Seasonal Supernova

When the weather turns each year, I find myself changing my music taste. It’s always the same change. Summer is for classic rock, blasting The Beach Boys while at the beach just feels right. Fall is for the acoustic guitar. Let's give Bob Dylan some credit here; Paul Simon too. I love watching a leaf fall from a tree just as “Homeward Bound” starts to play. 

“Every day's an endless stream

Of cigarettes and magazines”

Put out the cigarette, put down the magazine. It’s winter. That means one thing: it's time to only listen to grunge music. Something about the cold weather makes me feel that trademark Kurt Cobain angst. I think I’ll pick the cigarette back up; maybe not the magazine though. The heavy guitars, Chris Cornell and Eddy Vedder screaming just perfectly drowns out the cold weather and noise of heavy winds blowing full force at bare trees. Grunge is the perfect winter music. 

Spring though, spring is always tough. I never quite know how to transition out of grunge during the spring. So, what we have during this season is some grunge, mixed with whatever 2000s hits or Britpop songs I feel like. Britpop is always a good transition out of grunge. Did the Gallagher brothers hate grunge music? Yes, but there is still some angst in Britpop whether they like it or not.

Despite all of these changes there is one constant in my musical repertoire: Oasis’s “Champagne Supernova”

Queue it. Let that water sound effect wash over you.

Whenever I feel sad, angry, even happy, I listen to this song for help and guidance. Sure, it makes virtually no sense. What the hell is a champagne supernova anyway? 

I don’t know what it is about this song that brings me so much comfort. It might be Liam Gallagher’s nasally vocals, or Noel’s perfect guitar tone as he plays up and down the first and fourth frets of the guitar. 

I remember the first time I ever heard this song. I was with my friend Louis Doordashing on a Monday night. That was always the routine. Get in the car, pick up someone’s burger, and listen to music together. It was great. Louis played “Champagne Supernova” and I drowned. I drowned in that water; I let it wash over me and man was I changed. 

If the question here really is, “how many special people change?” then the answer is me. I changed. 

That’s what really is so special about having a musical constant. Sure, the season usually determines my playlists and what I drown things out with. However, having something to always go back to, having something that is always there when you need it, makes changing my music taste every few months all the more comforting. 

Close your eyes, let it hit you, get caught beneath the landslide of a champagne supernova.

February 2025