Shannon Shaw and drunken Santas: A winter wonderland

I’m still not sure how Muni or cable cars work, but that sure as hell didn’t stop me from following the call of Shannon Shaw like a siren. The trek to Bimbo’s 365 from the East Bay on a Thursday night is no easy one, but it was damn well worth it. Once I walked in, I felt transcended into a smoky jazz scene of the late ‘30s. It was dark and curious, faintly lit by red candles and the glow of the stage. The whole place was a winter wonderland of Christmas trees, tinsel, and drunken Santas.

The night kicked off with two openers, The She’s and Dick Stusso. They prepped the crowd with some jolly spirit to get us ready for what we had all come for. With her band poised about, Shaw walked out as cute as can be, in her signature ‘50s apron attire, but this time with a red velvet style for the holidays. She had sweet little bows in her hair to juxtapose her punk widow’s peak bangs. She and the whole band wore a jumble of jolly Santa hats and bells. Strapped with a bass that may as well have been laden in diamonds, Shaw opened with “Golden Frames,” and tears swelled in my eyes. 

If you’re unfamiliar with Shannon Shaw, she’s essentially the whimsical version of the early Gwen Stefanie: blonde and badass, with bows in her hair. Her rockabilly image could walk hand-in-hand with Johnny Depp through John Waters’ Cry Baby (1990). From the fateful moment I heard her dreamy vocals on the Shannon and the Clams song, “Ozma,” off their album Dreams in the Rat House (2013), she forever became my idol. 

Typically, Shaw is the front woman for no other than Shannon and the Clams, which is possibly the only band to seamlessly combine indie-folk, doo-wop, and punk into single albums. As of late, they’ve been occupied with opening for well-renowned bands such as The Black Keys and Greta Van Fleet (which we can forgive them for). Several of the members have also been caught up with solo projects, so I encourage everyone to catch the whole band together if given the chance. 

Shaw herself has also been occupied with her solo career aside from the Clams. In 2018, she released her first album with the help of The Black Keys’ very own frontman, Dan Aurbach. After hearing the Clams for the first time in a record store, he fell in love and took Shaw to his recording studio, Easy Eye Sound, in Nashville. Together they put out Shannon in Nashville (2018).  

Shannon in Nashville portrays agony and longing, alongside perseverance and individualism. This album is a rediscovery of the sounds of Roy Orbison with the gusto of female vocals. This album calls me to escape the “concrete jungle” and venture into the Alaskan frontier, dumping lost-cause men in the dust. The themes of the album are far gone from anything the Clams have ever put out. Their work does touch on similar themes of heartbreak, but with incomparable styles. The work of the Clams is unique to themselves and it’s clear that Shaw found no place in stealing from that. 

My heart continuously broke throughout the night, always to be tied back together with festive garland. Shaw played her most heart-wrenching numbers, like “Golden Frames,” “Coal on the Fire,” and “Cold Pillows” to make me feel as if I’ve been hurt and wronged in ways that never actually happened. But something within her womanly power she conveyed on stage simultaneously released me from that pain. 

My sole complaint of the night is that it all was too short. Considering Shaw has only produced one album thus far in her solo career, I shouldn’t have expected much more. If anything, I was just left excited for future shows when she’ll have enough content to dance all night. 

For the last number of the night, Shaw dedicated a cover of “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” to her boyfriend in the crowd. It was the perfect jingle bell on top of all the holiday magic. Just as it all was ending, one of the several drunken Santas came plunging through the crowd with what could have been no other than a glass of spiked eggnog. The whole night was a true Christmas miracle. *cue sleigh bells*

Article and photos by Natalie Gott