Shadow Band: Rainey Street’s Saving Grace
Photo by Karly Goodwin | @buggersnmash
YOU COULD BE FORGIVEN IF, on a Friday night, you wanted to keep as much physical distance between you and the young adult playground that is Austin’s Rainey Street as you might keep figurative distance in your mind from an ex who, while a great lover and reliable partner for a fun night out, left McDonald’s trash in their car, still wore clothes from high school, and always needed to borrow money. Sure, those were some good times, but that’s not who you are anymore—you’re older, wiser, more mature.
But don’t write off Rainey entirely. There’s still a reason to weave through squadrons of bachelorettes in pink boots and dollar-store cowboy hats, to tolerate the tanned elder frat boys dressed in their least wrinkly button-downs and on the hunt for a mate. Beyond the gauntlet of bars mere inches apart, where acoustic covers of Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” or Hozier’s “Take Me to Church” compete for dominance, away from the hustling street magicians and curbside one-man-bands, you’ll find a little oasis that will reward you for your efforts: on Friday nights at Banger’s Sausage House & Beer Garden, you can see Shadow Band play.
A thin, olive-skinned man with black hair slicked back in an effortless way that only movie stars can seem to accomplish turns up a volume knob and rips a visceral note from his shell pink Stratocaster. I feel something in my loins, both because of the intensity of the sound and his overwhelming attractiveness. Wearing a black tank top, dark denim jeans, and boots, with tattoos adorning his muscular arms, Robert Parker Jr. patrols the stage during soundcheck with a stern, searching expression, surveying something in the distance like a cowboy might contemplate the trail ahead. This only amplifies his mysterious heartthrob nature. But then I catch him flashing weird faces and making jokes to his bandmates, and it’s clear there’s a goofy nerdiness beneath the leading-man looks.
Stage left, a small Italian woman starts thumping the opening bass line to Carole King’s “I Feel the Earth Move.” When her voice erupts from the speakers like a cannon shot, I’m sure I do feel the earth move. It’s resonant and all-encompassing, impossibly large considering her size. Wearing sparkly sequin shorts, boots, a tank top, and a red bandanna, bassist and vocalist Jennifer Foster is comfortably resting between foxy disco mama and badass rancher.
Photo by Karly Goodwin | @buggersnmash
A snare pop from behind the duo of Robert and Jennifer signals the entrance of drummer Anthony Corsaro. Sporting a military flat top, sunglasses, and denim jacket, he enigmatically zags from the established 70s/Western persona, somewhat like the drummer from ZZ Top with his conspicuous lack of a beard. Yet their cohesion is also obvious: he seamlessly falls in with the band, and they roll powerfully through covers of rock, blues, soul, and psychedelia songs that weave a tapestry of their influences. Fleetwood Mac’s “Gold Dust Woman,” Grateful Dead’s “Franklin’s Tower,” Stevie Wonder’s “Living for the City,” and Albert Collins’s “Black Cat Bone” find equal footing in the setlist. Robert and Jennifer, in addition to being bandmates and trading vocal responsibilities, are also a couple, and that seems to lend an additional magic to their harmonies. Robert’s soulful vocals have just enough grit and gravel in them to drive home the bluesier songs, and they blend beautifully with Jen’s clear, sonorant power. Their originals, such as Robert’s “Sunflower” or Jennifer’s “Crazy Woman,” showcase their mastery of their influences. If you didn’t know which was an original and which was a cover, you might have a hard time telling them apart. A Shadow Band show is a bridge from past to present, reminding us why music then was so damn good, and why it’s so important that we create more of it now.
Watching them play, it would be enough to have my hair blown back by their sound. It’s loud and arresting, and their technical talent is obvious and on full display. But Shadow Band also knows when to ratchet up the showmanship.
Photo by Karly Goodwin | @buggersnmash
Mid-solo, Robert walks off the stage, away from the audience and toward the street. Unsuspecting passersby are splashed with waves of salty blues licks. He turns a corner and lingers by the sidewalk, where people point at him excitedly, as if he’s a whale they’ve spotted on a boat tour. Meanwhile, there’s confusion from the Banger’s patrons at the opposite end of the patio who haven’t realized where Robert’s gone. From where I sit, I can follow the trail of his guitar cable. With no break in the shredding, Robert casually strolls back to the audience, eyes looking down at his instrument. In one fluid motion, he steps up onto a picnic table, pulling more soaring bends from the guitar, arching his back and pursing his lips from the intensity. Wild cheers have erupted. Phones are out and rolling video. People dart their heads back and forth between Robert and their friends around them (Are you seeing this?). The rest of the band is still thundering along—the vibrations from the drums and bass seem to circle in the air around Robert as he’s become the nexus of some pentatonic maelstrom. Then, almost as quickly as it came, the storm abates—Robert backs off the table, makes an even clip toward the stage, and smoothes out into some rhythm chords as he steps back in with the band.
Under a twilight sky, with the string lights of Banger’s crisscrossing the patio, a relatively large space feels increasingly smaller as high-rises in every direction climb heavenward. I quell my hunger with a jalapeño cheddar sausage bun and quaff a Royal Blood beer. Watching the other patrons, I see the excitement in their eyes when Robert burns sonic rubber with a series of blistering notes or Jennifer climbs the vocal ladder to its highest peak. Fortunately, Shadow Band is loud enough to drown out the motorcycles and screaming and various other street noise that would otherwise seep in. My soul is reconnected to the primal, spiritual enrichment that blues and soul music provides. Here at Banger’s, Shadow Band has carved out a rock n’ roll watering hole, one I gladly cleanse myself in before venturing back into the wilderness and cacophony of another Rainey night.
