by Deanna K. Kreisel (Doctor Waffle Blog)

I have no idea what the lyrics to the Oasis song “Champagne Supernova” mean,[1] except for one single line: “Where were you while we were getting high?” It’s a plaintive refrain heard several times throughout the song, not part of the chorus itself but a kind of obsessively repeated lead-in. If it’s been a while since you listened to the song, take a second to wallow in the poignancy of that line. I’ve got it all cued up for you. I’ll wait. I promise not to do anything incredibly fun with all our friends while you’re away.

Even though this is my essay, and I am deliberately drawing your attention to this line, and I know it’s coming, and I even have it playing in the background on my computer as I type these words, I still feel like someone is punching me in the gut as I listen. I don’t like to get high any more,[2] and I didn’t start smoking pot until literally the night before high school graduation so I don’t have a lot of poignant teenage memories associated with it—but it doesn’t matter. The point of the line, the reason it leaves me feeling slightly sick to my stomach with an achingly bittersweet feeling of loss, nostalgia, sadness, grief, and longing, is that it so perfectly imparts the feeling of missing out on something. Something fun, something magical, something intense and transformative and most importantly unrepeatable—that you will simply have to wonder about for the rest of your days on earth. Worse, you will have to listen to your friends talking about it in front of you for the rest of your days on earth: the whole Where were you? cri de coeur implies that you—the listener—are normally part of the gang, should have been there, were sorely missed. If the singer had been lamenting the fact that he himself had missed out on getting high with all his friends, it would not be nearly so affecting. The second-person address puts you in the position of missing out. Oof.

In other words, it perfectly captures the feeling of FOMO. Read more »