Up, down, up again, down again. Probably not unusual for anyone but after everything that has happened the downs are rock bottom and the ups feel like euphoria. Bipolar has become the default setting. One day you’re riding your bik, setting targets and beginning to feel physically normal. Then you’re scar is painful for weeks, your energy levels drop to those of an animic sloth and just getting your leg over the bike seems an impossible task. From buzzing at work to each day beginning to a choke of anxiety at the thought of the day ahead. From being out celebrating Christmas and enjoying a night out for the first time in more than two years to within days struggling to get out of bed. It’s horrid. You don’t know what is around the corner. The more it happens the more you feel apprehensive even on the good days, not knowing how long it will last and what will knock you down next. When you bounce back it feels like a resurrection but the set backs make you feel like a failure and a fraud. The last few years have ensured their is no balance just up, down, up again, down again, no middle ground and a tiring climb or descent to worsen the blow.
Battling cancer makes you somewhat nostalgic. Whether it be a subconscious longing for times before you became ill or holding on to things dear to you for dear life who knows. Things that bring back memories of more innocent and healthier times are real emotion stirrers and can soothe pain or apply salt to wounds in equal measures. People you look up to or hold in esteem become beacons of light and icons of what could be.
Twenty three years on from buying Definitely Maybe on cassette, going to see Liam Gallagher in concert took me away from cancer for a couple of hours. My thoughts became more innocent and for one evening I was place on a plane of comfort and rapture a million miles away from worries and concerns.
The anticipation and atmosphere inside the arena was heightened beyond that of a normal gig. The returning hero's masses were keen, spirited, fervent. The arena gradually filled with more than a sprinkling of blokes who has kept the same sideburns and britpop hairstyles since the 90s or had reemployed them for the occasion. There were enough Parker coats in attendance to lay down cover his beloved Manchester City's pitch.
Liam Gallagher is more than a pop star. He is a symbol of better times gone by, he is a constant presence in nation's consciousness, he is hope and he is a normal bloke who jumped into the life of a millionaire hero to boys, men, girls and women. People hang on his every word even if he is merely rambling about cups of tea or offering other expletive ridden musings. You see accomplished TV and radio figures caught in his web and cherishing the chance to speak to him. But most of all, this bloke in an anorak who likes like someone miserably waiting for the next bus that is late effortlessly makes people happy.
People want to hear Oasis songs and Liam Gallagher knows they are good songs and wants to sing them so he will bloody well sing them. Loudly and passionately. Each one sparking euphoria and exhilaration like when you're there in the stadium to see your team score. The songs from his first solo album are great and add something different to the show. For anybody else they would be the highlights of the set list. But this is Liam Gallagher and Liam Gallagher is (not was) Oasis. Its the Supersonics, Morning Glorys, Liver Forevers and Some Might Says that transcend the evening to some kind of sentimental exultation. Being played at high tempo and full volume, they are the songs that send waves of adrenaline over the thousands in attendance. Rockin' Chair is an unexpected but illuminating three minutes or so.
Two encores punctuate the thrill of the night and yet still leave a craving for more. More than twenty years later and people are still left mad for it. When reeling out the classic anthems Liam has shown that despite the animosity towards his brother when performing the classics he has remembered don't look back in anger and that whilst he is still breathing and able to perform then the power of Oasis simply won't just slide away.
As I edge closer towards scans and check up appointments it's like being in a one man raft heading towards a waterfall. I want to paddle against the current but at the back of my mind I accept what is inevitably going to happen.
