oh, super! Man of the hour.

Ah! Dying to meet you, Alan.

Can't tell you how much we appreciate your help.

Do you really think that it's a good idea

for pop stars to get involved in politics?

Do you think you can influence the future Labour government?

What's in it for you, McGee?

Well, we're all big fans of The Oasis, and The Blur.

Blur aren't one of my bands.

It's all Britpop, isn't it?

Spice Girls? - No.

Silly. - Thank you, sweet boy.

Saving me once again from humiliation.

Nothing in it for me. I pay something called income tax on my earnings.

It's supposed to be spent helping people less fortunate than me.

I just want to see others given a chance.

Not what I was expecting at all. - How so?

I can't imagine any of this lot on a picket line or a demonstration.

New Labour.

Modernisation.

Can you understand why some people might think that this is a publicity stunt?

Some sort of hype?

Creation Records doesn't need any hype.

We look after the biggest band on the planet.

Alastair is going to want to talk to you about the campaign song.

We're expecting great things.

Does this mean that you might possibly stand for election yourself one day?

Me? - I think Alan -

Are you taking the fucking piss?

That's all the questions we're going to answer right now.

Alan's a very busy man.

I genuinely believed in Tony Blair.

He was a man that wanted to progress the party

without scaring away the working classes.

That's the campaign song he chose? - Mm-hm.

It's house music for people who hate house music.

Well... Somebody in Peter's team suggested that maybe

Oasis could do a cover of it for the campaign theme.

Let's face it, it's shite.

Under a Labour government, things can only get better.

'We helped them win.

We were invited to the podium, everybody saw us on TV.

It was all part of the circus.

But then came the invite to Chequers.

The very private country residence of the incumbent Prime Minister.'

Hello, hello.

To walk in the footsteps of leaders and kings

like Churchill, Eisenhower, Gorbachev.

Did you know Tony used to be in a band?

Yes, I heard about that.

'Great thinkers and world leaders discussed means of peace

and laws for the betterment of mankind.'

Now, Kate, come and let me show you around our little pad.

You'll love it!

See you boys later. - 'A wee ginger tool from Glasgow...'

Quite a place you've got here, Tony.

It's a bit ostentatious for my taste, but yes, I suppose it is magnificent.

'..in the court of kings.'

I need to get started on this new deal for unemployed musicians

as soon as possible, please.

Right, yes, uh, Chris Smith's your man, he's not here.

Now then, now then, now then! Ha-ha-ha!

Sir Jimmy.

Anthony, Anthony, Anthony, my dear boy.

Oh!

Oh, have you met Alan McGee?

I do not believe he has had the pleasure.

'Jimmy Savile.'

You all right?

Um, Mr Britpop, I presume.

'Everyone in music knew. Malcolm told me.

Johnny Rotten even said it on the BBC in the '70s.

It's hard to believe all these royals and politicians didn't know.'

Excuse me. - Eh?

Oh, yes, the little girl's room is just across the hall, young lady.

You'll get used to the lie of the land over the course of the weekend.

Tony's band was called Ugly Rumour.

That's right.

'Jimmy Savile, one of the most prolific child rapists in history.'

What have we done?!

Try the camomile tea, it's out of this world.

See, this decade, it started with a bang and ended with an explosion.

What we wrestled out of the hands of the dullest cunts on earth

got taken back and they weren't losing it again.

Corporate disguised itself as hipster,

and indie just disappeared.

They were gonna do whatever they wanted,

no matter what the people thought.

My next guest on the couch is music industry guru, kingpin,

and former head of Creation Records,

who brought us the likes of Primal Scream,

Jesus And Mary Chain, and, of course, Oasis.

He's political, occasionally controversial,

and he's a great friend.

He is, of course, Mr Alan McGee.

And roll VT.

Beaming lights.

Alan McGee, the man with a masterplan,

whose Creation Records went supersonic

by taking him from Brit Rail employee

to BritPop president. - It's pretty cool.

But some might say he went from rolling with it to rolling in it.

By selling his shares little by little to Sony

before collapsing the label.

Did he slide away - - Whoa, wait a minute, whoa.

Is this a stitch-up? - Leaving the bands all around -

No. - What's your first question?

One thing is for sure.

Creation Records didn't live forever, know what I mean?

Stop that racket!

You can edit it in afterwards. What's your first question?

Er...

What happened with Creation? Why did you shut it down?

It was mine.

I made it. I folded it.

No-one got hurt. Most of the bands got re-signed to Sony.

They didn't need Creation anymore. - Yeah, but why kill it?

It doesn't make any sense.

Why not?

Look, I built the biggest independent record company out of nothing.

I discovered and signed the world's biggest act

and reignited a record industry I was told was dying.

CD sales went up 800% between '89 and '99 with me on the charts.

And overseas sales made the UK more money than the motor industry.

My bands did that, and everyone else,

Pulp, Blur, Radiohead, benefited.

I got a whole country into Es and dance music.

And then I got them into coke and rock and roll.

And once I'd done that, I got political,

and went and put some of the biggest cunts

on God's green earth into government.

Mandy Mandelson, what a tool.

He said cunt.

They made out they cared about social justice,

when all they cared about was keeping hold of power

and lining their own pockets.

Who got them to make a new deal for the musicians? I did.

Despite George Martin's objections,

that's government policy. I changed that.

Anyway, Blair had me excommunicated,

because I tried to turn Malcolm McLaren into Mayor of London.

Excommunicated! Who does he think he is? The bastard Pope?

See, you give 'em a little bit of power,

they lose all touch with reality.

Christ, look at me!

I lost it when I got a bit of power running a record label.

I know how those fuckers think.

Look, Gemma...

There is magic in this world.

You become able to make things happen because of it.

if I'd fallen off of that ladder when I was a kid,

this world wouldn't be the same.

Everyone I touched, everyone I worked with...

..gone on, been a success.

It's a Midas touch.

Excuse me if I'm... wary of what I apply my skills to next.

That's a lot to take on board

for someone that hasn't been in your shoes.

But why don't you try and change the way

that you fit into your environment,

rather than try and change your environment?

I mean, friends, family, build a bridge.

Don't try and change the course of the river.

Hm.

Yeah, you're right.

Listen, everybody, sorry about that.

I'm a tool. Scrap that shite.

Let's... Let's go again from the beginning.

Huh? - Really?

Roll VT. Did I say that right?

Roll VT. - Right.

My guest on the couch is music industry guru,

kingpin, and former head of Creation Records...

'See, I don't really believe it's about bridges or rivers.

It took me a long time to realise.' - Dad?

'I see that thing you push against.' - Dad!

Dad! - 'That's the same thing

that's pushing you forward,

and it can sometimes be the wall that's propping you up.'

So be a punk, be a poet, be political, be posh,

be proud or be poor,

but be a rebel always.

Because there's always something to rebel for.