FOMOOM (Fear of missing out on music)
In which FOMO (fear of missing out) becomes FOMOOM (fear of missing out on music)
You’ve probably heard the phrase FOMO. You know, the one that all the kids use. Well at least they were using it about 5 years ago, they’ve almost certainly moved on to something else since. Anyway, it means fear of missing out. It’s a concept we can all understand, the worry that somewhere something amazing is going on and we ought to be part of it.
I’ve had my share of FOMO, but mainly when I was a younger man, before I became more comfortable in my own skin and with my own decisions. A similar concept has stuck with me for much longer though, even though I’ve only just made the name up, which is FOMOOM, or fear of missing out of music. The feeling that somewhere out there is the most amazing song or band that I just haven’t discovered yet.
When I first got into music, this took the form of obsessively tracking down every bit of material from the bands I loved. I would buy their albums of course, but also both versions of the CD single so I could get the different b-sides. Plus the compilations and live albums, and the bootlegs of demos and poorly recorded concerts, because what if Nirvana’s best ever song was on there and I was missing out, or even just quite a good one? I even bought Hole’s cover of Gold Dust Woman on 7 inch single, even though I had no record player and no intention of getting one.
As I moved into my twenties and my tastes got a little broader, my FOMOOM took a different form. I had moved on from mainly listening to Nineties indie and rock to discover more electronic music, Americana, post-punk and more. I had always discovered new music through the radio and weekly music press, but now I started reading monthlies like Word and Uncut as well as nascent internet blogs. There were suddenly so many ways to discover new music, and I wanted to hear it all. Partly because of FOMOOM, but also because knowing a lot about music was kind of my thing, in lieu of an actual personality, and I felt I had to maintain my knowledge.
There used to be a music industry term, “50 quid man” meaning a certain type of bloke who had a reasonable disposable income but few responsibilities, and could be relied upon to buy £50 worth of CDs every month, as much for the appearance of being a music fan as the reality. Even though I didn’t earn much money, I became more like 100 quid man, buying a ridiculous amount of albums to try and hear all of the music I wanted to hear. This was pre-Spotify, so I couldn’t just go online and listen to a whole album to find out if was any good. I bought a lot of records that turned out to have only one good song, or not even that, but I felt it was worth it so I didn’t miss out on any gems.
In my early thirties I had a bit of a crisis of confidence that I was losing touch with new music. I had responsibilities, a family, a proper job, and didn’t have so much time to listen. I could have just given in, enjoyed the music I already loved, as so many people do, but the FOMOOM hit again. I couldn’t let go of trying to discover new music, or music that was new to me. I started to write about music online, which gave me an incentive to listen more, and the world of smartphones and streaming services gave me the capability to do so.
The streaming services turned out to be a double edged sword though. Despite the major benefit of being able to listen to almost any music from any time and place at the click of a button, it also made it abundantly clear that I was never going to be able to discover all the great music that was out there. Millions of tracks were available, with thousands more added every day. I had started compiling spreadsheets of all the artists and albums I wanted to listen to, but they soon became huge and unwieldy. Like Wowbagger the Infintely Prolonged, an immortal character from Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy who decides to insult everyone in the universe, I realised it was going to be impossible to get round to it all (although Wowbagger, unlike me, decided to try anyway).
Once I accepted this, my FOMOOM subsided and was replaced with acceptance, up to a point. My relationship with music also improved. I realised I could spend the whole of the rest of my life only listening to music I already knew and be perfectly happy with that. If some great new band appears and I don’t hear about them, it doesn’t matter. If a hidden gem stays hidden, or I never actually get round to delving into the back catalogue of Fairport Convention, that doesn’t matter either. Music isn’t supposed to be a video game to be completed, a to do list to be ticked off, it’s supposed to be a pleasure and a joy in and of itself, and as long as I remember that I’ll never be missing out.
Originally published at http://colourthecortex.wordpress.com on January 30, 2023.
