By the time I went to university in 2010, Oasis had long been a household name. So when I told people I was called Liam Gallagher during fresher’s week, getting a reaction didn’t come as a huge surprise.
Then the calls started. I was watching Lost in my room – it must have been the second or third night at uni – when I answered my phone to a drunken band of first years singing a random assortment of Oasis smash hits.
I put it on loud speaker so my pals could hear – we found it pretty funny to be honest. Afterwards, we cracked open another can of cheap cider and continued bingeing the series.
But the calls came every day after that: a group singing Wonderwall down the phone to me at the top of their lungs. It could be in the early hours of the morning or while I was in a lecture – I didn’t know when to expect the next one.
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I also didn’t know who was doing it. I remember asking around and everyone shrugging.
It wasn’t until the end of first term that one of my friends admitted it was him – he had managed to keep schtum the whole time. I still think it’s hilarious.
The whole phone saga was the first time my name had really attracted attention from people outside of my family. Being born in 1989, I wasn’t named after Liam Gallagher but my parents think it’s a happy coincidence.
Like most Irish people, my dad loves anything second generation. Any successful sportsperson, actor or musician who has a drop of Irish blood in them will be thoroughly supported, betted on and talked of as an Irish treasure.
That’s just the way it is – you’re one of us, whether you like it or not. And the Gallagher brothers, who were born to Irish parents, are no exception.
My dad loves their music, rocks a parka jacket and was overjoyed when I bought him a jumper from Liam’s brand – Pretty Green – for Father’s Day. He’s even chuffed that he shares a name with the third Gallagher brother, Paul.
I was in Year 6 – so around 10 years old – when I found out who my namesake was. We were on a road trip driving to Ireland, and Dad was playing Oasis’ (What’s the Story) Morning Glory.
I thought it was super cool that we had a name in common, but I remember saying that I hated his hair cut. It was then that my mum broke the news to me that my hair was styled the exact same way.
After that, I went through a period of being the teen playing Wonderwall on the guitar at house parties. I would get requests from other dwellers like, ‘Come on Gallagher, bash out some Oasis’.
I’d put up a very small fight, just enough to establish I wasn’t a complete show off, then crack straight on with it.
Since leaving university, the hype around my name hasn’t died down. There’s been a few cases of mistaken identity, but the one that stands out most in my memory was when my girlfriend and I went to a hotel for the weekend.
When we got to the reception, there were three or four members of staff behind the desk – definitely more than you would usually see. As we checked in, I heard someone say, ‘Oh, I thought the real one was here’.
I could see the disappointment on their faces as I replied, ‘I am the real one’. I mean, I understand why they felt that way – if I thought I was going to meet one of my idols, such as Marcus Rashford, and some other bloke with his name turned up, I would act exactly the same.
It wasn’t as bad as the time I had a headlight out in my car though. I was driving to Devon with two friends and a police officer pulled me over. He asked to see my driver’s license but I didn’t have it, so he asked for my name.
As soon as I said ‘Liam Gallagher’ he sighed and said ‘I don’t have time for this mate. What’s your actual name?’. I had to turn around and ask my friends to vouch for me, but it was to no avail.
I had seven days to make an appearance at the police station with my paperwork to prove my identity. When I finally provided them with my licence, I was met with, ‘I bet you get this all the time!’ and a small chuckle from the officer. I wasn’t prepared to be too sassy with him and headed off.
Most of the time, my name doesn’t cause problems though – I just get people laughing in response, or making a comment about it being the same as the singer’s.
How I react depends on how I’m feeling that day. A bad mood will elicit a dirty look, just to let them know I’ve heard it before. A good mood will give way to a slightly passive aggressive smile – an acknowledgement of top banter.
I try and avoid the comments by going by ‘LaymedownLiam’ on social media – which is my artist name. Obviously being in a band and being called Liam Gallagher seems to divert the attention away from your music to whether you are trying to follow in the famous Liam’s footsteps.
Just to clarify, I’m not. Our style is pretty different.
I don’t mind music by Oasis or Liam Gallagher’s other band, Beady Eye, but I’m more fascinated by him as a person. I like how much he just doesn’t care and it’s just impressive how arrogant he is.
A few obscene(-ly funny) highlights include him saying that Wayne Rooney ‘looks like a f***ing balloon with a f***ing Weetabix crushed on top’, that Mumford & Sons ‘look like f***ing Amish people’ and describing Florence Welch as sounding ‘like someone’s stood on her f***ing foot’.
Although hideously offensive, I just can’t help but be utterly entertained by the man. There just isn’t a filter on the guy.
Like, if you were to have a dinner party and could invite either Liam Gallagher (not me) or, say, that nice little child who’s saving the planet these days – I know who’d be more fun.
Not to sound too crass and ignorant, I still think Greta Thunberg’s a hero!
It’s like in boxing, I should love Anthony Joshua (because he’s partly Irish) but I think he’s boring. On the other hand, Mike Tyson is outrageous – he had a tiger! – so I can’t help but be more interested in him.
I think it’s the same with Liam and Noel; I would much rather share a name with Liam. I love their rivalry. I used to think it was all for the press but now I’m convinced they actually do hate each other.
Although it would be great to meet Liam, I can just imagine him shooting me down pretty quick. He’d say: ‘I couldn’t give a f*ck if you share a name with me mate, what do you want?’
For now, I’ll just watch his savage takedowns on YouTube instead.
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