Banditos

Look, I've got redneck in my blood.

I grew up in a household that watched TNN back when it was all reruns of Crook & Chase, monster truck rallies, and NWA Professional Wrestling. My first slow dance with a girl was to a Garth Brooks song. I have been on family vacations to Branson, Missouri. I keep a framed autographed 8x10 of Ray Stevens amongst the few collections still surviving my childhood. My family was proud to live ten minutes away from the setting of Mama's Family (as a side note, Raytown would make for a very different show today). Hee-Haw was a weekly television event. As I've gotten older, I've been able to bury most of it under years of living in major Northern cities and useless English degrees. Every so often though, an artist pops up the tears the BillyBobJoeDonBubba III up out of my soul, like a werewolf emerging on the full moon. The one bit of my redneck upbringing that I still celebrate with wholehearted pride is the music. Not this shitty auto-tuned Taylor Swift bollocks you hear on the country radio station, but that sweaty, honky tonk gutterfunk that can only come from the American South. That's Banditos; an unholy amalgamation of BuschBeer, abandoned sheds, fried Twinkies, poverty, and bacon fat gravy, with a heaping helping of dirty (and possibly illegal) sex to top it off. 

Originally from Birmingham, AL, Banditos is a group of six 20-somethings, nowadays operating out of Nashville. The members of the band first met playing in various punk and rock ‘n’ roll projects around Birmingham at D.I.Y., all-ages venues. In 2010, singer/guitarist Corey Parsons and singer/banjo player Stephen Pierce began busking around town and were soon asked to perform at their favorite local bar. Without a full band they invited friends Randy Wade (drums), Jeffrey Salter (guitar), and Mary Beth Richardson (vocals) to join them.

Salter and Wade studied together at music school learning classical/jazz techniques, while Richardson’s background was mostly singing in church choirs. After some apprehensions from Richardson about taking the stage with an unrehearsed band, a last-minute trip to New Orleans with the group (which resulted in a stolen hotel Bible inscribed with the band’s lyrics) seemed to cure a case of the cold feet. The ensuing performance was raw and electric, and an ecstatic crowd response further cemented the members’ convictions to become a full band. 

The addition of bassist Danny Vines made the group complete. With the lineup set, Banditos soon moved into a house together in Birmingham, and after repeated tours through Nashville, decided to move the band there instead, where the music scene was bigger and more diverse. The sextet has since developed their unique and airtight sound, culminated through several years of a roaddog touring schedule that has, at their count, numbered over 600 shows in the last three years.

I don't doubt that counting, because this debut LP, released on Bloodshot Records, is the kind of thing that makes you stand up and say, "I need to see these bastards live". Like any self-respecting Shoals disciples, Banditos play the sort of heavy blues Americana that sounds live even on record. You almost can't imagine the band playing any other way. Central to the group are the three great lead vocalists,  Parsons, Pierce, and Richardson. While the boys do a fine job with belting out that raw holler jump, you can't help but give a load of creepy man love to Mary Beth Richardson. This dame could take paint off a wall with the power of her voice. That primal belt of hers is the only vocal I've found worthy of comparing to Janis Joplin in over 1000 album reviews.

Before this record, I was honestly starting to worry if I'd lost the soft spot for country and blues because nothing else has been playing to my ears this year. It seems like we'd lost that raw power that makes country and blues really powerful. All I've been hearing this year from Americana artists is a bunch of weak-kneed ballads (outside the notable exception of Jimbo Mathus). Even the newest Alabama Shakes album was an hour of 'don't-give-a-fuck'. I've got nothing against Dawes, but I've got to smirk a little when someone refers to it as country. That ain't my country music. It's too refined. Too much brain. Not enough balls. Now Banditos? They've got plenty of balls. Every member of the band is focused on making the loudest noise they can. You aren't supposed to be thinking about texture or subtlety. That's not the point. The point of a song like "Old Ways" or "Still Sober (After All These Beers)" is to sing along and shake your ass.

Since the Shakes decided to go all cerebral, moody wank on their newest outing, I was really starting to fear that the werewolf wouldn't get his showing this summer. It just doesn't seem right that a new hot season could pass without some new R&B tunes to go with it. Banditos is that album. The groundhog went back into its hole without seeing shit, and the good times can begin. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go find that Ray Stevens photo.