Kyle Schwarber controls the aux in the Philadelphia Phillies’ clubhouse, and he did the same in Boston in 2021 when he carried the Red Sox to within two games of the World Series. That year, he rallied the club around Calum Scott’s “Dancing on My Own,” a cover done originally (and better) by Swedish artist Robyn. “Dancing on My Own” is a dance music classic, and according to Rolling Stone one of the best songs ever, but to the baseball world it was a cute, if soon-forgotten feature of the Sox’s campaign.
The following offseason Schwarber signed with the Phillies, who made a madcap run to the 2022 World Series. Schwarber had added “Dancing on My Own” to his “Phils Win” playlist, and during the team’s inexplicable march through the playoffs the song became a phenomenon. Calum Scott, who I couldn’t pick out in a police lineup if my life depended on it, eclipsed a billion streams on Spotify. The national media couldn’t get enough of the motley crew of jocks obsessed with the song. My niece, then three-years-old, hummed along to the lyrics as little kids do. I still tear up when I hear it, like little kids do.
The Phillies ran the song back in 2023, despite Schwarber warning everyone it was a “second-place song” after the team lost the World Series to the Houston Astros. His words proved prophetic, as the Phils lost to the [redacted] in the NLCS in devastating fashion. With the Phillies back in the playoffs again, it’s time for a new victory song.
It should be Oasis’ “Don’t Look Back in Anger.” It’s destined to be “Don’t Look Back in Anger.” Not only does the song contain all the elements of a proper stadium anthem, but it also fits the city and the team perfectly.
Elements of a victory song
Not every great song is a stadium anthem, and not every stadium anthem is a great song. The stadium anthem (or the victory song, which I’ll use interchangeably) is a unique form that can’t be forced or faked. So before making my argument for “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” I’ll lay out the essential pieces of the victory song.
The right tempo
The victory song can be neither too fast nor too slow. The San Francisco Giants playing Tony Bennett’s “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” after wins at Oracle Park is a fitting and charming tradition, but it’s not inspiring a bunch of professional athletes to pour beer on each other’s heads in the locker room. It’s too slow.
On the other hand, a song as fast as, say, Deafheaven’s “The Pecan Tree” will never be played in a stadium. It’d scare the children.
The right tempo isn’t important just because a song is more accessible and therefore more mainstream that way. It’s also because it compliments the tension and release of a big game or an important win. A slow song isn’t celebratory enough. It doesn’t hold the attention of excited people. They’re too buzzed to settle into the dulcet tones of a Tony B. At the same time, us humans can only run on adrenaline and cortisol for so long before we burn out. Blast beats keep us on edge and don't allow us to come down.
The hook
There needs to be something distinctive about a stadium anthem—a melody, a guitar riff, whatever. The boom-boom-clap in “We Will Rock You.” The bass line in “Seven Nation Army.” These are the sounds that abduct people’s brains for a few seconds or minutes. Stadium anthems aren’t just catchy. They are undeniable.
Ambiguity
Songs that are too specific often lack mainstream appeal, or they fade away after initial popularity. People need to be able to see their way into the song, so to speak, and ambiguity allows more people to interpret a song to their liking. A tell-tale sign that a song will disappear is if it contains pop culture references. They age terribly.
Take Blur’s “Song 2.” Its opening moment is a stadium staple. It’s just “woo-hoo!” several times over a catchy riff. The rest of the song isn’t any more specific (or profound). Beethoven’s “Hammerklavier” it is not. But that is why, for as long as human beings play baseball, stadium DJs will play “Song 2” whenever a batter comes to the plate in a big moment.
Singalong-ability
A song people can’t sing along to isn’t a song that will be played after a win. Even “Kernkraft 400,” a lyric-less electronic banger, can be sung along to. Stadium crowds the world over chant to its beat. Similarly, the oh-oh-oh part in “Sweet Caroline” is sung not by Neil Diamond but by the listener.
In fact, “singalong-ability” might be the most important element of an anthem. “Sweet Caroline” isn’t a good song and it’s too slow for victories, yet it brings people together at sports venues and local dives alike. The chorus is just that chorus-y.
In this regard, Calum Scott’s “Dancing on My Own” is basically a 21st-century “Sweet Caroline.” A too-slow intro is followed by a propulsive chorus (with its own oh-oh-oh). It’s why the song worked for the Phillies and its fanbase.
“Don’t Look Back in Anger” is a victory song
Oasis’ “Don’t Look Back in Anger” contains each of the key elements of a victory song.
Tempo - although Oasis’ 2009 acoustic rendition might be the best version of DLBIA, the pace of the album version hits just right. It allows drunk/hoarse sports fans to catch their breath between lines while it keeps the action moving.
Hook - any song that steals from John Lennon’s “Imagine” is bound to be captivating.
Ambiguity - I’m an Oasisologist, yet I have no idea what this song is about. Longing? Loving? Escaping? Hoping? All the above? None? This is why the song is universal.
Singalong-ability - at a hometown show in Manchester, England, last summer, Noel Gallagher turned DLBIA over to the crowd. Every lyric was triumphant.
Why the Phillies need “Don’t Look Back in Anger”
Besides the facts that DLBIA is a perfect victory song and victory songs are great for humanity and Philadelphians are allegedly human beings, Oasis’ reunion breathes life into the band’s discography. “Live Forever,” “Wonderwall,” and DBLIA—all songs released decades ago—battled Sabrina Carpenter on the charts this summer after the Gallagher brothers announced their reconciliation. The best time to listen to Oasis was in the nineties. The second-best time is now.
More importantly, the song fits the Phillies perfectly.
The losingest sports team in history? Don’t look back in anger.
Existing for 141 years with only two championships? Don’t look back in anger.
The infamous late-season collapse of 1964? Don’t look back in anger.
The ‘93 team losing the World Series on Joe Carter’s all-time home run? Don’t look back in anger.
A decade in the baseball wilderness from 2012-2021? Don’t look back in anger.
The miracle 2022 run ending in heartbreak? Don’t look back in anger.
The 2023 run ending in [vomit] to the [redacted]? Don’t look back in anger.
To be a Phillies fan is to have hope and to have that hope not just crushed but also obliterated in the most painful way possible. But somehow we hope again, as we are doing this postseason.
I’m not sure what “Don’t Look Back in Anger” means to Noel Gallagher, but I know what it means to me. It means a better world is possible. It means optimism is not dead. It means I want to start a revolution from my bed. In my first piece for Out in Left I argued baseball (like American democracy) is premised on the acceptance of loss. Sally “knows it’s too late” for what has been, but she also knows there is hope for what can be.
“But don’t look back in anger”
“Don’t look back in anger”
I heard you say…
“At least not today”
After the Phillies’ wins this postseason, I want to throw my hands to the sky and sing my lungs out to this song with the thousands of other fans who, I think, believe this too.
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