Summer Albums 2024: Zero Edition
These are the albums that weigh heavy in my rotation from May through September. The intention is not to be critical but simply celebrate the albums that deliver those summer vibes. Most albums are typically released during that time. For others, the timing just hits right.
Music can be intimately connected to place, conjuring memories in which a song or album scores happenings and occasions. From wedding songs to driving albums, the right song can attach listeners to those emotions and intentions experienced at a particular moment or life period. For this listener, music more often recalls seasonal vibes. The Church’s Starfish, for example, recalls the Christmas of 1998, yet my breath still chills at hearing the shimmering open to “Destination”; during the summer of COVID-19, I escaped lockdown nearly every afternoon to Lake Michigan beaches, reading to Khruangbin’s wistful travelogue Mordecai.
Summer seems especially privy to meaningful music. According to Rolling Stone, the first album to be considered a true “summer album” was The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. A landmark record to be sure and, released in late May of 1967, a classic that achieved the right timing. Still, for this listener born in ’73, the experimentalist reverie of the album reminds me of childhood rather than thoughts of beach lazing and pleasure reading.
Compared to Duane Eddy’s “Rebel Rouser” (released in 1958 — the first year of Billboard’s charts), a summer song piques those summer vibes with a bit more twang, swagger, and slick. The Doors’ “Light My Fire,” which topped the Billboard charts during the same summer as Sgt. Pepper’s, better captures the warm, Pacific waves of Morrison’s cavorting grounds. Maybe it’s the singer’s oily charisma or Ray Manzarek’s playful keys? More likely the single’s corruptible suggestiveness that connects us with summer’s love.
Contemporary major album releases are often saved for later in the year, but spring and summer can still deliver some timely tracks in hopes of coinciding with listeners’ leisure. I still recall the excitement I felt when Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky” emerged as the benefactor of this pop-culture tradition. I have not, however, listened to Daft Punk intentionally since this track saturated every media channel. My genuine appreciation for watching the French electronic duo get their paycheck diminished quickly after hearing Pharell’s lanolin vocals seeping out of every speaker for barely a week. Coupled with the equally ubiquitous “Happy,” which was released a few months later, 2013 was a musical slog.
In the streaming era, the formula for what makes a summer track seems more elusive. Surprise tracks like Kate Bush’s 1985 single “Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)” dominated playlists in 2022 after being featured in Netflix’s Strange Things, for example. The rediscovery of Bush — an enigmatic and singular artist in any era — is cause for celebration. Much like “Get Lucky,” however, the track became inescapable until it was reduced to grocery store background noise before vanishing once again.
So what makes for the perfect summer album?
Since spending COVID with Khruangbin (which in turn inspired a month-long dive into Jamaican dub and sound system artists), I’ve wanted to return to music journalism — an interest from back in the early 1990s when I worked as a music critic for my college’s student newspaper (a factor in my academic negligence at the time). Each of the last few summers, I’ve paid closer attention to album releases in anticipation of those that will help sustain warmer vibes during long Midwestern winters.
Barely halfway through June, we are already seeing a strong slate of summer albums hitting sites and shelves. Over the last month, stellar recordings have signaled what will certainly be an amazing season for music: Tuareg guitarist Mdou Moctar’s Funeral for Justice continues to ignite my playlist since being released at the start of May; Psychic Temple’s Doggie Paddlin’ Through the Cosmic Consciousness is every bit as a chill yet engaging as a summer album should be; Swamp Dogg’s recently-released Blackgrass: From West Virginia to 125th Street may not strike the same chords as other summer albums but has inspired further digging into the venerable R&B/funk/country titan’s catalog.
Summer Albums is a series of semi-coherent reflections on those records. They will often be new releases such as those listed above or older albums that are enjoying a re-release (Robin Trower’s 50th anniversary of Bridge of Sighs) or have been recommended by others (Van Halen’s OU812 was last summer’s surprise). These should not be seen as reviews as I won’t spend much time in critical space — I won’t bother writing about albums that don’t resonate in some way.
To be honest, it’s not about finding what makes the best summer album. Best to leave that to marketers.
Instead, these writings are an excuse to find out more about an artist or simply revel in their creative work. Or maybe it’s an excuse to write about something other than those subjects I focus on at work.
More likely, it’s an excuse to buy more records (recommendations, welcome!)
Thanks for reading! My name is Kris Purzycki, an assistant professor at the University of Wisconsin—Green Bay who teaches writing and digital publishing.
