“See You in September” and the Kingdom of Summer
by Richard Klin
“See You in September” was released by the Tempos in 1959. There is a sprightlier—and, to my mind inferior—1960s version by the Happenings. That cover is not germane to this discussion.
There is nothing revolutionary or even innovative about “See You in September.” Nobody cites it as a precursor to some interesting post-fifties musical stream; it is not referenced by later, cooler rock ‘n rollers. If anything, it is most likely the stuff of hoary oldies packages.
“See You in September” has most of the elements that we associate with standard 1950s Top 40: the hyper-emotive, smooth lead singer, the soaring backing vocals that would be appropriate for Happy Days. Its instrumental schema is utilitarian.
The sparse lyrics present a basic storyline. The male narrator is imploring his love interest not to forget him over the long summer break. While you’re away, he urges plaintively, don’t forget to write.
This short, relatively simple song unlocks the opus of the kingdom of summer—the endless summer that flourished and blossomed in the days before the internet.
It goes without saying that the song’s two protagonists will write each other; there really is no other recourse than to write. Long-distance calls are prohibitively expensive and imbued with a certain intrinsic gravitas. Those sorts of calls are not undertaken lightly. Letters, instead, will go back and forth, perhaps written on stationery. The unfamiliar return address and distinctive handwriting serve as a pleasant jolt amid the usual pile of mail.
The song’s point of view is pegged to the very beginning of the endless summer. June, July, and August will all assume distinctive characteristics. June’s heat and sky are not the same as July’s. July’s are not the same as August’s. The television, so delineated throughout the year, follows its own summer schedule of reruns and special programs.
“See You in September” is an immediate immersion in my summers as a seventies teen at the Jersey shore. Those summers during that era were radically different from 1950s teendom, of course, sans rolling paper and Led Zeppelin.
At the same time, they were intensely similar. Eras, most often, do not simply appear in a delineated way. They flow and morph into each other. Much of that young world the Tempos were singing about in 1959 was still intact when I was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. It speaks to a certain existence that will never, after a certain age, reappear.
Teendom summer is an autonomous realm. It is in full view of the outside world, but hermetically sealed and impassible to outsiders. That realm stretches from backyard to backyard, like a winding, flowing communications system. Its signals are the flashing of fireflies, a snatch of music, the glowing of the TV screen, your mother’s cooking, bikes whizzing by, people walking to and fro, birdsong.
This is what “See You in September” conveys. That certain smell just before a summer rainstorm, with a distinctive sharpness in the air. The pleasant fatigue after a day at the beach. The little clump of chives growing wild by the side of your house. Honeysuckle. The boardwalk.
The protagonists of this song cannot fathom the advent of September, which is so far away. Eons away.
The summer will stretch on and on. And on and on.
Quarter Notes Magazine 