What happened next: the Oasis comeback - and how it transformed a hill in Manchester

What happened next: the Oasis comeback - and how it transformed a hill in Manchester
Source: The Guardian

When the band played their homecoming shows, the city council attempted to discourage ticketless fans from an area that became known as 'Gallagher Hill'. But, realistically, nothing could keep them away ...

'If you lot are listening on the hill ... Bring It on Down," Liam Gallagher said from the stage, dedicating the Oasis track to ticketless fans who had gathered in Heaton Park. When the band played their run of Manchester homecoming shows in July, an estimated 10,000 people made their way to what became known as "Gallagher Hill" over the five-night run.

The Manchester shows were the only UK gigs that took place in a public space, as opposed to stadiums. Manchester city council had warned those without tickets to stay away, going so far as to erect another fence to block the view when word began to spread that people were gathering. But all attempts to discourage them were futile, as word about the "electric" atmosphere spread on social media.

Dean Russell and friend Mark Pridgeon had already booked a hotel room near the park before tickets went on sale; they didn't manage to secure any for the Manchester gigs, but decided to make the journey from Southampton anyway. They were among the first 50 or so people to climb the then unnamed "Gallagher Hill".

"We walked up the hill, and when you got to the crest you could look out and see the screens," Russell said. "You could hear the music, and as it went on more and more people joined." To have been one of the first people on the hill, he says, was something special. "You feel privileged that you're part of that history. It was an amazing and magical night. It's going to sound cheesy, but the atmosphere was electric."

Vicky Hindle, who lives in nearby Prestwich, was also there on the first night with her 16-year-old twins Oliver and Ryan. She went back for a second night; her sons enjoyed it so much they were there for every single Manchester date. "The first two nights [before the screens were blocked off] it was like being in the gig," she says. "It was such a good thing for the area and for the community. You'd see so many people there that you knew, and then people that you didn't know. Everybody was having fun, and it was brilliant."

While Oasis concerts may have a reputation as rowdy gatherings where one runs the risk of being sprayed by pints flying through the air, on Gallagher Hill at least, families felt at home. Claire Furness drove up from Sheffield with her 14-year-old son, Sam. "We had no tickets, so we ended up on 'Gallagher Hill'," she says. At first Sam was disappointed, but as he heard the band come on stage, he burst into tears. "He cried all the way through. It was just immense. There were young people, old people, people from different countries. Everybody singing at the top of their voice; everybody knew the words."

Clare Still travelled from Derbyshire with her nine-year-old son Connor after trying and failing to buy tickets for the gigs. "This was his first experience of anything big musically, and he absolutely loved it," she said. "The atmosphere was phenomenal. I did wonder how he was going to go, given that we couldn't see, but he was just so excited, singing, dancing; when Champagne Supernova came on at the end and they let the fireworks off, he was completely mesmerised. On the way home, he said, 'This has been the best night ever, mummy'. That was good enough for me. He's just constantly asking for Oasis to be on now."

On the final night, fans on their way up the hill were handed "Gallagher Hill" T-shirts; a gift from the band, who'd had a thousand printed. "The T-shirt that I've got is framed on my wall. I won't ever be getting rid of that," says James Mulville, who had come down from Kendal with his mother and aunt. "People are selling them on eBay for silly amounts of money, but I won't be getting rid of mine. There's memories on that."

So special was the experience, says Mulville, "they need to rename it officially as Gallagher Hill." While the council is yet to erect a sign or a plaque, online at least, the site has been immortalised. The fences may have come down, and the resident cows are freely grazing once more, but on Google Maps a red pin still marks the point, beside the words: "Gallagher Hill".