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Summer's here, time is right — for music


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“Summertime Blues,” Eddie Cochran (1958)
“Summertime Blues” sounds like it was recorded yesterday and rocks like there is no tomorrow; its rhythm built, like a boa constrictor, of tensed, shiny muscle.

Eddie Cochran was all energy and motion and arrogance:

“Well I’m a-gonna raise fuss
I’m agonna raise a holler.
About a working all summer just to
Try to earn a dollar”

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The outrage is feigned. The voice jumps out of the grooves (as we used to say of vinyl records) — the guitar jumps and pumps like adolescent hormones. He’s working all summer, not all year. The work is optional. He needs money to fund fun, not food, shelter or clothing. Cochran is mimicking working adult complaints. Eddie knows that he will be back in school in the fall. He’s just playing at being an adult for the summer.

Teenagers have to bitch. It’s a way to let off steam, and Eddie’s got so much steam that it’s fogging the windows. The boy’s just gotta rock ‘n’ roll.

“Sometimes I wonder, what I’m a gonna do
For there ain’t no cure
For the Summertime Blues.”

He knows exactly what he’s “a gonna” do: he’s going to sing this song. He’s going to rock ‘n’ roll. That’s the cure for the “Summertime Blues”: a song as great as this.

“Born to Run,” Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band (1975)
Image: Springsteen
Michael Dwyer / AP file
Bruce Springsteen wrote the quintessential road song in "Born to Run."

The greatest song about driving ever recorded — insanely delirious energy squeezed into the front seat as Springsteen and “Wendy” speed in search of “that place [they] really want to go” where they’ll “walk in the sun,” because tramps like them, baby, they were born to run.

“I Can See Clearly Now,” Johnny Nash (1972)
Interesting that one of the greatest reggae — and one of the most effervescently optimistic — songs ever recorded was written, sung and produced by a soul singer from Texas — Johnny Nash, who caught the reggae bug and began recording in Jamaica in the late-'60s. It didn’t hurt that he was backed by the Wailers or that his smooth tenor is ideal for declaring “I can see clearly now.” It’s “gonna be a bright (bright) sun-shiny day” indeed.

“Three Little Birds,” Bob Marley and the Wailers (1977)
The sunniest song by the royalty of reggae, with loping beat, island breezy melody and utterly infectious imagery: “Rise up this morning/Smiled with the rising sun/Three little birds pitch by my doorstep” — the three birds being both a literal image, and representative of Marley’s female backup singers, the I-Threes, who trade lines with him throughout the song.

“No Shirt No Shoes (No Problems),” Kenny Chesney (2002)
Image: Kenny Chesney
Ethan Miller / Reuters file
Kenny Chesney captures the Mexican-Caribbean feeling in "No Shirt No Shoes (No Problems)."

Jimmy Buffett isn’t the only country-leaning American singer with an affinity for the Mexican Caribbean. Chesney’s rich voice and spirit lift this classic get-away tune:

“Want a towel on a chair in the sand by the sea
want to look through my shades and see you there with me
Want to soak up life for a while
In laid back mode
No boss, no clock, no stress, no dress code”

It’s the “Margaritaville” scenario without the internal conflict because the stay isn’t open-ended.

“California Sun,” The Dictators (1975)
This version of “California Sun” by NYC proto-punks the Dictators, is an explosive, jungle-drumming, speaker-switching, guitar-ripping take on the Riviera’s surf classic. The band’s occasional goofiness is (mostly) set aside here as they spy the California ideal from 3,000 miles away. 

“Quiet Village,” Martin Denny (1959)
Before there was the semi-satirical post-modern notion of “lounge” music, whereby urbane twenty- and thirty-somethings might both revel in, and quietly chuckle at, their own sophistication, there was Martin Denny, who repaired to the islands of Hawaii in the mid-'50s and incorporated natural sounds of the South Pacific into his islander cocktail jazz personally creating the phenomena known as “exotica.” “Quiet Village” is a bird-calling, monkey-squawking, frog-croaking, tiki-flavored slice of classic exotica.

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