Katie Abrahams-
We all know that summertime sunshine in Ireland is a finite treasure to be maximised and cherished. It is almost guaranteed that after a week the spell will be broken, and the skies will quite literally piss on our parade once more. But, there is one imperative accessory of the elusive Irish heat-wave that can act as intangible links of the memory chain–and that, my friend, is music; songs that evoke the laughter, the faces, the smell of grill-cooked hamburgers, the taste of your cool, icy quencher of choice. The following are five tracks from my meticulously-arranged summer playlist.
Track One is a song that captures the bohemian, libertine spirit of the mid ‘90s. One of my earliest music memories is of sitting in my beach house in Brittas Bay, cooling off before returning to the next round of Tip The Can. I was six years old. Spellbound, I watched the video of Oasis’ ‘Don’t Look Back In Anger’. I was hooked. From that moment on, I became aware of the music around me. 1996 was a year of hits, and one I reminisce about to this day. It brought us The Spice Girls, ‘Firestarter’, and the end of Take That. My peers gravitated toward Gina G’s ‘Just A Little Bit’, No Mercy’s ‘Where Do You Go’, and ‘Kung Fu Fighting’. I won’t knock those, in fact the dormant pop-lover inside me will burst out and fight to the death anyone who refutes these as classics. However, the ones that stand out for me are the aforementioned classic, ‘Return of the Mack’, and my first track choice.
Ocean Colour Scene’s ‘The Day We Caught The Train’ is a vibrant, freeing tune that fills you with the realisation of the possibilities of summer. It’s all there in the lyrics; the scenery, the rum and coke, the escapism, the bright skies. OCS’ biggest hit instils a sense of adventure, and takes you back to the days of camaraderie and impulsive decisions, not harnessed by responsibilities or rain. It propels me back to the summer of ‘96 where I was free to explore the world around me — even if the ‘world’ consisted only of my neighbours’ gardens, the beach and fields. It is a song that, alongside the mention of ‘girl power’ and ‘Blur vs. Oasis’, made the ‘90s the era of British re-invasion.
Track Two makes you dream of the seaside. When you hear Real Estate, you think of the beach. It is impossible not to, not least because their song titles typically ascribe notions of the coast side and maritime. By nature of their home-state of New Jersey—the one that gave us Springsteen, the stars of the Sopranos, and basically anyone legendary — this band is by association alone, very cool. An added bonus; they are also incredible live. They describe their music as psychedelic surf pop, and there is really no better way of putting it. I first heard the standout ‘Beach Comber’ on Youtube and thought this is what The Beach Boys with a narrower vocal range, on less sugar and more weed, would sound like. This track is breezy and calming, and the album’s overall effect follows suit. The droning far-out vocals, dulcet tones from the sk-5, and jangling chords have the power to paint a nautical-themed watercolour, which we can dive right into and forget about the rain.
Track Three encapsulates summer in three minutes and thirty seconds: It is a song I first heard back in early May, as a backing track to a Sky Movies HD advert. So there I was, zombie-like and still-inebriated, my mere presence in my bed turning it into a Jagermeister cesspit. This was following a friend’s annual gaff-party/sleepover, which has gained with tradition the prerequisite of not counting your shots and feeling like you are going to die a violent demise the next day. Eyes stinging from lack of sleep, swollen from allergies after sleeping on a wooden floor covered with dog dander, I fumbled for the remote. Childrens’ movies always help at times like this. What I heard was not Little Rascals, Little Giants, The Sound of Music or even The Stupids. It was an invigorating, high-pitched E-A-E chord opening punctuated by the repetition of four words; ‘This Is The Life’. I was compelled to open up the laptop with its Gleaming Screen of Death, and conduct a lyric search. Result: various gangster rappers affirming that ‘this is the life’, inevitably followed by an appreciative mention of Rolls Royces’, Krystal, or their bitches/hos… I had nothing.
So into Google went the words ‘’song on sky movie hd advert this is the life’’ and POOF! Thank you very much WikiAnswers, hello Two Door Cinema Club. Now I admit TDCC aren’t executing anything new. Yet they tread the line between indie and pop with the awareness and confidence that they have provided something that has been missing – accomplished filler for the current void in the niche’s market. At least until The Strokes return…
Track four makes me want to break free: Seven years ago I was a daydreaming adolescent in a musical lull. I had advanced from a toddler who would bop instinctively to Uptown Girl and Radio Gaga, to a pre-teen who veered wildly from SClub7 to a distinctly more acceptable Nirvana. Queen, ELO and The Beach Boys were other major phases. Yet I had found myself in a state of musician-inertia; I’d bought a guitar but just hadn’t the talent, or possibly the patience. I had exhausted my CDs of The Beatles, Elton John and hadn’t yet been ensnared by piano or Bob Dylan’s lyrical genius.
I was a slightly angsty teen. Not angsty enough to go through a goth phase, but melodramatic enough to feel enveloped by a sense of being too large a spirit for the little village I had been placed in. Every day was like the one before (think Belle’s song in Beauty and the Beast, except instead of a charming French village, it was a then-undeveloped, ultra-shiteous Dundrum). Music was always the way out, and the possibility of that avenue of diversion becoming inert and ineffective was terrifying. In a desperate attempt to keep my Discman whirling and boredom far away, I asked my father, “Dad, who did you listen to when you were my age?” Declan said two words that would signal the beginning of my first musical love affair since seeing Noel Gallagher with his Lennon-esque sunglasses and ’95 Epiphone Supernova. The next day, I bought his Greatest Hits; an 18-song collection, that began with Track Four.
‘Born to Run’ was a revelation; an unapologetically rebellious song that idealised escapism, centering on the ever-marketable notion of young, senseless, reckless love. The song is as much about passionate elopement as it is breaking away from what you know and what confines you—the expectation to follow, to linger in familiarity, to welcome stagnancy.
Track five makes me reminisce. It takes me back to the most formative summer of my life; the one post-LC: The stand-out, most accessible track by Animal Collective, ‘Summertime Clothes’ is unhinged, delirious and heady – mirroring the state I found myself in that summer. The song is perfectly-arranged chaos and captures the dizzying, rose-tinting effect of that first, authentic romance; one that is simultaneously safe, magnetic, destabilising and overpowering. One that is driven by a deep lust… until you realise that aside from his anaemic David Boreanaz looks, long fingers and manly hands, he’s really not that clever and indulgently pseudo-emo. The lyrics tell a naive love story, while oppressive, hypnotic beats take me back to the countless nights I spent on crowded, sultry dancefloors.
I’ve left out so many greats. These suggestions are clearly biased. They are just some of the songs that take me back to my own brighter, summer days. With spring in the air already, start looking forward to indulging in yours.
