As in the summer-centric film industry, July means large-scale rhetoric of symphonic compositions and anthemic refrains that suggest celebration, bemusement, introspection; all of the spectral moods of summer. When quarantined to a domestic crossover vehicle and beholden to a Congressional Library's worth of musical material in the iPod for eight and nine hours per day, you tend to develop some strong feelings towards all kinds of shit going on in your little mobile prison, both positive and negative.
This was the soundtrack to my small family's 2011 Heartland road trip which consisted of my pregnant wife, our 65lb German Shepherd, Enzo the Fetus, and me. Sounds like a kickass boys weekend don't it? Well, I did get to visit a shitload of microbreweries and pave the entire rear floorboard with rare bombers, so, yes ... it kinda killed.
The Antlers | I Don't Want Love
I Don't Want Love got a ton of love on the way up north, primarily because we had just seen these dudes live at the old Emo's (RIP) a couple weeks before our departure. It was another one of Enzo's in utero gigs, and the album ended up being my #1 of 2011.
Beruit | East Harlem
Driving through Tennessee and Kentucky is actually kind of beautiful, and in doing so, requires an equally pretty accompaniment. It is a good long-state song, because the horns stick with you long past the track's duration -- which is necessary absentminded fodder when your navigator is taking another nap.
Cut Copy | Need You Now
I can't say for sure, but I can't image that synth-pop will be exceptionally attractive to the acoustic senses of our young descendents. Synth appears to have come on strong during the crystalline-drugged decade of the 1980s and returned for another run at the methamphetamic generation of the late-aughts. I don't think it will get another chance at another hopped up generation, because its not that long until the Wyld Stallyns bring about universal harmony and everyone is wildin' out to Joe Satriani hymnals and wearing Oakleys.
Such a shame, because Cut Copy are tits. As another part of Enzo's Gestational Gig Series (EGGS), Melissa and I got all electro-clashed in Detroit when we saw them perform their album Zonoscope and all their highlights from In Ghost Colors. This was the opening number, and its a fucking treat to rock with the people of Rock City, and especially seeing your very pregnant wife dancing to electronica on top of a bench.
Bon Iver | Calgary
We depended a lot on Sirius' XMU and Josiah -- my dude on the decks -- to get us through the boring stretches of flyover country. He always knew the right time to play it -- when things were getting contemplative and I'm dreaming about the imminent White Castle feast I would be partaking in. That bastard Carles outright refused to throw me a bone.
M83 | Midnight City
And here was the pastoral anthem, the heroic closer to an epic summer soundtrack -- leading us across borders homeward, brisking into the state from which we were torpedoed three weeks prior; entering the outskirts in its acerbic opening riffs and minding the view of the city as it calmly boils to saxophone and longing.
