Adult Mom - Driver ⅘
Somewhere in summer, down a dusty road twilight has fallen and the need to illuminate the dusk with music has arisen. Songs to paint a good feeling into the corners of a still night.
Touches of Americana, but with a lifting, lilting tone. Whispering down country roads navigated by google maps on a smartphone, the feel of the traditional, hand in hand with the very now-ness of the 21st century.
Looking out the trees are fully green again but sparsely spaced, it just accentuates the openness that surrounds the car, you retreat back into the album that’s flowing from the front seats into the space where you’re stretched out.
Honesty and longing, self aware yet innocent, pained but carefree, this car journey is arduous but still rings with bad jokes and tall tales, confessions and little white lies that disguise a harsher truth not ready to be hatched.
A hand out of the window to feel the cool but dry air pass between your fingers, a sense of motion now on a featur
eless highway, the soothing throb from the bass on the stereo resonates through your body to your toes, the music feels custom made for this moment. You make a mental note to look out some old tapes when you get home, First Aid Kit, Throwing Muses, even that Alanis Morrissette cassette from the 90’s that you had to buy again because you wore the first one out.
The strum of acoustic guitars eases out the tension from your shoulders, it's a relaxing touch, the music has been the exact fit for the journey which is now coming to an end.
You’re dropped off at the door bag in hand, hugs, kisses have been given but you dip your head back through the open window.
‘What’s that name of that album, it was lovely?”