SOME music business pundits have a theory that you can trace the lineage of inspirational rock managers from the Rolling Stones' Andrew Loog Oldham, through the Sex Pistols' Malcolm McLaren, to Tony Wilson and on to Alan McGee, who helped Oasis sell 54m records.

"I suppose I was the one person out of them who remembered to go to the bank and get the cheques," says McGee, speaking from Los Angeles in advance of his stint at the Tony Wilson Experience.

McGee's first meeting with Wilson was in 1984, by which time McGee had moved from Glasgow to London. Wilson was, he recalls, this 'dude with the designer suit' among 'shabby punk rock kids'.

But McGee admits today that he 'ripped off' Tony's template for Factory Records when he started Creation Records.

"The only thing we didn't do was build a Hacienda. We just built me a drug habit," he says.

"Tony Wilson was an inspired human being who would have made it in any town. You guys were lucky enough to have him in Manchester. He was a national treasure. He should have been the Lord Mayor of Manchester.

"Ultimately, you remember Tony Wilson forever. You never remember some ****er who ran Universal Records for five years. Who cares? Next!

"I was friends with Tony. He influenced me to start a record label when record labels made sense. He influenced me to keep going. He was probably the biggest musical hero I've ever had. I loved him dearly as a friend. I had my ups and downs with him. I probably annoyed him a bit in the '90s having success with a Manchester band, but we got over that."

Imagine

It is perhaps difficult to imagine now what a revolutionary concept the independent Manchester-based Factory Records was in the London-centred corporate music business of the late Seventies.

On top of the sheer upstart cheek, there was its distinctive artwork and its unheard-of strategy of tying artists by genetleman's agreement rather than watertight contracts.

Peter Saville would later say that not one decision in 14 years of Factory was ever made with an eye to profit. For instance, there was the legend of New Order's Blue Monday - the biggest selling 12-inch single ever, yet with such lavish sleeve design that it lost money with every copy sold.

"It was the greatest independent record label that has ever been," says McGee.

Typical of Factory's unbusiness-like ethos, the Hacienda was a money pit for years.

Glorious

"Yes, but what a glorious one," McGee insists. "I'm glad I wasn't an investor in it, but having said that, you've got to love the man for bringing New York to Manchester."

The music business has changed beyond all recognition since Factory waxed and waned. These were changes foretold and discussed at the In the City music conference, in which, implausibly, Wilson managed to persuade the big wigs of the music industry to hold their annual talking shop in Manchester.

McGee has been part of what he calls the 'seismic changes' in the business, not least the changes wrought by the internet. Once bands toured to sell their album; now they flog their album to sell the tour.

As manager of The Charlatans, featuring fellow Réification speaker Tim Burgess, McGee was instrumental in the decision to give away the band's album You Cross My Path as a free download.

"It's like punk," McGee says of the state of flux in the business. "You've got to be aware every week of the changes. That's not bad; it's good."

His advice to Manchester's budding young talents: "Carry the torch for Tony. He inspired Scotland, London, Los Angeles, New York. If you guys can do that, you're worthy of being the next Tony Wilson."

Alan McGee will be speaking at 10am. Tweet