Andy Richardson: Some might say Noel's an Oasis of talent

He says what he thinks, writes great tunes, hangs with A-list stars and gives straight answers to simple questions. He's honest, direct and – best of all – funny. It was ever thus.

While his brother – the one who used to have the best voice in rock'n'roll but now sings like a plasterer on Special Brew – was the loutish, thuggish, not-always-pleasant half of their comical sibling rivalry, Noel was the Godlike genius. He was the one who wrote the damn tunes. He was the one who connected with millions by articulating the way they felt in song. And he was the one who didn't take himself too seriously. He told the truth about taking drugs, got drunk for England, was as politically-incorrect as 'The Donald' Trump. He avoided self-pity and self-doubt, didn't have a single morose bone in his body and always looked on the bright side of life.

Noel was ever-the-gent. While interviewing Liam was hard work – even before Definitely Maybe had been released, he was a Jekyll and Hyde interviewee – Noel was always great fun. His press officer was a charming guy called Johnny Hopkins, who, on occasion, used the nom de plume Johnny Appleseed. I've no idea why. Johnny and I seemed to speak daily and interview time with Noel was usually the subject of our conversation.

Prior to the release of (What's The Story) Morning Glory, a record that sold more than 30 million copies and earned a staggering 14 platinum discs, Johnny arranged for Noel to call. He gave this then-NME journalist the world exclusive, a track-by-track, account of the record. And that was at a time before the release of Wonderwall, before the release of Don't Look Back In Anger and before Oasis became, for a while, the biggest band in the world.

Noel was funny. He described Some Might Say as 'that was the gin'n'tonic getting the better of me'. And then he told one of the world's funniest stories about talking to Christians while being drugged up to the eyeballs about the, erm, hidden Christian meaning in it. Some people will believe in anything.

Roll With It was, in Noel's words, a song about 'eff all'; Wonderwall he described as being about his then-girlfriend Meg Matthews, a story he subsequently changed; Cast No Shadow was dedicated to Richard Ashcroft from The Verve while Morning Glory was described as being a 'cynical song about drugs'. No kidding, Sherlock.

I met Noel, interviewed him and hung out with him several times after that; watching Oasis in Kansas, St Louis, Toronto, Dublin, London and Knebworth – though missing their glorious Manchester City gig because I was stuck in a Godforsaken airport in the former Yugoslavia. Gah. We spoke once after The Brits, in 1996, where Oasis had won three awards and been nominated for a fourth.

Noel was on the sauce and was perfectly good company. And we met again at The Brats, the annual NME awards ceremony, where he was irascible and left his middle-finger awards in a backstage room where we'd been taking photographs. His minders retrieved the brass gongs that he couldn't be bothered to take home.

My favourite meeting was in America's Mid-West, when I'd flown with a photographer to witness the Brit invasion. Oasis were playing theatres that held around 3,000 fans in Kansas. At one gig, St Louis, I snuck into the theatre through an open, backstage door, climbed the stairs and watched the band's soundcheck. They'd started writing songs for Be Here Now, their nightmare, cocaine-psychosis record, and were playing those. Though their tour was all about What's The Story, I got one of the first listens to songs like I Hope I Think I Know and My Big Mouth. I caught up with Noel later and we sat down to chat. Then, that night at the gig, he spotted me in the crowd – we'd bagged the equivalent of a Royal box – and acknowledged me mid-song. Bromance, dontcha just love it.

Noel remains one of rock music's most brilliant talents and funniest geezers. Off message but not off hand; individualist but not narcissistic, he's been one of the greatest musical talents that this country has ever produced. He is as avowedly unpretentious as it's possible to be and lives a dream life – wife and kids at home and an occasional free pass to travel the world to play brilliant rock songs.

And he does so like a normal bloke. Empty his pockets and you'd find a bit of loose change, a Star Bar and a Man City ticket stub, probably. But empty his mind and you'll find some of the best rock songs ever written.