Despite the summer weather seemingly refusing to even entertain the idea of leaving for the fall weather, the spookiest of seasons is upon us. Autumn has officially arrived.
While adjusting to the arrival of fall, members of the Impact took a moment to reminisce on their summers, carefully selecting the song that defined their summer. Let these selections serve as one last fleeting glance at the freedom and warmth of summer, and remind you of what awaits us next June.
To listen to our 2025 Songs of the Summer playlist, check out the link at the bottom of this article. But first, feel free to reminisce and reflect with us, if you so choose:
Ashe Burr – “Backseat” by Balu Brigada
As the dawn of my final year at Michigan State begins to crest above the horizon, I have finally come to terms with the fact that this chapter of my life is coming to an end. It is a bit daunting to see the end so near in sight, but at the same time, I have made so many memories that I will be looking back on fondly for the rest of my life.
This song captures the feeling of knowing the end is in sight, and just how important it is to be in the moment, even if you aren’t in control of everything. I’m done with all of the various speeches I’ve had to listen to in lecture halls where you can fit a small nation within, and I am ready to take the keys and be gone, leaving as only a memory whose legacy here will forever be that Minions: Rise of Gru article I wrote at 18.
Sky Curtright – “God” by Im a Monster
To be honest, I kind of hate when people ask me how my summer was. That’s not because I dislike summer as a whole; I generally prefer it over winter, and this year in particular saw me making plenty of memories I’ll look back on fondly. The real reason is that looking back on my summers makes me confront the fact that I spent more time thinking about what I could or should be doing rather than actually doing something. That’s by no means a problem exclusive to summer, but the lack of structure that comes with extended breaks does contribute to it a fair bit. A rocky freshman year of college and uncertainty about my path forward certainly didn’t help either.
When thinking about my “song of the summer,” I went through my playlists looking for a song that captured the aimlessness that seemed to dominate my past few months. That led me back to a song released by underground-rap provocateur Edward Skeletrix on the very first day of 2025 under his alias “Im a Monster.” The opener to one of two albums entitled Museum Music he released that day, the opening moments of that song have been seared into my mind through constant repetitions of it. The beat, courtesy of up-and-coming producer Lush Soma, wastes no time, hitting you with sludgy walls of bass and piercing synth leads. The beat on its own could’ve potentially been a song of the summer candidate, but it’s the way Edward Skeletrix comes into the track that has really stuck with me.
“Lately I been feelin’ like /
Lately I been feelin’ like I need God”
The rest of the lyrics, while delivered in a similar despondent tone, are much more in line with the slightly satirical take on modern underground rap tropes that dominate much of Edward Skeletrix’s music, Maybe it’s because of that lyrical dissonance, though, that these seemingly genuine opening lyrics have even more resonance for me. I’m not a religious or spiritual person in any sense, and I don’t know what Edward Skeletrix personally believes, but the desire for something, anything, to give you some sort of guidance is one that I can very strongly relate to. Without going deeper into my personal neuroses than I already have, the idea that I’m somehow living “wrong” is one that my brain finds itself considering with some regularity.
I’m admittedly reading quite a bit into a simple line from an artist that, by his own admission, doesn’t particularly like making music, but that bluntness is partially why I think it has hardly left my rotation since I first heard it. Sometimes the simplest ideas are the ones with the most staying power, and the opening moments of “God” will almost certainly be popping back up in my head for a long time to come.
Maria Murphy – “Dancing in the Moonlight” by King Harvest
Like most college students, I spent the majority of my summer working! I really enjoy my summer job, I am a lifeguard at a local pool near my house. Getting to be outside in the sunshine is lovely, especially when there is great music playing, and there was.
Our manager played a playlist of about 20-25 songs every single day so I literally heard the same songs every day multiple times. Vibes were always high when “Dancing in the Moonlight” by King Harvest came on. Whenever I was annoyed or in a bad mood, it honestly just made me feel really grateful for everything I have. It kind of has this wonderful effect where it makes you forget about all of your problems the moment you hear the intro.
So, my song of the summer was “Dancing in the Moonlight” by King Harvest, a certified yacht rock classic. And I just sang it with my roommates during karaoke at Crunchy’s a few weeks ago.
Ryan Wilbert – “Taxes” by Geese
Arriving at the official halfway point of my college experience, I naturally experienced an existential wave of grief mourning my youth and everything I’ve had to leave behind in the wake of my growth. Naturally, I also spent a good portion of my summer surrounded by children who have never heard of the word “existential” before and ask if I’m “married yet.” Yes, I worked at a youth summer camp, which I personally believe to be a quintessential step in ego death — no one will bring you down a peg quite like a swarm of eight-year-olds who have no concept of when an opinion is an inside or an outside thought.
Strangely, I found the experience to be cathartic, While I am simultaneously struggling to manage my own self-criticism and confidence in my intelligence, I am standing as a beacon of knowledge and other-worldly experiences for a flock of children who weren’t even fully conscious during the COVID-19 lockdown. Importantly, I found providing my musical expertise to be the most exciting transaction of information. Some of the kids were deeply confused by the music I liked, questioning why I wasn’t playing anything from the “K-Pop Demon Hunters” soundtrack, while one or two young hippies appreciated my classic rock. I spent most of the day pitching softballs, coloring with crayons and handing out good-behavior cash all under the scolding sun, blaring my personal indie rock curation while fending off a mental breakdown.
One of the songs that I most listened to — and one that I believe best summarizes my experience — is the song “Taxes” by Geese. Straddling the line between sincerity and satire, the song conveys both a cosmic force pressuring you to atone and a personal push to take control of your own decisions. Some days I can feel the weight of my future stringing me along, reminding myself of the possible mistakes I’ve made to get here — in the same breath, I remind myself that I am only making the best decisions I can make in the moment. Like willingly getting myself out of bed to feel the wraith of children, I know the pains of life are inevitable — but it doesn’t mean I have to let life break my heart for me. I often looped this song while I raked sand, clearing out small sandcastles and deep holes, holding on to the belief that my efforts would eventually work out. You’d have to nail me down if you want me to stop — is how I feel as long as I ignore how much of my paycheck is lost to taxes.
Kaden Kouyoumijan – “Roundabout Racehorse” by Welly
As soon as the sun begins to shine, I pull out my summer playlist consisting of nothing but earworm-worthy indie pop designed for driving with all the windows down. But this summer was undeniably different. With my first year of college creeping up, I felt more anxious than anything. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted nothing but to listen to literal sunshine in waveform, but it just didn’t sit right. I found myself getting deep into the incredibly English indie rock band, Welly. Living in a post-Brexit world, Welly’s songs come from a place of political, economical, and social discomfort. While you never forget where Welly is from, with their thick Southampton accents and British slang, the subjects they talk of are still incredibly relatable to someone living across the pond.
“Roundabout Racehorse” in particular reflects on wanting nothing more than to leave your hometown in the suburbs. The song describes a “one horse town” where everyone is expected to follow the same track as everyone else, never leaving. It expresses a feeling of being stuck, even describing the town as “hell on earth”. The persona of the song is the only one who seems to feel this way. But they have no doubt that they must leave. The song ends with “I’ve got to get out”, followed by the repetition of “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t go home tonight”.
Listening to “Roundabout Racehorse” for the first time, it seemed to describe the exact feelings I felt of living in my hometown. It had always seemed like everyone around me was born in Metro Detroit, went to Michigan or Michigan State, came home, and never left again. I didn’t want that for myself. Not with so much of the world available to explore. I had always imagined going away to college as a big shift hundreds of miles away. East Lansing was not quite what I had in mind. I spent most of my summer worrying that I would feel just as stuck in East Lansing as I did in Bloomfield Hills. “Roundabout Racehorse” provided me some comfort in knowing that this is a universal feeling.
Now that I am at Michigan State, I now realize that I didn’t have to worry as much as I did. I’ve found more of a community here than I ever did in the suburbs back home. I still love this song, and very much resonate with everything Welly has to say. But while East Lansing is only an hour and a half from home, still emanating some feelings of suburbia, it’s a start.
Brooke Racine – “GODSTAINED” by Quadeca
As I write this, I am trying to figure out how to summarize my summer in a few paragraphs. To start, I had an online internship that I occasionally questioned the legitimacy of. I wasn’t selling Cutco Knives, but a remote and unpaid internship would make anyone question their circumstances. I also changed my major, which made scheduling for this semester one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. The wildest part of my summer was when I served on a jury for an attempted murder trial. For those three days, I felt like I was the unknowing participant in a new season of Jury Duty — waiting for everyone to reveal they were actors. As far as my favorite summer moments, my top two were riding Siren’s Curse front row at Cedar Point the day after it opened and seeing Tyler, the Creator in the pit at the CHROMAKOPIA tour.
My three constants this summer were watching all eight seasons of Dexter, writing for my internship at my local coffee shop and helping my mom hunt for a new home. I enjoyed checking Zillow every morning and touring questionable condos, but I silently mourned the loss of my childhood home, which stood as my last connection to my hometown. My mom is closing on a new house in two weeks, and while I’m happy for her and this new chapter, I find myself scared to let go of a place that has been a comfort for the last 10 years of my life. It is not my true childhood home, but it is a place that has watched me develop throughout my most formative years.
Another constant I didn’t mention was “GODSTAINED” by Quadeca. Quadeca’s mesmerizing instrumentation, production and storytelling cemented “GODSTAINED” as my song of the summer, and Vanisher, Horizon Scraper as my album of the summer. Though the song’s narrator sings about a bottle of windshield wiper fluid found at sea, I find myself relating to the sailor’s longing for what once was. Depicted in the music video for “GODSTAINED,” the sailor finds a bottle drifting in the ocean, expecting a message from the mainland or something with meaning. Instead, it’s a mere bottle of windshield wiper fluid that expired in December 1998.
“Fiber glass solution, there’s a message on your skin /
Flakin’ from the paper, I can read you from within /
I thought you knew something /
That I never will”
Like the sailor, I will soon leave my home for good. Though our situations are vastly different, we share a common thread of yearning for a connection to our previous lives and comforts. Yet, we need to set out on a journey of self-development that can only happen when severed from what we know.
Rayna Nadeau – “House of the Rising Sun” by The Animals
My summer began with the ending sentences of a book. The closing of a beaten up cover, sliding it onto a bookcase. The finality of walking across a stage and shaking the hand of my principal. Tossing caps into the air. Soon I will be picking up the next book in the series. Running my hands along the etched words, soon to begin the next book in my life: college. But first my summer awaits.
The song I picked makes me think of the ending of a Western. The protagonist’s boots pick up dust as he walks off into the sunset, a cowboy hat pulled over his eyes. A level of uncertainty awaits him. A feeling of accomplishment accompanies him. His lungs filled with a waiting, steady ease with what’s to come and yet his sole focus is on the sight in front of him. The sky turns a shade of a thousand colors.
I remember playing the song in the car with the windows rolled down. My mom was at the wheel, driving us through Belle Isle. The wind whipping at my face and a feeling of contentment washed over me. The uncertainties of the future left on the back burner. I watched as people set out chairs and kids played in the park. Birds flew overhead and the river lulled its sleepy current by. All this going on as we just drove on past, thinking of what we’ll do next.
At that moment, I am the cowboy. The protagonist at the end of the story riding off to a world of unknowns, with a weight of calm on their shoulders. I never paid attention to the meaning of the song, only the feeling. The vibrations of the bass and the flow of the rhythm. The picture in my head does not align with the lyrics of the song. The beat of it conveys an entirely different point and produces a different picture in my head than the lyrics originally intended. I still imagine the cowboy going off to new adventures, to new heights, picking up a new book to explore and to find what else is awaiting for them out there. The first chapter begins with a summer already underway, an introduction to where the cowboy will explore next. A summer job, a few grad parties, and finally, the place where the story really begins, university.
Cooper Randall – “Wooly” by Breathe Carolina
Have you ever pictured an event where you can listen to bouncy bubblegum EDM music but also mosh and lurch after every chorus? Me neither. At least not before I heard “Wooly” by Breathe Carolina.
I was first prompted to listen to “Wooly” after hearing an excellent club remix of “Blackout” (this album’s lead single) at Traverse City’s best and only gay dance bar, Sidetraxxx. “Blackout” was a song I grew up listening to on my mp3 player, and it’s still a danceable club classic. If the DJs are playing it at the bars, it’s a gem that stands out among your standard modern dance/rap music. So I thought: why not listen to the rest of the album? Boy was I in for a truly epic surprise.
This song is a jarring shock to the senses, and truly unlike anything I had ever heard upon listening for the first time. Coming off of their 2011 album, Hell Is What You Make It, Wooly is one of the most in-your-face shocking genre mashups of all time. With cheery, high-register vocals in the chorus, and genuinely gnarly hardcore breakdowns throughout, Wooly is an innovative masterpiece at best, and an entertaining novelty at worst. Steeped with perfect 2010s corniness, this song was one of my most listened to over the summer. If you want to hold onto your summer for a few weeks longer, or bike faster than you ever have, give Wooly or Hell Is What You Make It a listen!
