Jon Driver died suddenly on 28th November 2011. Jon was a wonderful individual; a loving son, husband, father and brother; and an irreplaceable friend and colleague.

This is a place for everyone who knew Jon to share our memories of him and through this to help celebrate his life.

If you would like to add a description of your memories of Jon to this blog please contact with the text you would like posted. We welcome any contribution, from short snippets to longer pieces. Please bear in mind this is a place to remember Jon and to help celebrate his life.

As well as this blog, there is also a photograph album to which friends and colleagues are most welcome to contribute. If you would like to add one or more pictures please email it/them to

26 April 2012

John Burgan

For those of us who knew Jon from his early teens, the past few months have been hard, really hard, trying to reconcile the boy we knew, the man he became and what happened in 2011. It still doesn't make sense that he has gone and probably never will, so here are some fragments, some snapshots of our friend.

Dave Brown's affectionate and highly accurate piece about him (for which thanks, Dave) focuses on the one aspect that we would all agree was so central: Jon's love, no his utter obsession for his music. Our own tastes were deeply influenced by what we had first heard echoing through the rooms of that sprawling, open-plan house at the Lawns. Jon playing the bass, practising with Malcolm, Peter and Rory in Voice, then later in the London Boys. Oh yes, what a lovely poseur he was - white jeans, black leather jacket and that pout in the mirror! And boy could he play guitar, jamming with Weird and Gilly (the latter probably that DJ from Gilberdyke). The gigs - Teardrop Explodes and some seriously dodgy punk bands at the Welly, R&B at the Uni, Johnny Thunders & Magazine at the college in Queen's Park Gardens, nervous that they wouldn't let us in on the door for looking underage.

There was another Jon - playing the cello in the school orchestra; acting in Pinter's "The Dumb Waiter"; impersonating Jon Peel for the audio tapes we would record in Malcolm's bedroom. Studying German and dissecting the NME. Riding to school together on our bikes along Hull Rd, Bricknell Avenue, Chants Ave, Spring time returning home in the pouring rain, he rode into the back of a van and broke his nose. A grimace - but he recovered with plenty TLC at home. 

Remember that look when Jon was pretending to be interested - that face he pulled when he had to suffer a bore at a party? Doodling on his notepad in lessons. Whizzing around on his moped. Drinking barley wine bought from the off-licence on the Green - there's a taste we haven't had for decades.

It's been a revelation to read the tributes here and elsewhere, particularly those from professional colleagues at the height of his brilliance. Like many, we lost touch for quite a while when we were both out of the UK - reconnected again, radio silence and then again an email out of the blue...there is still so much I could say, want to say, but there will be no more messages now.

Jon's family doted on him, and gave him all the love and support upon which he built his life's work and career. Lucy, his devoted younger sister was always there by his side, growing up together in Cottingham and she loved her older brother to bits. I can't think of Jon without thinking of the Drivers there in the background as well. They were part of him, he was part of them. Part of him lives on in his sons.

I can't say any more than this: Jon, wherever you are, peace be with you.