Definitely Maybe spoke to me as a working-class Glasgow teenager and gave me hope. Be Here Now brought it all crashing down

I was visiting my brother at RAF Chivenor in 1994, where he was based as an armourer. My parents and I had driven from Glasgow for the weekend so they could go for dinner with him and his new girlfriend. I didn’t want to go. Fortunately, my brother knew that and suggested I stay in his room and ransack his music collection. “Here, listen to that one first,” he said, handing me a CD. The now unmistakable opening chords of Rock ’n’ Roll Star started. The filthy guitar riff announced the arrival of Oasis in my life, when I was 14.

When I got back home, I rushed out to buy my own copy of Definitely Maybe, the band’s first album. My running trainers, jogging bottoms and Sweater Shop jumpers were replaced by Adidas Sambas, Adidas tracksuit tops and Fred Perry polo shirts. None of these were to be worn for sports. I wanted to emulate Liam and Noel Gallagher. I got a pair of Levi’s 501s and a Parka to finish off the look. The clothes were fashion accessories to give me a swagger, an identity and the mardy teenager look. Thankfully, my nana would buy me this stuff from a second-hand clothes shop as my mum never understood the importance of labels – unless it was Clarks shoes for school.