Songs For Your Day

You know they at home watching Lifetime on the Internet by Peter Cavanaugh

I have yet to find a summer jam. There are a few bobbing up to the surface every now and again, but it seems as soon as I put an effort into making one of them my summer jam, it recedes back to the murky collection of music overtaken, disappeared, like waves under waves under waves. Which, I suppose, is the beauty of summer jams. Or anything really. There is a proverb, a saying. When the student is ready, the teacher will appear. When the beer is running on an endless loop and the girls all look so pretty and the days stretch out forever and the boys will strength from nothing for a baseball game that isn’t a league function, the summer jam will appear.

What, then, makes a good summer jam? I kicked off the season with Neil Young. He’s a toss-up. If you don’t have a backyard, he’s a winter scene. I would argue, however, “Are You Ready for the Country” turned up to a moderate level while nibbling at some whiskey in a wicker chair, shoes off, absently swinging a badminton racquet at the fireflies ain’t a note short of idyllic.

After that, I spent the latter half of July cleaning and listening to rap. I was heavy on Cam’ron and the Diplomats. Juelz Santana’s “There it Go” is solid, but – via Girltalk’s use in Night Ripper – played out. I’ve thought on multiple occasions that “Soap Opera” from Cam’ron would work. It’s got the nice sped up chipmunk vocals of yesteryear, the Kanye West aesthetic. Cam goes smooth over hard, thus allowing the audience to either groove slowly with drink in hand or simply head nod in time while playing a game of H-O-R-S-E.

Of course, by calling out these songs as potentials, they can be nothing more than that. The summer jam must occur naturally, unguided. Kissing the one and only Wendy Peffercorn in a game of spin the bottle cannot will not compare to unexpectedly locking up with The Icebox (pre-makeover) outside the concession stand in the mist and echo of the park lights freshly extinguished. It has and always will be a season of spontaneity.

Until someone hires me full-time.

So, y’all got a summer jam yet?

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