Ah, “Summer Girl (Redux),” by The High Plains Drifters—how could one describe it without invoking amazing tales of fleeting love and scorching passion, like the song of some doomed knight chasing a dragon’s tail across the burning sands of Dorne? The anthem rolls in like the hot winds of summer, teasing and tantalizing with promises of warmth and ease, yet always carrying that cruel undertone, the hint of autumn lurking just beyond the horizon, like a shadow beneath the waves.
Led by the ever-eloquent Larry Studnicky, The High Plains Drifters are masters of weaving genre and story together, like the maesters of old, binding threads of rock and wit into a tome of bittersweet balladry. “Summer Girl (Redux)” is no simple song—it is a saga. A ballad sung in the halls of forgotten kings, where love burns bright but always, always fades with the dying of the day. The steel drums chime like the bells of Braavos, lulling you into a false sense of serenity, as if the entire affair is a leisurely stroll along the beaches of the Summer Isles. But oh, how deceptive those tropical winds can be, hiding behind them the inevitable chill of heartbreak.
Studnicky, our troubadour, sings with the weary voice of a man who has danced with too many lovers, a seasoned knight in a court of fools, long acquainted with the bitter aftertaste of romance turned sour. His vocals, rich with sardonic wit, carry the weight of one who has seen empires rise and fall, who has watched summer turn to winter in the blink of an eye. Like the Red Viper of Dorne, he charms you with his swagger and allure, but you know—deep down—that this song, like all summer flings, is destined to end in sorrow.
Musically, “Summer Girl (Redux)” is a sly little viper, smooth and sinuous in its rhythms, yet always coiling, waiting to strike. The steel drums sway and shimmer like the silver seas of the Summer Isles, and the beat? Oh, it lures you in, like a pirate’s siren song. But beneath that seductive rhythm lies a sharp edge, a warning, a bitter truth—that summer love, for all its sweetness, is but a fleeting thing. A rose in bloom for a single day, only to wither when the night falls.
And then, the music video. A visual banquet, as lavish as any royal feast in King’s Landing. Directed by Lars Skaland, it spins a tale of a middle-aged man reflecting on his lost loves, each memory like a ghost in the crypts of Winterfell—haunting, bittersweet. The women of his past drift in and out of the frame like specters of his own making, from the first heartbreak, to the ex-wife who left him not just with scars, but with emptiness in his heart.
Yet, like all good tales, there is a sliver of hope, a glimmer of dawn in the darkness. The protagonist, battered but unbroken, stands ready to love again—perhaps more cautious, more weathered, but willing, nonetheless, to throw his heart once more into the fire.
In the end, “Summer Girl (Redux)” is not just a song; it is a story, a journey, a reminder that even in the warmth of summer, winter is always coming.
Jodi Marxbury