Dave and I are not prolific bloggers. We both have jobs, significant others, other interests. (For me, it’s mainly baseball.) As such, we don’t always have time to listen immediately when we receive songs in our inbox. This isn’t meant to offend the sending party; it’s just that we’re both busy.
With that said, there are foolproof ways to get yourself not talked about by either of us. I don’t care if your song is the best thing ever written, if it’s called “Git Ur Fuk On,” we’re not going to listen. If it’s the Illo “Fuk Harder” Mix of “Git Ur Fuk On,” we’re even less likely to listen.
This isn’t because we don’t like to get our respective fucks on, it’s just that we’re adults, so we like to spell properly, and the truth is, you haven’t really read our blog if that’s what you’re sending us.
With that, we’re moving on to the music…
It’s the summer of 1996. I’m wearing my uniform: lacrosse shorts with a button down shirt and a white hat from Colgate University, which I’ve ripped the letters out of so it says “Olga.” (I’m mad creative, and am unaware that the very hat I love has become a pejorative.) My friends and I, we’re all just learning to drive, speeding our way north and south on 390, winding our way into the city to buy 40s from the careless corner store clerks. We’re sunburned and happy to play volleyball at the beach.
And I can’t stop listening to Driver Eight. It’s my soundtrack. Fuck “The Distance” and “Trigger Happy Jack.” While those are good songs, there’s nothing better to my 17-year-old self than this slice of indie Americana rock.
Today, when I go looking to see what happened to the guys from Driver Eight, I come up almost completely empty. It seems that Watermelon was the only album they ever released – on Tooth & Nail or anywhere else. The album has only been rated five times on Amazon – 4 five-star ratings and 1 three-star. It’s all very mysterious, and I still love it like I’m about to start 12th grade all over again.
Driver Eight – Cheers (mp3)
Driver Eight – Brown Paper Bag (mp3)
Driver Eight – Sunbittern (mp3)