So it’s 80 degrees here in Detroit, which means a lot of things. Like, summer is here, and the time is right for… listening to bad bar bands covering Jimmy Buffet on the deck at some cheesy restaurant? Please, not that.

Summer should mean that it’s time to head up to Pine Knob or Val du for some great outdoor rock and roll. But alas, that ritual seems to have died with the lp. (Or it died when I got that reckless driving ticket in Mears?) Or perhaps, more accurately, I’ve just gotten old enough that the only sort of music that really gets my rocks off happens in a bar. When I’m drunk. When they’re drunk. It costs about $5 plus whatever it takes to get my head in the right mood. (Editor’s note: Tickets to see, ahem, Chicago this summer are over $40, not including parking.)

Problem is, going to a bar in the summer to see a band, if not one of the aforementioned parrots, is often the equivalent to “making weight.” Sure I want to lose about 20 pounds, but not in one night and not by sweating. A guy the other day in a local band and gave me further motivation to skip the bar band scene for the next few months: “Most good bands don’t tour in the summer because it’s too damn hot.”

I do have high hopes for the Detroit Electronic Music Festival (I may even have a hotel party), but other than that, the soundtrack to my Summer in the City is going to have to come from my record collection. There’s much to do in the summer and I’m glad it’s here, but I’m going to miss the action and the ears ringing in the morning.