Photograph, remembering the summer…

I could feel it in my bones.

Driving home from college after successfully completing my freshman year, something told me that I was in for a banner summer. The calendar hadn’t even flipped over from April to May yet, but the air was warm and the sun was beating down and my car windows were open and the music was blaring. Getting off the highway, it felt like my hometown was welcoming me back with open arms. Somehow, I just knew I was about to live the greatest summer of my life.

I’m no great believer in clairvoyance, but my premonition that day is absolutely the closest I’ve ever come to predicting the future. Because, as it turned out, the summer of 2010 was the summer I fell in love with the girl I was going to marry.

There’s a special gravity to the albums and songs you hear for the first time right around the start of any new relationship, but that counts for double when it’s the relationship that’s going to last for the long haul. Such was the case for me with Black & White, the second album from Arizona rock band The Maine.

The Maine had come up as part of the “neon pop-punk” wave of the late-2000s, a micro-movement defined by uber-poppy, glossily-produced rock songs that sounded so bright you could almost hear the saturated colors in the music. Fast-forward to 2025 and The Maine have outlasted every other vestige of that movement, evolving into a widely-respected independent rock band whose music folds in influences ranging from Third Eye Blind to new wave to Americana. These days, they are one of my very favorite bands. Back in 2010, though, they were only barely on my radar.