[None of these merit a full entry, but hopefully the sum is greater than its meager parts.]
Acne doesn’t take into account gender, race, sexuality, socioeconomic standing, or disability/ability status. It is an equal-opportunity face destroyer.
The Da Vinci Code is Twilight for men. “I indirectly blame Catholicism for the Da Vinci Code.” “I’m sure Catholicism is more upset about it than you are.” “You underestimate how much The Da Vinci Code upsets me.”
In relationships and in shopping, there are such things as dealbreakers. e.g. The shoe fits, but for one minor detail: toe cleavage. (See #firstworldproblems, below.) Conversely, certain attributes are also dealmakers. e.g. These flats were $6.99. Deal? Done.
The #firstworldproblems Twitter hashtag is the ultimate indulgence of an over-privileged class. It says, “I am worldly enough to acknowledge that my troubles pale in significance next to the deaths of malnourished children and freedom-fighting revolutionaries, et cetera, but I still want to complain about how long this barista is taking to prepare my iced latte! I have internet access, freedom of speech, and the disposable income to purchase a brand-name coffee drink, but it still shouldn’t take five minutes to pour espresso over ice in a cup, am I right?!” The kid who made the First World Problems rap knows what’s up: “I have to add water to this cupcake mix, then bake it?”
Then again, complaining is essentially a basic human right. Tweet on, all you people with 99 problems (but standard of living ain’t one). [Full disclosure: I use that hashtag all the time. Like, ten minutes ago.]
Is it possible to speed-read poetry? Doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose?
“Here is a procession arriving to honor you with music and torches. Here come the men and women whose names you know. The mountain is awake, the river is awake, over the race-course the sea is awaking those dolphins, and it is all for you. They want you–“
-E.M. Forster, “The Celestial Omnibus”
I haven’t been writing because I’ve been reading and reading and reading, and also I really have nothing to say. I’ll post for real the next time I surface for air.
There’s something slightly wrong about ordering raspberry lemonade in the winter. Unlike martinis made too dry or not dry enough, hot cocoa mixed from buy one, get one free boxes of dust and dehydrated “marshmallows,” or even plain lemonade, which is never as lemony as it should be, raspberry lemonade is a nearly foolproof drink; even the Crystal Light variety is palatable when it’s sufficiently cold or one’s taste buds are sufficiently deluded into accepting the oxymoron of a fruity, five-calorie drink. Taught the art of proportions and the common sense of the taste-and-adjust method, it’s likely that even my brother could mix a decent pitcher to pair with his vast culinary repertoire of toast, eggs, and stuck-together spaghetti. It’s lemons, raspberries, sugar, water, and sunshine, not rocket science. The only caveat is this: raspberry lemonade is a quintessentially summery beverage, and it just doesn’t feel quite right at any other time. I’m not saying I would turn down Cracker Barrel’s frosted-mug variety in, say, mid-March; it’s just not the same as the homemade blend of hand-squeezed lemon juice, stove-top sugar syrup, and freezer-fresh whole raspberries I made this week to combat June’s first sudden, unreasonable spike in temperature. Yeah, I did brush my shoulders off.
True story: we got another round of refills after this one. That’s my friend hiding her face in shame, but it could just as easily have been me.
If thoughts of the single most perfect drink that can be poured over ice and served to under-21s have inspired you to daydreams of pool parties, picnics, and trips down the shore in order to have an excuse to buy that 5-lb bag of lemons from Costco (pro tip: you don’t need an excuse), then you’re ready: welcome to my personal summer soundtrack, circa late May – August 2011. Neither blogs nor summer playlists are new to me, but using one to document the other is, so I feel obligated to provide a disclaimer: These 20 songs are not comprehensive; 20 is just a pleasantly even number. These 20 songs are not definitive; I don’t have the Rolling Stone credentials to claim anything like that, although oh man, how could would it be if I did? These 20 songs aren’t even all necessarily recent releases, as you’ll see shortly, but every summer’s playlist is just an improvement on the previous year’s, and some songs are classics. Also, there are no Beach Boys songs, because that’s pretty much just cheating. Now, finally, scroll down.
[Song titles are clickable links to an uploaded file of the full song. Artist names link to band websites. “Lyrics” link to lyrics, obviously. Videos are provided when available, embeddable, and awesome enough to warrant the extra few seconds of page loading time; otherwise, audio only.]
[lyrics] We got no money but we got heart
We’re gonna rattle this ghost town
Esquire Magazine named “Anna Sun” its #1 summer song, and although the guiltily repressed, flannel-wearing hipster in me wants to scream out for recognition, claiming that I discovered this band first, me me me, it’s enough to say that I agree. As if the gradual layering of instruments, catchy, “Hell YEAH we’re going to rattle this ghost town!” relatably youthful chorus, and the fact that “sun” is even in the song’s title weren’t enough, just watch the video. If the war paint, costumes, outdoor shots, dance sequences, and general free-spiritedness don’t do it for you, discontinue reading immediately. Run through a sprinkler, wiggle your toes in the grass, hug a puppy, spin until you fall down, take a nap in the shade, pour yourself an icy drink of choice (I’ve already pointed you in the appropriate direction), and come back when you’re ready.
[lyrics] And you were waking, and day was breaking
A panoply of song
And summer comes to Springville Hill
This is lighter fare for the Decemberists, considering their back catalog of songs about expatriate sailors longing for home and mothers who are literally whores. A song from an album entitled “The King Is Dead” wouldn’t quite do justice to this somber legacy without hinting at something as suitably melancholy as the incessant march of time, which the line about “years from now, when this old light isn’t ambling anymore” covers; otherwise, it manages to remain genuinely appreciative of the start of the decidedly least bleak season.
[lyrics] Pour me out a cup of that sweet tea, baby
It makes me smile just thinking about
Those long summer days down south
Some bands are better seen live, and that’s not an insult. It was one of the first and only warm days of the spring semester when Florez played an outdoor concert on my school’s campus, and there was free Italian ice involved; coincidentally (I swear!), I’m just now remembering that mine was raspberry lemonade flavored. I have a friend, and we have a tradition: at any given concert we attend together, we approach the band afterwards and ask if they’ll sign her forehead. (Being markedly less photogenic, I have permanently volunteered to take the picture.) It’s a good day when we score the entire band’s signatures, and an even better one when they’re just as excited about it as we are.
That was an off-topic anecdote, but here’s one closer to the point: my senior year of high school, my family and I drove — yes, drove — from New Jersey to Texas for my great-aunt’s eightieth birthday celebration/ a family reunion of exhausting proportions. At every restaurant, I ordered sweet tea, for some reason feeling I should get my fill of southern authenticity before heading back to February in Yankee country. Not until we were in Tennessee on the excruciating drive back did I realize: I hate sweet tea. I like my tea iced, thanks, not hot or unsweetened or sweet, but I like this song. It’s mostly because the totally unsubtle sexual connotations make me giggle, but also because I understand that some people, somewhere, do genuinely enjoy drinking sweet tea in the summer. This one’s for you.
[lyrics] We love this exaltation
We want the new temptations
It’s like a revelation
We live on fascination
Alphabeat is a Danish band, so their moderately inscrutable lyrics are forgiven. The point, I think, is still clear: “We’re young! We have disposable incomes and no curfews! PARTY!” Right? I mean, close enough.
5. Ocean Avenue – Yellowcard
[lyrics] We were both 18 and it felt so right
Sleeping all day, staying up all night
I was 11 when Yellowcard released Ocean Avenue. It was one of the first albums I ever bought, and one I took with me the summer I ventured off alone with 52 other 12- and 13-year-olds and 4 inexhaustible trip leaders on a People to People trip to the Mediterranean coast. I was vaguely homesick the whole time, and I memorized every word of every song on this album on the bus between France and Spain, years before I could even imagine the freedom of being 16, sitting and talking at a place off Ocean Avenue, let alone being 18, walking in my bare feet on the corner of Cherry Street. I’m 19 now, but the opening chords of this song still convince me that I have a wild, exciting future ahead, even if right now all I’m doing is sitting in bed with a laptop. At least I’ve got the “staying up all night” part down.
[lyrics] Wake up
It’s a beautiful morning
Honey, while the sun is still shining
I’ve never been surfing, although once I did get in a heated dinner argument with my friend’s boyfriend over whether it’s possible to do so at the Jersey shore. (It is, of course.) Sometimes I shop at PacSun, and I enjoy the movie Lilo & Stitch, but those are about the closest relationships I have with waves much higher than my waist. On the bright side, I can maintain a naive optimism that I might possibly be good at surfing, if I ever were to try it, unlike whistling, at which I am unmistakably pathetic.
7. Never Get Enough – Das Pop
[lyrics] Butterfly bellyaches
Keep me up night and day
Radiate sunshine
And make it reverberate
Das Pop is Belgian. Sorry about the double dose of foreigners with dubious lyrics, but this might be the most buoyant song on the list, and I can never turn down a good sing-along chorus. And the drum part is so upbeat…ha, ha! (Pun quota for this post: met.) Anyway, unadulterated fun is a good enough qualification for a summer mix.
[lyrics] Life’s too short to survive, too short for goodbyes
It’s hard to take a band seriously when finding their Myspace page takes an advanced Google search. (LOL, Myspace.) It’s harder still when they ask listeners to “take the best parts of the sixties, seventies and eighties, put them in a blender, then shook with a few shots of vodka. Imagine The Rolling Stones, The Talking Heads and Flock of Seagulls got locked into a studio for a week with nothing but their instruments, a disco ball and a healthy supply of grain alcohol.” From a band that doesn’t even have a freestanding website? Commence eye-roll. Still, it does sound like you’d want to be invited to whatever Wild Party these guys are throwing, and if there were a music video for this song, I imagine it would end with at least one of the band members jumping into a backyard pool fully clothed.
[lyrics] Let’s get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France
Let’s get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance
I imagine this song would sound even better from a hammock. Most songs would, but this one especially. For girls or any boys so inclined, wearing a skirt might also help. There’s another sing-along chorus in here, some well-timed hand clapping and light foot stomping, and a ukulele. The ukulele alone seals the deal.
[lyrics]On the way, I will go
Where the days left to breathe
Are not gone, are still long
I am traveling on
This is my current favorite song, and I rarely have a favorite song. It’s also my ringtone. It’s also been on, by my count, at least the last four mixes I’ve burned. It’s the best.
Oh, justification? Well, in chronological order, here are some reasons to love this song:
1. More hand claps.
2. Cello.
3. The lead singer, who sounds like Colin Meloy of the aforementioned Decemberists, if he smiled more.
4. Sensible, but not boring, poetic, but not cloying lyrics.
5. Trumpet solo.
6. Violin/viola.
7. Sweet video.
8. The fact that you started listening to it and smiled without even realizing.
[lyrics] We are not what you think we are
We are golden, we are golden
Some song titles are so apt that the lyrics in their entirety could repeat just those few words over and over. The shouted, “We are not what you think we are! We are golden, we are golden!” is easily this song’s highlight and its essence.
[lyrics] The sun is gonna die in a billion years
So let’s try to enjoy it while it’s still here
This song has a limited shelf life. The lyrics are silly (“I used to cry on those wintery nights/ Now ice cream in cones are up in my sights”), I have limited tolerance for electronica, and what the hell is a dog-eared summer, anyway? Still, Brite Futures (cringe at the band name, even) manages to cover all the seasonal stereotypes in under five minutes: beaches, sneaking out, and summer love. What else is there?
[lyrics] Outside, just killing time and making noise
Movie producers who haven’t yet picked up on this song have dropped the ball. It’s the perfect soundtrack for any scene featuring characters driving together at night, running through the streets, dancing on a rooftop, doing anything in slow motion, cliff jumping, or time lapse photography: nearly all of which are featured in this video, which was fan-submitted and won the official Nada Surf contest. One commenter said it best: “I kind of wish life was this video.”
[lyrics] We could flood the streets
With light or love or heat
Whatever
As far as rallying cries go, MGMT’s “call to arms” is pretty laidback. Lock your parents out, cut a rug, twist and shout, wave your hands, make it rain…or, you know, not. Whatever you want. It’s all chill.
[lyrics] Twist and shout my way out
And wrap your arms around me
‘Cause I ain’t the way you found me
And I’ll never be the same
A little ’80s throwback never hurt anyone, and I think the variety keeps the mix fresh. “You Make My Dreams” isn’t inherently summery, but there’s no better of illustration of what the season can and should feel like than the choreographed dance scene in aptly titled (500) Days of Summer. Everyone’s wearing blue, there’s a marching band, a chirping cartoon bird, a conveniently timed fountain, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Perfect.
[lyrics] On and on, we keep going
Crowded like subway cars
To the beat of our noisy hearts
This is another song that would play in the background of a movie about growing up, coming of age, living life to the fullest, etc. It would be set in New York City.
[lyrics] Squeaky swings and tall grass
The longest shadows ever cast
The water’s warm and children swim
And we frolicked about in our summer skin
Like the Decemberists, Death Cab for Cutie is a band that does their best work with just a dash of melancholy. Half of “Summer Skin” is dedicated to carefree contentment, the other half an acceptance of — what else? — the changing of seasons and passing of time. It’s not exactly an upper, but it does provide some necessary perspective. Maybe the moral of the story is enjoy it while it lasts. Maybe the lesson is that all we can do is “beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” Maybe it’s just a song by one of my favorite bands that has the word “summer” in the title. Or maybe d) all of the above.
“Semi-Charmed Life” is about drug use. Obviously. Singing about crystal meth, bumping up, and taking hits couldn’t be any less subtle, but I still maintain that the lyrics double as an effective metaphor for adventure, limitless possibility, and…okay fine it’s mostly just about drugs, but in the ’90s I, at least, was too young really grasp that. The doo-doo-doos are infectious regardless.
[lyrics] ‘Cause when she sings I hear a symphony
And I’m swallowed in sound as it echoes through me
I’m renewed, oh how I feel alive and through autumn’s advancing
We’ll stay young, go dancing
I lied about the necessity of melancholy in DCFC’s music. Sometime between this new album and the last, Ben Gibbard quit drinking, got married, cheered up, and continued to write great music. Happy Death Cab for Cutie is a-okay by me.
*Uploaded tracks are for sampling purposes only. If you love an artist, support their work!
The longest, strangest dream of my life occurred mid-afternoon today, after an unplanned nap in the middle of rereading Nine Stories, immediately after finishing “Pretty Mouth and Green My Eyes,” in particular. It involved my mother, a nunnery, grocery shopping, Meyer lemons, someone I know from my college life, a theatre troupe, someone I know from my home life, a celebrity I’ve never met, a completely fictional character whose name I definitively “knew” although of course I must have made it up myself, medieval torture, a boarding school of sorts, bike-riding, spirit animals, balloons, flying, someone I just met this weekend, a fictional character, swooning, a medical emergency, and true love.
I’m taking this as a sign that it’s time to start this blog.
Roma, But Not Italy 