Basking in the sound of your summer

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It’s not true that you can’t learn to love new music after your mid-twenties. It’s just that most people don’t. You get too busy to invest hours listening to the same new songs or album over and over. You grow up and stop caring what other people think of your rapidly aging playlists. Eventually you find yourself less likely to be in those places you’re going to hear anything new. By thirty you’ve probably set the playlist of your life in stone.

Not judging, just saying. And if you’re still drinking from the fountain of that’s new after you turned thirty, then good for you, hipster. You’re an inspiration to us all. [/disengage deadpan mode].

Over summer though, it’s different. Over summer we do kick it back a little, maybe get out to few more parties. There’s time for that next drink. Things are looser, more relaxed. Maybe you might Shazam that tune you just heard and plate it up on Rdio or Spotify.

Stay with me, now, I got this theory I want to work through, that in summer we have the time and space to be bored with our usual selves and choices. In summer we have the time to do something about that. The car’s default radio station, if you’re still listening to radio, becomes unbearable in its familiarity, even without the witless prattle of the usual DJ sociopaths.

The sounds of our summer are different. Newer, maybe, at least to us. Less constrained for sure. Some of it is needing to put together a tracklist for Christmas Day, a mix that granny can listen along with the Gen Y and Z kiddies. But part of it is just having the leisure to learn something new.

For me, this Christmas break was all about the Hoodies. I’d come to the Hilltop Hoods late, led to them almost accidently by my youngest sister-in-law a couple of years back. But until this summer, with Rdio to stream a whole bunch of albums for me, I’d never done that young guy thing of just listening over and over, really listening to the lyrics and the stories they told. They are great, great storytellers, those guys. As an old, creaking Cold Chisel fan, I was set back on my heels. These guys are not the direct descendants of Chisel. Indeed there’s a lot of antipathy for old school rock in their music, or maybe just for the industry that preferenced rock over hip hop for so long. But the things that animate the stories that Cold Chisel told are all there, unresolved, in the Hilltop’s half-dozen or so albums.

I’m not gonna go all fanboy on you, because that’d get very boring very quickly for anyone who’s not a believer. But the sounds of my summer this year were punched out by Suffa, Pressure and DJ Debris. After streaming them for weeks I ponied up the folding stuff to buy their backlist, legitimate-like. Because they earned it.

It’s too early yet to be getting back to the depressing round of our usual blog topics, so let's not. Let's kick back for one more week. Have that one drink too many, and swap some tunes. I might do some raving about the Hoodies in the comment thread below, where you can ignore it if you want. But why not tell old JB about the sounds of your summer. You might even convince me to break open my playlists and add something new.