Some of the best music is summer music — those tracks you have blasting in your car with your windows rolled down, hum while walking barefoot down a sun-warmed sidewalk or hear softly flowing from your speakers while you and your friends lay in the grass and look at a vast, blue sky above. These are the songs that when played years later always will remind you of that summer adventure or romance or leisure, transporting you back to a sunnier and simpler time.

In the weeks leading up to summer’s official start, I always find myself searching for such music. Some songs I consciously decide should be included on the playlist — maybe because I know they will be popular among friends or because it seems the artist intended it for summer play — but others just naturally become a part of the seasonal soundtrack. Something about their style is suited for my summer, and I can’t help but want to hear them played again and again.

And this year, those are the songs of Philadelphia band Vacationer.

I discovered Vacationer when its track “Trip” was played on our resident college radio station, Impact (89FM), and I instantly was captivated. The song, which describes the need for an escape and contains sounds of a tropical surrounding, was unlike anything I’d heard in a while. So often, musicians seem to recycle the same ideas, but this was something different. And so I was hooked.

Vacationer released its debut LP, “Gone,” at the end of March, and the record contains perfect electro-pop, a sound members have dubbed Nu-hula. At times, the act reminds me of Animal Collective or Beach House.

With its music, the group wants to create an experience for listeners. Vacationer is all about capturing the sound of — you guessed it — your dream vacation. On their Facebook page, members state, “The audio program you are about to experience was designed with the sole purpose of relaxing the listener and sending their mind on a well-deserved trip. No airfare needed, no reservations.”

Their warm sound is seasoned with so many elements — orchestral parts, bouncing beats, hazy atmosphere, island inspiration. The male vocals are sweet and simple. And the album seems wonderfully aged, like the music is drifting from 1960s vinyl.

Vacationer’s sound is light and airy and sunny. Listening to its music only confirms it: I am ready for summer vacation.

Listen now: “Everyone Knows.” This song, with its dreamy beats and harmonies, is just another one of Vacationer’s tracks that’s meant to be listened to with your sunglasses on and hair blowing in the breeze.

“We were slow to complain/We once were amazed.”

I know it’s my biggest curse: I think too much.

Sometimes my thoughts are enjoyable, and sometimes they just seem like static, but no matter their nature, my internal radio always is buzzing. I contemplate decisions, entertain curiosities and analyze interactions, getting lost in my mind.

And I have a feeling Kendrick Lamar does the same. With the variety of ideas and topics he highlights in his raps, it’s apparent the 24-year-old Compton, Calif., artist’s mind always is moving. He says it best in one of his songs, “Penny for my thoughts/Everybody please hold up your wallets.”

But Lamar is able to articulate them and turn them into something powerful — music.

Lamar’s sound is fluid. Sometimes his mellow music is backed by jazzy horns, piano and drums, while at others, manufactured clangs and futuristic whirls can be heard in the background. But it’s his lyrics that take center stage.

Lamar will rap about inconsequential amusements — parties, women, weed. Like is so often the case in hip-hop, his songs are filled with expletives, and at moments, his statements can be cringeworthy.

But there also are so many times when his songs are profound. In “Ab-Soul’s Outro,” Lamar states, “I’m not the next socially aware rapper.” And I agree. He isn’t the archetypal artist-activist whose do-gooder musical messages are off-putting to many listeners. In his raps, Lamar offers commentary that his fans can understand and relate to. It is with this empathy that he is able to incite others to think, discuss and even act.

He has tracks that discuss his hedonistic and apathetic generation and others about abuse to women. In “Blow My High,” the rapper asks, “Get some ambition, why you bored?” and in “No Makeup (Her Vice),” he says, “Don’t you know your imperfections/Is a wonderful blessing/From heaven is where you get it from.” There are just so many of Lamar’s messages that I love.

Lamar is on the way to the top. He just released a song with Dr. Dre that is sure to be a summer hit. And I’m glad.

This is a guy who deserves the fame. This is a guy who needs to have his music heard.

Listen now: “Blow My High.” This laid-back song about living large is one of my favorites by Lamar.

“Wonder what’s behind them Ray Bans/Eyes of a coward, I understand.”

I did not expect to be so moved by The Black Keys.

As much as I like the Ohio-bred act — and as much as the band has me grooving whenever I blast its music from my speakers at home — I knew that this time, The Black Keys wouldn’t have me dancing unabashedly. Even though I was seeing the group perform live, I was sure the fact that it would be in an arena holding about 12,000 people was enough to make the experience less than stirring.

At big shows, I hate not being able to see the performers’ faces or feel the beats pulsating under my feet. I have found most concerts with stadium seating to be impersonal and unimpressive. Why would this one be any different?

But despite the hundreds of people that stood between me and the band, I was roused by Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney’s energetic, bluesy rock. It was loud and rhythmic and vibrated throughout the huge room, inspiring me to jump, sing out, swing my hips and throw my hands toward the ceiling above. The Black Keys had proved me wrong.

The Black Keys has been around for a while — the pair has been making music since 2002. But only in recent years — with the release of “El Camino” in 2011 and “Brothers” in 2010 — has the public really taken notice. And boy am I glad they have.

Guitarist and vocalist Auerbach and drummer Carney make soulful, lo-fi rock ‘n’ roll that seems perfectly suited for a late night at a southern bar. It’s gritty and smoky and sexy.

Auerbach’s voice, fuzzed by the microphone, often seems far away, and the band’s lyrics, which usually are about love, are simple and catchy. In “Lonely Boy” Auerbach sings, “I’ve got a love that keeps me waiting/I’m a lonely boy,” and in “Next Girl” he promises, “Oh my next girl/She’ll be nothing like my ex girl/I made mistakes back then/I’ll never do it again.” For The Black Keys, it’s sound that takes center stage.

The Black Keys’ music features electric guitar, drums, tambourine, whistles, handclaps and more. And it’s always going. The drum beats and guitar riffs never slow down, keeping you grooving no matter where you are.

Listen now: “Howlin’ For You.” This song, with The Black Keys’ classic bluesy buzz, is about the uncontrollable excitement a sweetheart inspires.

“Mockingbird/Can’t you see/Little girl’s/Got a hold on me.”

I don’t think I took Feist seriously at first.

She was just the artist who sang that pop song everyone had on repeat. I, of course, enjoyed “1234” as much as the next person, but as the songstress behind the tune that had suddenly become an obsession, I figured Feist had to be a one-hit wonder. She soon would fade into distant memory — a swift sensation only to be reminisced upon when some radio disc jockey gave her song a spin for old time’s sake, like all the other short-lived rock stars of years past.

So in Oct. 2011, when Feist released her newest album, “Metals,” I hardly paid any attention.

It wasn’t until the end of January, when I stumbled upon the music video for one of its tracks, “The Bad In Each Other,” that I reconsidered Feist’s catalog. And I quickly realized this woman is special.

Feist’s brand of indie pop is something being produced by few others. Her sound can be powerful, but it’s subtle in its surge.

Feist sings with a sweet warble, which at times can be a bit hard to understand. But no matter the subject of her song, her voice soothes. Unassuming piano and strings back it up perfectly.

From “The Circle Married the Line” to “Cicadas and Gulls” to “Undiscovered First,” “Metals” is filled not only with tracks with fantastic names but it also contains clever lines and lyrics. And meanings in her music rarely are spelled out, allowing every listener to find something unique that speaks to them in one song or another.

Feist’s work feels natural — “The Bad In Each Other” has a desert grit while “The Circle Married the Line” sounds like a drift through a pristine forest. The album is expansive, carrying sound that easily could fill empty American landscapes.

“Metals” is the only Feist album I have given careful consideration. There is so much more of her work I need to give a listen — Feist has been releasing music of her own since 1999. But what I’ve found so far, I have come to love.

Hers is music to be played at dusk, after a hard day’s work. There is an underlying weariness to much of Feist’s work, but it isn’t disheartening. Listening to Feist, you realize the possibility. After a good night’s rest, who knows what you will achieve.

Listen now: “The Bad In Each Other.” This song, with its pressing beat and subdued blues, describes the unfortunate understanding that a love just isn’t quite right.

“When a good man and a good woman/Can’t find the good in each other.”

Watching the latest music video released by Odd Future — a hip-hop collective of California kids ranging in age from 17 to 24 — all I could do was grin.

The video features members of the group gathered in front of the white walls of a Terry Richardson photo shoot, props such as airsoft guns and masks in hand. They have taken a break for a musical interlude, and as their song “Oldie” begins to play, one by one, Odd Future’s members take turns spitting their verses. The rest of the gang can be seen laughing, dancing, patting one another on the back and rapping along, arms raised and heads bobbing in appreciation of their friends’ rhymes.

The video is nearly 11 minutes long, but each time I watch, I am entertained for the duration. And I can’t help thinking, I just want to be best friends with these kids.

On Tuesday, Odd Future released its official debut album, “The OF Tape, Vol. 2,” and I have had this record on repeat ever since.

The members of Odd Future always seem to be having a good time — and always are up to some sort of trouble. Their music is proof of it.

Like any good rap album, the tracks on “The OF Tape, Vol. 2” are packed with line after line of wonderful wordiness. But in “Oldie,” member Frank Ocean says it best: “Course you know the vibe’s as fly as the rhymes.”

Odd Future is made up of about 10 members who each bring something different — and something great — to the album, depending on the track. From Frank Ocean’s R&B to Hodgy Beat’s classic raps to Syd the Kyd’s electronic production, each song is multidimensional.

Odd Future’s music certainly is explicit. The group often receives criticism for its sometimes violent, homophobic or misogynistic lyrics, but members say the public takes them too seriously. They promise they’re not really filled with ignorance or hate — and I believe them. Hearing the wittiness of their rhymes, it’s obvious members not only are jokers, they also are radicals. At times, they just crave the attention, but at others, their goal is to incite a change.

Whenever the members of Odd Future get together, they always seem to be smirking. Their gang functions because of camaraderie and mischief, and listening to their music, you can hear it.

Turning up the stereo, I’m surrounded by the voices and the laughs of Tyler, The Creator and Earl Sweatshirt and Left Brain and Mike G. And sometimes, that’s exactly the company I want to keep.

Listen now: “Oldie.” This song is long, but it is a comprehensive compilation, showcasing the terrific talent of most of the Odd Future crew.

“Bumpin’ oldies off my cellular phone.”

It’s official. The time has come for me to leave the angst, recklessness and naivete of my teenage years behind.

Last week I had a birthday. I turned the big 2-0.

Although turning 20 isn’t as exciting as the crossover to 18 or 21, it does mark a small milestone. With the passing of that birthday, I no longer can be classified as a teenager.

Of course there are some aspects of being a teen I’m happy to leave behind: those awkward phases of puberty, raging hormones, not being taken seriously because of your youth. But there definitely are some memories and mindsets I’d like to hold onto as I begin my next decade.

In honor of my reminiscence about ages 13-19, I thought I’d share a playlist of some of the songs that remind me of my teenage years and about that inevitable process of growing up.

“Teenagers,” by My Chemical Romance

This definitely is an adolescent anthem — one that I loved when it was released in 2007 and that still moves me to sing along. My Chemical Romance describes today’s troubled teens and adults’ attempts at straightening them out: “They’re gonna clean up looks/With all the lies in the books/To make a citizen out of you.” The track features good, hard rock ‘n’ roll and includes a guitar break and a shouted chorus that might just cause you to fist pump and head bang as your teenage self might have.

“F.N.T.,” by Semisonic

In this song, alternative rock act Semisonic sings about the unknown excitement that comes with first love — the track’s title is an acronym for the phrase, “Fascinating new thing.” It’s an experience had by just about everyone throughout the course of their teenage years. As members harmonize, they describe someone who never really seems to have been pursued: “I’m surprised that you’ve never been told before/That you’re lovely and you’re perfect/And that somebody wants you.” I first heard this song on the soundtrack of the classic William Shakespeare-inspired teen romantic comedy “10 Things I Hate About You,” another factor forever placing it in my mind in the context of my youth.

“For You I Will (Confidence),” by Teddy Geiger

Who else remembers this song? Ladies? At the age of 14, it was Teddy Geiger’s album I had on repeat. Not only was this singer/songwriter adorable, but he had a mesmerizing voice with a slight rasp and a lot of emotion — reminiscent of John Mayer. In this song, Geiger talks about the overwhelming feeling accompanying having a crush and vows to muster up every ounce of his confidence to approach the object of his affection. The tune describes teenage romantic longing at its best: “Cause I could fall asleep in those eyes/Like a water bed.”

“Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” by The Beach Boys

So often as a teen, all you want to do is grow up — to be given independence and be able to make your own decisions about your life. But as an adolescent, that isn’t always allowed. This song is about just that: “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older/Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long.” It opens with strums of a mandolin that set the stage for daydreaming, soon followed by some sunshine-y doo-wops. Something about the sound of the boys’ surf pop always seems to be a perfect soundtrack to teenage adventures. And for those who already have matured, this song is a good reminder to stay excited about the privileges growing up allows.

“5 Years Time,” by Noah and the Whale

This folk song features a look into the future — something that teens often do. How different could life look in five years? Thinking about how much people change from ages 13-19, it’s exciting to realize how much really can happen in five years: “And though nearly all these moments are just in my head/I’ll be thinking about them as I’m lying in bed/And I know that really it might not even come true/But in my mind I’m having a pretty good time with you.” It’s a track that is simply charming, featuring whistles, ukulele and sweet guy-girl vocals.

“The Middle,” by Jimmy Eat World

This song was one song that really spoke to my teenage soul. It’s a message to a young girl, who alternative rock group Jimmy Eat World reminds that despite life’s stresses, everything will be alright: “Hey, don’t write yourself off yet/It’s only in your head you feel left out or looked down on/Just try your best, try everything you can.” With messages of ignoring peer pressure and staying true to yourself, it’s just what many teens need to hear.

“Smells Like Teen Spirit,” Nirvana

There’s no question a playlist about the teen years would include this song. In the 1990s, Nirvana was the voice of teenage angst and rebellion, and this song is about just that: “Here we are now, entertain us/I feel stupid and contagious.” It’s a prime example of perfectly grungy garage rock and makes for perfect listening when something has made you mad.

“Loser,” by Beck

The lyrics of this song are ridiculously crazy — and clever. Beck talks about everything from beefcake pantyhose to a Bozo nightmare to spray painting vegetables, finally stating, “I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?” His creation is wonderfully multifaceted, laced with rock, hip-hop and folk influences. As teenagers, we’re all some sort of loser. And although we now can celebrate our transition out of those awkward adolescent years, Beck reminds listeners that it still is important to hold onto a little bit of loser.

Members of Breathe Owl Breathe are in a world of their own.

Micah Middaugh, Andréa Moreno-Beals and Trevor Hobbs are from East Jordan, Mich., and it’s in their cabin there or holed up in some other Michigan homestead where they create their woodsy and whimsical tunes.

Whenever I listen to Breathe Owl Breathe, I can imagine the three friends working to create their next composition, traversing nearby trails and telling jokes around the dinner table in between their recording of drum beats and fine-tuning of lyrics, with no one else around except for a few critters in the brush and branches outside. And I can’t help but want to be a part of their gang.

They are friends to play games with, to imagine with, to have fun with. Middaugh, Moreno-Beals and Hobbs know how to play, and their youthful spirit carries into their music.

Breathe Owl Breathe’s sound is playful — almost childlike in its eccentricity. With each of its songs, the band tells a story. Sometimes the topics are familiar — snow, swimming, board games — and often they are outdoorsy.

But despite many songs’ initial semblance of simplicity, deeper, universal issues also are discussed. In “Dragon,” a song about an unexpected relationship between a princess and a dragon, Middaugh asks, “How do you stop loving someone?” And in “Across the Loch,” he admits, “I was afraid of losing you.”

Middaugh is the lead singer, and on each track, his tales are accompanied by the vocals of Moreno-Beals, whose unique and rich voice seems just as suited for old-time radio as the digital recordings of today. Moreno-Beals also is an exceptional cellist, and the croon of her instrument is much of what makes Breathe Owl Breathe’s music so great.

The act’s earlier work can be considered more straightforward folk, with just the plucks of Middaugh’s guitar and the trio’s voices prominently heard, while recent releases, including 2010’s “Magic Central,” carry a fuller sound — a variety of instruments, including the melodica, banjo and tambourine, are used.

But in album after album, one element of Breathe Owl Breathe’s sound remains constant. With their music, members transport you to that quirky world of theirs. And sometimes, that’s just the place to which your mind wants to wander.

Listen now: “Swimming.” This song, which will make you long for the clear, cool water of your favorite swimming hole, was the first Breathe Owl Breathe tune I heard, and it instantly had me hooked.

“You’ll never hit bottom/You’ll never grow tired/Of this wonder you’re under/Water.”

I am quite the contradiction.

My two favorite realms of music hardly could seem more different: folk and hip-hop.

There are times when my mood calls for folk’s soft strumming and homegrown simplicity and others when I’m all about the grit and raw power of a rap and its accompanying beats.

But there is something these genres usually have in common: intricate lyrics. That is why I so appreciate them both.

Most of my friends know I’m a listener of folk music. I enjoy folk because its artists often tell moving stories within their songs.

But fewer know of my affinity for that other genre. I love rap because I love words. It’s nonstop wordplay. And lately, it’s all I’ve been listening to.

One rapper who recently has appeared on my radar is Childish Gambino — also known as comedian and “Community” actor Donald Glover. And this guy’s got wordplay down.

His album “Camp,” which was released last November, is full of many great lines and great pop culture references, from “The Land Before Time” to Mumford & Sons to Casey Anthony.

Glover knows his musical talent is a surprise to many. But it’s true; he’s got flow. His songs have compelling beats that get under your skin — on various tracks he’s backed by drums, strings, a chorus of voices, synth.

Like so many rappers, Glover is angry and explicit. His album is about being an outsider — mostly about being considered neither black enough nor white enough for his peers.

Glover has been criticized for trying to elicit pity he doesn’t deserve — such as in “Fire Fly,” when he mentions being “the only black kid at a Sufjan concert.” But I don’t need Glover to justify his remarks. Although some of his complaints might be petty, we’ve all had such trivial feelings of insignificance. When Glover talks about telling off “people who think hatin on me makes them distinguished,” I understand. I appreciate his music as an emotional release, no validation necessary.

And with such polished production, striking beats and lyrical wit, I can’t help but like this actor/comedian turned musician’s effort.

Listen now: “Heartbeat.” This song is about the difficulty of cutting ties with an old flame and is one of Childish Gambino’s most popular.

“We used to hold hands like field trips.”

I wasn’t sure I should even bother with this one.

After all, Lana Del Rey already has been everywhere: on music blogs, in magazines, on “Saturday Night Live,” on Twitter.

What else could I contribute to the conversation that hasn’t already been discussed about this shining star?

But I like Lana Del Rey — really like her. So, I decided I had to throw in my two cents.

It seems Del Rey is someone listeners either love or hate. There has been such an uproar about this new artist, and although I’m not sure she deserves such unfaltering attention, I do think Del Rey has talent that’s worth a mention. Her album, “Born to Die,” is a standout.

Del Rey is unabashed and unapologetic. Talking of living fast and hard, she’s the kind of girl women want to be and men want to be with.

“Born to Die” is set to a backdrop of orchestral, hip-hop infused pop. Del Rey’s voice is soft and sweet — her vocals never rise up or hit listeners with much power — and it’s easy to imagine her looking up with Bambi eyes and pouted lips as she sings.

The album’s sound is lush, but there is an underlying sense of hollowness that permeates. Its songs are about instant gratification and fleeting pleasure: hooking the bad boy, sipping on Cristal, sneaking out, kissing in the dark. And at times, that’s tragic.

Del Rey might rely too heavily on Lolita appeal. Most of her songs are about wanting little more than a man’s love. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you/Everything I do,” she sings in “Video Games,” and similar statements surface throughout the album’s other tracks. I wish Del Rey had a bit more to say than it’s finding a man that makes life worth living.

This is an album that contains clever, cute lyrics and not a ton of substance. But that doesn’t bother me. I enjoy songs such as “Blue Jeans,” in which Del Rey sings, “You were sort of punk rock, I grew up on hip-hop/But you fit me better than my favorite sweater” and “Off to the Races,” in which she says, “I’m your little Scarlett, starlet/Singing in the garden/Kiss me on my open mouth.” You can sing and dance along to Del Rey’s tracks. They’re sweeping and sultry and all-around enjoyable.

The life Del Rey describes in “Born to Die” might seem glamorous, but such fun can’t last. With her wild nights and reckless attachment, Del Rey is a hot mess. And although she’s not someone to model your mindset after, she is someone whose music will provide you with the perfect soundtrack to your late-night adventures.

Listen now: “Video Games.” This song about being in rapture with a video game-playing male was Del Rey’s first hit — an Internet sensation when it was released in 2011 — and it remains my favorite.

“I’m in his favorite sundress/Watching me get undressed/Take that body downtown.”

On Valentine’s Day, I won’t be longing to receive a blooming bouquet of a dozen roses, an intimate note or an assortment of chocolate-covered treats.

Instead, this Feb. 14, I’ll be dreaming of being at the The WYCE Jammie Awards. Beginning at 5 p.m. Tuesday at Grand Rapids venue The Intersection, West Michigan radio station WYCE will honor the best regional music at its 13th annual awards ceremony.

The Jammies are awards I only first heard of this season. After keeping tabs on many of my favorite area artists and seeing excited postings by these musicians about the awards when nominations were revealed, I did some digging to find out what exactly these Jammies could be.

And after happening upon the list of contenders, I was ecstatic. WYCE has nominated the best new artist, song of the year, best production, outstanding artist and best alternative, jazz, funk, traditional and Americana albums, among others. And I am happy to see local acts receive some recognition.

Some of my known favorites, including Chris Bathgate and Lansing-based duo Gifts or Creatures, are up for multiple titles.

Other noteworthy locals also are up for a nod. One musician whose sound I recently fell for, Jacob Bullard, is nominated for his short release “Late July.” Bullard is a singer-songwriter who creates soft, sweet music that definitely deserves to be applauded. I’m glad to see Grand Rapids band The Crane Wives’ plucky and stirring folk is in the running for best album and outstanding artist and that the gentle rasp and steady sound of Small Houses could take the title of Best Americana Album.

The list of nominations isn’t perfect. The music of one band, the Soil & the Sun, noticeably is absent — definitely an unfortunate oversight in my book.

But seeing such an extensive list of regional musicians up for awards is inspiring. The fact that the list is so long and so diverse and yet still is missing some worthy area artists just goes to show how much killer regional music can be found throughout Michigan.

Awards such as The Jammies bring local acts the recognition they deserve. They open up the minds of attendees to the expansive and wonderful world of Michigan music. And in allowing the gathering of the myriad of talented company Michigan keeps, such ceremonies spark continued creativity in nominees.

The best music isn’t always on the Billboard Hot 100 or up for a Grammy. Sometimes the best music is found right at home.