“Summer Girl (Redux)” by The High Plains Drifters is a glass of cool water dashed with salt—a song that dances on the tips of our hearts like a flame flickering in the summer breeze, only to leave us chilled when the night falls quiet. Ah, but isn’t that the way of summer love? Hot, bright, and burning too quick to last, like fireflies caught in mason jars, their light so fleeting it’s almost cruel.
Larry Studnicky leads his band with a voice that’s seen all sides of love’s coin—flipped it too many times to count, and felt the sting of it falling tails down more often than he cares to admit. His voice drips like honey left out in the sun, sweet and slow, but with a bite underneath. And those steel drums? They jingle-jangle like the laughter of lovers on a boardwalk at sunset, playing out the soundtrack of sunburned romance that we all know too well. The rhythm sways like palm trees in a forgiving wind, easy, breezy, fooling you into thinking that what you’ve got will stay forever. But forever, my dear, never lasts longer than a season.
This song, Summer Girl (Redux), is the kind of tune that rolls in like a wave, smooth and effortless, until you feel the undertow pull at your feet. The beat moves like a lazy river, and yet, hidden in the current is a sharpness—a caution wrapped in melody. You feel it in the bones of the song, the juxtaposition between the laid-back instrumentation and the lyrical tale of love’s fickle heat. There is the shine of the sun, yes, but also the shadows stretching long at dusk.
Love in the summer, Studnicky croons, is like chasing after butterflies, bright and beautiful as they flit just out of reach. And when you think you’ve caught one, held it close, you open your hand to find it’s flown away, leaving nothing but dust and memory. The steel drums echo this truth, their playful tones tugging you into a paradise that, like a mirage, vanishes before you’ve even had time to quench your thirst.
The music video, directed with a playful hand by Lars Skaland, takes this bittersweet anthem and spins it in vivid colors—like postcards from places you’ve never been but somehow always imagined. A man looks back on his life, love scattered like breadcrumbs on the path behind him. Women come and go, faces blur, but the ache remains sharp. From the first heartbreak that broke him, to the ex-wife who took the furniture and his peace of mind—each woman a reminder that love is a gamble, and too often, we bet more than we’re willing to lose.
But even in the bruised places, there is hope. The man, weathered but still standing, has nothing left but his heart. And he’s willing, still, to offer it. That is the gift, isn’t it? Love may sting, leave us tender, but we always return, willing to try again, to chase that sun no matter how often it sets. Summer Girl (Redux) is a song for the dreamers, the ones who still believe that maybe, just maybe, next time, the butterfly will stay.
Loretta Kim