A new summer mix

For the past several years, I have had a summer music ritual.

It goes something like this: lie on my couch, listen to my iPod, get sick of all of the songs I have in heavy rotation, stare blankly at the ceiling and then decide to raid my brother’s iTunes.

Something happened between high school and college for my older brother: We developed the same taste in music.

I noticed it first on our old shared computer, when our iTunes libraries started to overlap. First it was duplicate Guster songs.

Then I started borrowing his extensive Beatles CD collection, then his Bob Dylan, then, well, everything.

Before long, our musical tastes were almost indistinguishable, save for a few Mos Def albums from him and a Britney Spears mix from me. (I can’t help it. She just makes me want to dance.)

When he came home for the summer, our family car would become littered with mixed CDs with ambiguous names such as “Summer Mix,” “Mix Two” or “Rock.”
But these uninspired names contained magical songs for me.

The CDs would jump through our combined musical history, from the Jackson Browne songs we both listened to in the car as little kids to an unfamiliar Death Cab for Cutie song (we both have a bit of a Ben Gibbard obsession) to then-unfamiliar artists that have become staples in my music library (Band of Horses, The Black Keys, Matt Costa).

My mom and I listened to a Jack Johnson mix he made so often that the CD is slightly worn out.

Every summer I’d hoard these mixes and at least one song off them would become my de-facto summer anthem.

For example, one summer it was “Walk on the Ocean” by Toad the Wet Sprocket (I found an acoustic version on an abandoned CD underneath the passenger seat in our car.).

It always has been and, for the time being, will remain my most-played song. It’s a song that, in addition to reminding me of lazy summers at home, makes me feel better no matter what.

For the first time in recent memory, however, I’m without my summer music resource.

My brother lives in California and isn’t going to be home at all this summer. I’ve tried a few replacements for his mix CDs, including music blogs (a little too indie for me) and friends’ recommendations (nothing’s really stuck save for a few songs).

Hopefully I’ll be able to hold out until I can get my hands on his iPod again at Thanksgiving.

Until then, I’m here in Bloomington lying on my couch, staring blankly at the ceiling and wondering whose iTunes I’ll have to raid now.