Mason Summit

Loud Music and Soft Drinks is Mason Summit’s follow-up album to his critically acclaimed 2013 release, Absentee. That was a collection of songs I felt instantly marked Mr. Summit for future success as a singer/songwriter. The new songs only add to that strong first impression.

Listening to Mason Summit makes me happy. It always has, and it still does. The sound he creates brings back memories of growing up in California. It’s not that there is anything derivative about his music; on the contrary, he is an original. But there are elements inherent in his music that remind me of the endless energy and possibility of young adulthood — the cool, the self-edited drama and the ability to rebound from any dark place the music goes. The words and notes he sings and plays fall upon the ear like moments of discovery, each of which string together to fully explore whatever idea or feeling he is trying to convey. The overall feeling is that of a conversation between wistfulness and hope, yet it maintains a unified brilliant sound.

Mason Summit’s music evokes an earlier, more glorious time in pop and rock music. It was a time when generations of young people sought out the sounds specific to their own emotional diaries. These were the ears that kept college and alternative radio thriving. In an era where most young people seem hell bent on being part of a group rather than an individual, the songs of Mason Summit are a breath of fresh air. Actually, they are more like a zephyr… the most comforting aspect of which is that golden future still ahead for the artist who wrote them. - Parcbench

The cover photo of an adorable teenage boy wielding a beautiful acoustic guitar and the skinniest jeans (or/and skinniest legs) ever invented seems like it could be a fake photo taken by some middle-aged band trying to represent something or another about youth, ambtion, and beauty. But when you listen to this music, despite the glossy production and mature musical sensibilities (that bounce from sunshine pop to bouncy rock to coffehouse angst to jazzy Bread-like production pop) it’s obvious that this is the product of a fresh, young talent who doesn’t yet know he’s not supposed to believe he can try and succeed with every idea he has. Summit avoids, but doesn’t reject, the gloriously worst aspects of teenage poetry, and most of his lyrics balance sincerity and cleverness like a circus juggler. If black skinny jeans will help me write songs this good I’m about to suck in my gut and going for it. - Roctober Reviews

Los Angeles pop-rock is returning with a vengeance. Matthew Szlachetka’s recent Waits for a Storm conjures Jackson Browne and Bob Welch, and Mason Summit’s second self-produced album suggests Brian Wilson’s Pet Sounds era, alongside the ‘80s East Coast work of Chris Stamey. That’s heady company for a 19 year old, but Summit’s something of a prodigy (and a prolific one, at that), laying down electric and acoustic guitars, bass and organ alongside an impressive assemblage that includes producer John McDuffie’s pedal and lap steel, Zander Schloss’ bass, Lynn Coulter and Shawn Nourse’s drums and Carl Byron’s keyboards.

Summit’s got a sweet voice whose high, keening notes may remind you of another aficionado of L.A pop, the Explorers Club’s Jason Brewer; when Summit double-tracks himself, it may remind you of Elliot Smith. Again, impressive company, but unlike most teenagers, Summit’s deeply schooled in a broad range of music and sufficiently self-reflective to have something to say. Brian Wilson had to think back on his teen years from his early 20s, but Summit’s in the thick of puzzling out relationships, developing political ideals and sorting through newly discovered passions. He writes in an authentic teenaged voice that’s sincere and surprisingly polysyllabic. - Hyperbolium

The teen years are tough enough without family tragedy, so this son of actor Christopher Allport must have had an especially hard time. Allport died in an avalanche when Summit was 11, which lead the youngster into music. Now 17, he wrote these songs over the last three years, and they're a testament to how his record collection helped him cope. "Absentee" traces his path from Green Day to Elliott Smith, and the title track, about his father's death, jumps from bossa nova verse to garage-rock chorus, its awkwardness appropriate for the subject matter. "I don't know what I want," he sings on the Dylanesque closer "Drain," showing remarkable self-awareness. "But I sure do hope I find it." - M Music & Musicians Magazine

Heartsick naivete meets melodic and lyrical sophistication head-on on the debut release of this young SoCal singer/songwriter. The fresh sounding blend of youth and savvy present here generates a charm that works throughout the set and may very well inspire covers as well as airplay as word gets out about an artist worthy of notice. Check out "What We'll Become", "Fools in April" and "Answer Me". - Roots Music Report