The Dangerous Summer and the Power of Cathartic Music
The Maryland-based band is back and as good as ever
The Dangerous Summer often headlined my road trip music during drives home in college. Their music — a breezy mix of pop and rock with some light atmospheric elements and powerful vocals from singer AJ Perdomo — fit the rolling miles of the interstate perfectly. They also released albums in 2011 and 2013, years that fit into my college experience perfectly.
I forgot about the band until a few days ago when I saw the news about their newest, self-titled album. I read several opinions of the album (both good and bad), and pulled it up on my phone. A few listens later, I can happily announce that the Dangerous Summer has released a solid album. The band may never reach their earliest heights of musical prowess again, but this newest project highlights what made their sound interesting and is a worthy entry in their discography.
The Dangerous Summer (album) is good because it fits the same mold of the Dangerous Summer (band)’s previous efforts. Their formula is driving, powerful choruses that accompany interesting verses. Perhaps most importantly though, the music and lyrics often feel profoundly cathartic in a way that few other bands can. I’ve always been obsessed with the word catharsis, both for its sound and definition, and the Dangerous Summer fits this idea perfectly on their best songs. They aren’t afraid to write about sad subjects or happy ones, but their best moments come when they blend these feelings together in a satisfying emotional release.
The band’s best song is the title track off of their 2009 album, Reach for the Sun. The song’s lyrics move from angry and distressed to peaceful and contemplative, ranging from lines like “I wrote a song about war, the kind that lives in your head,” to “I felt so safe inside the sight of the sun, I really think I’m home now.” Once the song bursts into its joyful chorus — one built by a crescendo of guitars, drums, and Perdomo’s lyrics — I’d often find myself rolling down the windows and singing as loudly as I could:
I heard what was a song inside the earth
I put my ear to the ground and I sang with every word
I felt a wave so strong, I fell right in it
It hit so hard and it took my spirit
Know that I belong to you until I die
The Dangerous Summer followed this cathartic formula in their next few albums, 2011’s War Paint and 2013’s Golden Record, and the same type of songs fill the track list of their 2018 album as well. The album opener, “Color,” builds on a slow beginning into pulsating choruses and verses. What makes this song so meaningful is not the hope that underlines its verses, but the fact that that hope exists in the face of serious hardships. When Perdomo sings “The cure became the sickness” in the first chorus, it feels real and melancholy, giving additional weight to the more hopeful sections, like the one below:
There’s a hole somewhere
And goddamn I’ll get out
I see through the shots I missed and I
I’m feeling the confidence and I’m wandering
It’s clear that the lyrics here focus on hope and triumph over different kinds of adversity, and this theme mirrors the recent history of the band. 2018’s album is the first in five years, and the end of a hiatus after Perdomo left the band in 2013. The band’s Wikipedia page chronicles his departure, Perdomo’s claim that he left because of another member in the band, the arrest of the second member in 2017, and the band’s return over the second half of that year. Personal turmoil in bands is a story as old as the music industry itself, but it’s rare to see bands actually emerge from that turmoil and release the same type of music.
When I listen to “Color,” (which I will maintain is the album’s best song), I feel a mixture of triumph, sadness, and ultimately the central catharsis that I view as central to the band’s sound. Lots of bands write sad songs, lots of bands write happy songs, but few can blend these two emotions together with the sense of triumph and victory that defines the Dangerous Summer’s sound. I’ve listened to their songs countless times during drives home and long nights spent in the library, and I welcome their return to music almost in the same way that I would welcome an old friend. It’s good to hear their music again.
