Escape from Wildcat Mountain

The respite at Echo Valley was much needed.  The Getaway Drivers stayed nearly a year, working on the farm and keeping out of sight.  But they were restless and needed to get back on the road.  Saying goodbyes on that spring evening was hard, but summer loomed and there was work to do and money to make.  They had lost Tom and Dan during the winter.  Tom found his one true love- a woman from Chicago who seemed to know what he was thinking before he said it.  They moved on to a quaint small town fond of troll statues and settled in a new old house with some of the dough they'd made.  Dan took up revival preaching full time, having discovered a new talent.  Steve had traded the van for a Winnebago off in town.  He fired it up and off went was was left of the gang towards Wildcat Mountain.  With Steve at the wheel, they plunged down the narrow dark highway as the sun set. As the the mountain appeared like a Mordor shadow in the star-filled sky ahead, Sheila said, "Hey, what are those lights, and did that star just, like, move?"  Little did they know what was going to happen next.    

Escape to Echo Valley

The revival was bank. No had one expected that instead of the 'Drivers playing a show, Dan would have to give the impromtu sermon of his life. Sheila and Tom had passed the collection plate around not once, but twice after the "speaking in tongues" incident. Gail and Greg finally figured out whatever they were tinkering with in the engine compartment, and near midnight The Getaway Drivers finally pulled out of Texarkana and found themselves hurtling north on I30 towards a town called Hope with a garbage bag full of cash in the back. It it wasn't long before they noticed the flashing red and blue lights in the rearview. Someone at the revival figured out they'd been taken for a hoax. Bob cursed and took another pull from the Soviet era flask Steve had given him. He flicked a switch acitivating the hydrogen carborator his cousin James had installed on their last trek north. The van lurched forward, rattling like a space shuttle on it's last flight, and the police lights receded into the night. They would hit Little Rock by 2, then Memphis, then north on 55 all the way to Echo Valley. They had a show to do and this time among some hippie friends who wouldn't mind using a little of that cash for supplies. The 'Drivers would be only to happy to oblige for a chance to hideout for a while.

Sweat, tears and speaking tongues

With each rise and fall of Dan's voice, the spiritual agitation grew, and the night wore on, hot and sweaty. The crowd pressed closer, mezmorized by the cadence and reverberations coming from the guitarist's mouth. Tom and Sheila hung toward the back, collection plates in hand, waiting to strike at the most opportune moment. Back at the van, Gail and Greg were jimmying something under the hood while Barbara listened intently, sucking hard on her smoke. Suddenly, Dan's words didn't make sense. A murmer rose through the crowd and grew to an undecipherable cacophony of speech Barbara had never heard. People wept. Hands were raised, forgiveness given, and finally the exhaused worshippers collapsed. Tom and Sheila struck with the collection plates, and Dan disappeared. As he ran up to the van with this guitar case, Barbara looked at him suspiciously: "What the HELL was THAT?" she said. "Don't ask. I don't know what it was, but let's get out of here..."

The Revival

As they walked out onto the stage, The Getaway Drivers realized that the "gig" Steve arranged was not at all what they expected. Thinking on his feet, Dan pulled a bible out of his guitar case. It was going to be a long, hot night at the revival.

EP Release So Hot, Gail Catches Fire!!!!!!!

The band takes a serious turn . . .

Dan & Barbara've been with us a year.
She-Gail for three.
The other Drivers' pedigrees trail off into the mists of time.
We just opened at the Majestic.
This is getting serious.

Thurberfest 2008!!!

Pour a hot latté down your subvocal Getaway!

Elusive stars surface...

Aha . . . here they are. None, be they however elusive, can escape the able tendrils of Blogger.

The Stars of Blizzardi Gras 2008

She-Gail-Rah is MIA.

But--regardez nos visages!!--we are not bovvered and will seek our own stardom at the next gig, which will be on MARCH 8th @ 7PM @ 622 Piper Drive!!

BLIZZARDI GRAS!!

Fling leftover cranberries at the chicken wire Fence in front of The Getaway Drivers!

OK, maybe not. We don't have chicken wire fence, and you've probably already thrown out your cranberry sauce. Nonetheless, you should heed this last call for some Tuesday night Happy Hour mirth at High Noon Saloon: we shall most certainly enjoy your company and we promise to play BOTH kinds of music.

So come join us after you shake off another Tuesday for some good music and good fun tomorrow night, after work, or after whatever it is you're doing during the day. As we mentioned last time, the High Noon crew will be serving up two for one rail drinks and special taps. If you're hungry, there's pizza at the bar and great food next door at the Brass Ring!

6:30- $5 cover - see you there!

The Getaway Drivers

Moline, IL - Oct 25, 2007

The Switchback

To Steve's surprise, Bob pulled over and handed him the wheel with a nonchalance that belied a long-perfected habit of reading the Cellist's mind.

Gail & Barbara lay snoring in the back seat, utterly worn out by the previous evening's gail-force drumathon and herculean multi-instrumentalism, respectively, not to mention the debauchery that had followed.

Ken was awake but silent, mourning the scratching and mild warping of one of his most treasured fretless basses after an unexpected moment of rage during which he'd harpooned a particularly unruly fan. He grinned suddenly in the moonlight.

Sheila was taking a turn strapped to the roof, trying to let the 80-mph night air clear her mind as she dreamed incessantly of "the most perfect song ever," and how it might be realized. She barely noticed when the car ground to a halt and the boys climbed out, shuffling in tandem towards an odd concrete building belching smoke deep in the shadows off the side of the road.

Bob and Steve stood in the isolated boiler room, sweating, and not just from the heat. A decision hung in the air, deep and dark and important, but nearly impossible to define.

Trust the Driver

everybody knows what we're looking for. take us there.

Ever Been to Darby?

a while back we were driving up the Bitterroot Valley of Montana, on the run from, or maybe, for a change, chasing after a who or a what that by now I can't place.

Bob gazed away, up into the mountains. "They'll never hear it the way we did, Stevie," and I wondered what he had heard, and wished he'd keep his eyes on the road or switch with someone.

Practice at Powers Ave

Something's wrong with Bob's leg.










The Fiddliste in a Dentyne moment.
















The Drummiste--faster than the speed of light or at least the light setting.

Thurberfest Memorabilia

The unsuspecting neighborhood.



















E-Man formulates the Master Plan.


















First order of business: Beer. Canadian. Now.




















Sean Michael Dargan
pipes
Thurberfest 2007
into official existence.


















Unable to resist the call of the pipes, hordes of Irishmen storm the stage, led by Paul Martens, Kevin Wissink & Craig Heilman.



















Larkin (including guitarist Tom Blain whose generous donation of time, sound equipment and audio engineer is now a thing of legend!) fires up the crowd with an excellent set.



















Now it's time for rock and ROLL, baby!! Madi soundchecks the drums, and...



















Gail and Ash start the beat, The Getaway Drivers take the stage, and the crowd goes WILD!!



























Barbarita & Kenworth
rip it UP.























''Keep your hotel flowers...''




















''Yeah!''


















It was a long day for The Cellist.
Thurberfest 2007 winds down with a beautiful and mesmerizing performance by our good friends & colleagues, subvocal.









That's all she wrote!