The Greatest
Trop Rock, Coastal Country, Reggae Band
You'll NEVER Know.

The Music

Click an album cover to play.

The Soundside Sessions

01. Turn Your Back on the World 4:37
02. Truth Takes It's Sweet Time 2:59
03. Salt in the Sand 4:47
04. Landlocked 3:58
05. Livin' Like Travis McGee 4:14
06. Lookout Lullaby 4:33
07. They're All Called Summer 4:01
08. Island Mile 3:47
09. Dancin' on a Sandbar 3:31
10. Crazy was the Right Kind 3:39
11. Borderline Insane 2:54
12. Bringing Home... Home 4:03
13. Drift Away (Goodbye Jimmy) 3:32

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The Lore

when the Drytiders hit, it’s trop rock, coastal Americana, and reggae... messy, loud, and just right.

They say the Drytiders weren’t planned. No flyers, no auditions — just four guys who found each other on the Carolina coast.

They say Echo Thatch started it, barefoot with a ukulele and a voice people remembered the next morning. They say Mad Max plugged in one night and never left, grinning through solos that bent songs sideways. They say Doc showed up in a blazer with a bass and a glass of scotch, and turned out to be the anchor they didn’t know they needed. And they say Skipper, the old Parrothead, sat down behind the kit and told them, “I’ll keep you honest.”

That’s the story, anyway. But really, nobody really knows how it happened.

Echo Thatch

Vocals, Rhythm Guitar, Uke

Echo came from inland, though no one agrees where. A direct descendant of Blackbeard himself. He drifted from docks to open mics, sleeping in his truck, chasing the next crowd. Quiet offstage, magnetic on it, he has a way of turning strangers into a chorus. His songs feel like postcards that somehow end up in everyone else’s pocket.

Max "Mad Max" Jones

Lead Guitar

Max is Florida or Georgia, depending who’s talking. The kid who cut class but never missed a jam, he learned to play half a step behind, all instinct and grin. His solos wander like he’s lost at sea, but he always finds the shoreline just in time. People swear his chaos is the secret glue.

Donny “Doc” Mayer

Bass Guitar

An economist by trade, Doc looks more like a professor than a bassist. Broad-shouldered, bespectacled, and usually with a drink nearby, he can turn bar talk into lectures on Hemingway or markets without missing a beat. His basslines are patient and deliberate, the anchor that makes the rest of the chaos work.

Tim "Skip" Womack

Drums

Skipper’s been on the coast longer than anyone remembers. He kept time for bar bands from Myrtle down to Key West, never flashy but always steady. He’s full of Buffett stories that shift with the beer count, but nobody doubts he was there. Gruff, stubborn, and steady as the tide, he’s the beat that holds the Drytiders together.

The Truth

Echo Thatch & the Drytiders don’t exist, except on silicon. The singing and the playing are done by machines. But the lyrics are all me. It is a fake band built to sing a true gratitude. The songs are honest, and the love that shaped them is real.

Branden Espinoza

I am a father, a husband, sometimes a sailor, and occasionally an office man. I cannot sing, cannot play worth a darn, and I dance like a corpse. But I can write, and so I do.

An Open Letter

To the Ones Doing It for Real, From Someone Who Isn't:

All that salt and sunshine and barefoot guitar playing of trop rock and coastal americana, it's easy to laugh at and dismiss, I guess, if you've never needed it. But if you have, if you've ever been neck-deep in life and heard the right song at the right time, then you know too well it's not just boat drinks and beach jokes.

Sometimes this music is the only thing that keeps a man from going under.

Buffett knew it. Kenny did too. And so do the fellas still out there hauling gear into salt-lick bars from Ocracoke to Corpus Christi, tuning up for three sets with a smile and a verse that cuts deeper than it lets on.

That kind of music, the kind that meets people in the dark and hands them a little light, it's not a gimmick. It's a service. It's soul work.

I don't play well and don't sing worth a darn, but I can write. And this made-up band of mine, Echo Thatch & the Drytiders, it's my way of tipping the hat. A crooked little thank-you note to the ones who showed me that even music about beach bars and boat shoes can carry the weight of the world, if you let it.

You don't do it for applause. And God knows you don't do it for the money. You do it because somebody out there needs saving. And you gave them a song instead of a sermon. That's holy work, far as I'm concerned.

To all of you artists who've carried the real weight, this isn't about pretending I'm part of your tradition. It's about honoring your tradition. You write the songs that save people. This little project is just me saying: I noticed, and I'm grateful.

– Branden Espinoza

Updates

September 19, 2025

The website is officially live! We're thrilled to share our music and stories with all of you from our little corner of Broad Creek. Pour yourself a drink, kick back, and let the tide roll in. More news coming soon.

The Greatest Trop Rock, Coastal Country, Reggae BandYou'll NEVER Know.