Liam Gallagher Malta Weekender – Sunday (see Saturday here)
Ta’ Qali Park Nazzjonali, Malta
22nd September 2024
The final Definitely Maybe show wasn’t just a gig, it was the last chapter of Liam’s solo dominance before the Oasis machine kicks back into gear next year.
After a great Saturday of music inside the Ta’Qali Park Nazzjonali, including a monster of an afterparty at nearby venue UNO. I couldn’t wait to see what the man who curated the whole weekend would bring to the table, headlining the final night of his weekender in Malta. I arrived a little later than planned, which I promise had nothing to do with my attendance at the previously mentioned afterparty… Anyway, the Gallagher legacy had officially landed in Malta, and let’s just say Gene Gallagher and his band Villanelle didn’t come for a quiet holiday. This past weekend, the son of Britpop’s most iconic frontman made his own mark on the island’s music scene.
From the moment Gene came onto the stage, it was clear that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Channeling his old man’s confidence (and maybe nicking a bit of the wardrobe with those sunglasses), he wasted no time in commanding the crowd’s attention. Kicking off with their gritty and grungy, riff-heavy opener, Villanelle made it clear they’re here to write their own story. Gallagher’s vocals, raw and untamed are very much his own, yet there are little glimmers of his dad there too. There’s no denying that the lads are still carving their own path but they are doing it with no nostalgia trip, just pure, unfiltered rock ‘n’ roll. Villanelle may still be new on the scene, but if this Malta performance was anything to go by, I’m excited to see where Gene Gallagher and his gang go to next.
The Royston Club then touched down, and if you thought being on a serene island would mellow them out, think again. These lads from Wrexham brought enough indie swagger and youthful chaos to make the sun-soaked festival feel more like a sweaty night in a northern pub, and the crowd loved every second of it. From the first jangly notes of Blisters, it was clear The Royston Club had the crowd in the palm of their hands. Frontman Tom Faithfull oozed confidence, strutting around the stage with the kind of self-assuredness that’s got “next big thing” written all over it.
Faithfull’s voice, sharp and full of northern bite, rode perfectly over the band’s tight riffs. Their set was a non-stop indie blitz; with tracks like latest single The Patch Where Nothing Grows, 52 and Mariana, it’s not surprising the crowd was chanting “Royston! Royston! Royston!”. It didn’t go unnoticed by Tom who told them all “You’ve got the voices of angels”, getting another loud cheer. It wasn’t all laddish charm and fast-paced anthems though. Cherophobe brought a more reflective moment to the set, showcasing the band’s knack for penning emotionally-charged lyrics without losing their rough-around-the-edges appeal. It’s clear these boys have more in their locker than just festival bangers.
By the time they blasted through fan-favourite Mrs Narcissistic, the crowd was whipped into a frenzy, arms raised and voices hoarse from singing along. The Royston Club didn’t just play Malta—they owned it. If Liam Gallagher’s Weekender is about showcasing the next generation of indie stars, The Royston Club are most certainly on their way to the big leagues.
Next up was a voice born out of Nottingham’s backstreets serenading the Mediterranean. It sounds like a weirdly perfect match, and this past weekend, Jake Bugg delivered a set that blended grit and sunshine in the most effortlessly cool way possible. From the first chords to the last he was in full command. No gimmicks, no over the top showmanship, just raw, stripped-back indie brilliance. Dressed in his usual understated style, he let his music do the talking. That voice still smoky, still full of heartache and rebellion—cut through the warm late afternoon air like a knife through butter.
With his impressive back catalogue, Bugg moved seamlessly between his acoustic folk roots and his more recent rock-tinged material. Seen It All had the crowd bouncing like it was 2012 again, while the haunting Broken brought a hushed reverence to the festival, a brief moment of introspection among all the island chaos. Looking around, there were quite a few who no doubt might have been thinking about the poor choices they made during the previous night at club UNO.
Bugg’s signature blend of folk, rock, and indie swagger was the perfect antidote to the blazing sun, providing just the right amount of northern grit to keep things grounded. He doesn’t need to shout to be heard, and at Liam Gallagher’s Weekender, his understated genius was a pleasure to witness. Malta might be all about the sun, sea, and good vibes, but Jake Bugg brought the soul, reminding us why he’s still one of the UK’s most compelling voices.
I was very much looking forward to who was next up as Jamie Webster doesn’t just play gigs; he leads singalongs that feel like football terraces with guitars. The Scouse troubadour brought his working-class anthems and infectious charisma to the sun-drenched crowd, turning the Ta’ Qali Park Nazzjonali into his own personal Anfield. With his tales of everyday struggle and triumph, tracks like Voice Of The Voiceless and Something’s Gotta Give hit harder than a sea breeze. Webster’s knack for storytelling, layered over jangly acoustic chords, resonated with the crowd in a way that felt deeply personal. Not afraid to bring in politics either he told the crowd “Ive got news for you, the Tories are f**ked.” further adding “Well done, we did it together” getting a cheer before heading into Fickle Fran.
Dressed in his signature laid-back style, he was the people’s champion—part folk hero, part pub raconteur, and all heart. Arms were flung in the air, pints spilled, and voices cracked from singing too loud as he closed with Weekend In Paradise. Jamie Webster had turned a corner of Malta into an indie-folk utopia, where the struggles of everyday life are momentarily forgotten in the power of a communal chorus. In the end, Webster’s set was everything we’ve come to expect from the Scouse troubadour—gritty, heartfelt, and delivered with just the right amount of wit and charm.
There’s something about seeing Liam Fray, the heart and soul of The Courteeners, standing alone on stage with just his guitar that makes you realise why he’s one of the finest songwriters of his generation. Dressed in a black top, white jeans and sunglasses, Fray strolled onstage with the confidence of a man who’s seen it all. Greeted by a sea of sunburnt faces and lager-fuelled energy, Fray gave us a masterclass in how to captivate a crowd. Armed with nothing but raw talent, charm, and tunes that have become the soundtrack to a thousand messy nights out.
Stripped of the usual full-band backing, Fray’s acoustic set felt intimate, but no less powerful. His voice, full of Manc swagger and emotional heft, filled the air as the night sky set in over the Mediterranean. Tracks like Please Don’t and Acrylic hit differently in this setting, the lyrics cutting deeper, as if Fray was personally serenading every member of the crowd. By the time he wrapped up with Smiths Disco, the audience was utterly under his spell.
Fray doesn’t need a full band or fancy production to command a stage—just a guitar and a back catalogue of indie classics that hit home every time. The highlight? Well for me it was always going to be Not Nineteen Forever. Fray delivered a spine-tingling rendition which turned the Maltese festival into a giant singalong, with arms waving and voices cracking under the weight of nostalgia. Fray grinned, as he stood back, guitar slung low, basking in the moment, proving that whether it’s full throttle with The Courteeners or stripped-back solo, he’s still the people’s poet—fiercely Mancunian, and absolutely unstoppable.
If you thought Liam Gallagher was going to quietly wrap up the final show of his Definitely Maybe tour, then you clearly don’t know Liam Gallagher. The king of Britpop swagger delivered a ferocious set that was equal parts nostalgia, rock ‘n’ roll defiance, and a bold nod toward the Oasis reunion looming on the horizon. As the moon shone bright in the Mediterranean night sky, the island crackled with anticipation. The crowd knew they weren’t just witnessing another Liam Gallagher gig: this was the final show of the Definitely Maybe anniversary tour.
From the first snarl of Rock ‘n’ Roll Star, you could feel the weight of history in the air – but don’t think for a second Liam let that slow him down. Gallagher stormed the stage like a man with nothing to prove but everything to celebrate. That unmistakable voice soared through the air as if he were back in 1994, belting out Definitely Maybe classics with all the sneering attitude that made them timeless in the first place. Columbia followed, dripping in attitude and distorted guitars that seemed to throb through the ground. It’s a track that’s always been a sonic punch to the face and, live, it was no different. Gallagher’s vocals cut through the Maltese night like a rusty knife—razor sharp, unapologetic, and dripping with that signature Manc sneer.
Between songs, Liam was in full banter mode, as the crowd started to sing “Happy Birthday” to him (It was his 52nd trip round the sun just the day before), quickly shutting them down with “My cat sings better than you lot”. The mid-set unveiling of Whatever came next and felt like an offering to the nostalgic masses—an anthem of youthful freedom and hope, soaked in timeless melodies. With arms swaying and pints raised, it was one of those spine-tingling moments where you realise how deeply these songs have woven themselves into the fabric of people’s lives.
Cigarettes & Alcohol then hit the crowd like a lightning bolt. Liam, banging out the verses with the kind of cool that can’t be faked. The Maltese crowd – locals, Brits, and every Gallagher die-hard in between – turned the place into a giant, sun-soaked singalong, proving that even in paradise there’s no escaping the pull of that swaggering Mancunian charm.
The emotional high point for me came with Live Forever, a song that on this final night of the tour felt more poignant than ever. As the crowd belted out the iconic chorus, you couldn’t help but think this was a passing of the torch, one last triumphant nod to the band that defined a generation, before the long-awaited reunion kicks off. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any bigger, Liam closed with an epic cover of I Am The Walrus, a full-throttle send-off that left the Maltese night vibrating with the sound of distorted guitars, snarling vocals, and decades of rock ‘n’ roll rebellion. Gallagher stood there, owning the moment like a modern-day gladiator in his indie coliseum.
This final Definitely Maybe show wasn’t just a gig, it was the last chapter of Liam’s solo dominance before the Oasis machine kicks back into gear after 15 years away. If this weekend was anything to go by, next year’s reunion might just be the biggest moment in British rock history since that first swaggering Mancunian stepped onto the stage. It was the exclamation mark at the end of a sentence that began over 30 years ago and a triumphant curtain call to the Liam Gallagher Malta Weekender. As I made my way to the next after party, I couldn’t help but feel that next year’s Oasis reunion is going to be something truly biblical.
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All photos and words by Adam Williams. You can find Adam on Instagram and Twitter.
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