Creation Stories

My 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.

A 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're about to start our descent

into Los Angeles LAX Airport,

where the local time is 2:34 p.m.,

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, so I had my own bedroom.

This is me doing a closing encore at the Barrowlands...

With a tennis racket.

What a tool.

Thank you, Glasgow!

Goodnight!

Jesus Christ!

Have you got your sister's make-up on?

I'm not a pooftie, Dad.

Well, why you poncing about like one?

- You're a bloody disgrace. - I'm just pissing about, Dad.

You should be in the street with your football.

Go and wash that shite off! Go on!

Should be on the street playing football, you wee cunt!

It's a cliche,

but I never felt I fitted in with my family.

I just don't get it.

I bet your mates don't spend it on make-up

and posters of men dressed up as tarts.

I loved my ma and my sisters.

You're not a kid.

But Dad... He hated everything I did.

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

And Grandma just hated me.

Wee ginger bastard.

I had two obsessions back then...

Serious now... music and money.

I've got an 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?

Do you know 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 6:00, 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.

20.

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'd just sell a few extras, I take.

You mean steal.

Dad, I actually increased circulation.

Oh, it's okay to steal from the people paying your wages.

- He's doing them a favor. - 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, f... - It's no good, Ma.

I can't make it stick.

- He'll have to go to A&E. - Alright.

Well, then, you take him, Laura.

And if anyone asks, Al,

you fell when you were out.

Okay?

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.

Oi, Mate. Slow down a minute.

- Where rock rocks. - Mate.

Wow. That gig is sold out.

These guys, they are like the new Beatles.

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.

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

- This is a big opportunity. - Right.

Hey, hey, hey. Don't embarrass me, alright?

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.

Oh, no. Fuck! Grandma, no, I can explain.

- Announcer: President Kennedy... - People talk about telly

in reference to history.

You remember watching the news about Kennedy,

or the moon landing.

Queen's Coronation.

Fuck that.

There was only one historical televised event in our house.

They're a group called the Sex Pistols.

And that changed everything.

Hit record. The 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?

Announcer: I'll say nothing else about him.

We'll be back tomorrow,

I'll be seeing you soon, I hope,

If I'm not seeing you again, from me though, goodnight.

Now there were new rules.