We’re nearing the median of the sultry season. We are restless in the drawn-out dusk, we practice feigned apathy, in search of one last rope swing. Branches hang low in the humidity, and beneath it we do our best to stay afloat through the provocative hot heaviness. During the most recent heat wave, I wrote to cool off. And I listened to the sounds of The Pretenders, Ruth Etting, The Motels, Sade, Jerry Byrd, Bruce Springsteen, Cass McCombs, Akira Rabelais, The Shangri-Las and more. Let's roll.