Name: Shinyribs
Start: 2025-09-28T20:00:00-05:00
Location: 200 41st Street South Birmingham AL 35222

We will maybe never know what Shinyribs is. Sometimes, it’s a sprawling multi-piece ensemble slapping the air until it grooves; sometimes he’s a somber subtle songwriter pouring poetry on the ground from a cup half full. Either way it’s always the house-party-meets-library that is, Kevin Russell.
Raised in Beaumont, TX, and Shreveport, LA — the cradle of swamp pop, Leadbelly, and bayou R&B —Russell distills those regional sounds into something both timeless and immediate, dripping from his fingers like honey, salt & fat. Think Texas Gulf Coast meets Muscle Shoals, songs carved and weaved by hand with a storyteller’s heart.
Shinyribs evolved from a solo residency Russell began under that moniker in the mid-2000s, after an incident in a Houston club, playing a private party for a group of welders where he bought a homeless woman a plate of ribs. “Her name was Roberta,” says Russell. “She was a high priestess of transistor radios and an almost forgotten music she called ‘Chilibump.’ For that plate of Ribs that night she gave me in return a name, Shinyribs and a road map to the mysterious big thicket sounds I had only heard of from old timers and time travelers.”
With Leaving Time produced by David Beck (Texan Weekend, Blue Healer), Russell parks the party bus behind the venue and sits in a lawn chair in the street lights with the bugs and a dingy moon. Joined by extraordinary bassist, arranger and co-producer, Mason Hankamer, keyboardist Jonny Keys(Uncle Lucius), drummer Dees Stribling and Mr. Beck singing gourd-like harmonies while handling multiple Instrumental touches, Leaving Time is a departure and an arrival showcase of Russell’s long evolution as a classic Texas songwriter. The songs reconnect with Russell’s literary roots, the folk and country influences that shaped his work with The Gourds, and the ever-present irreverence guiding his musical journey since his early years.
Kevin Russell - Shinyribs - invites you into his junkyard of juke, his shack of shakin’ souls, for a Sunday evening sit down, a slow sound for a sweet night. When the time is just right for Leaving, let ya mind wander into believing.
It’s Leaving Time.