Doors 7:30 | Show 8:30
In an era where most of the world is floating around on laptop computers and digital social networks, there’s still someone out there coughing chunks of salt, dirt, and gravel into a microphone, and banging out the bowels of what’s left of the seeds of man on a 1959 Gibson hollow-body guitar. These are the rusty scrapings of resin that have come from modern times having its way with old time blues, country, and bluegrass roots music and that someone is Scott H. Biram, The Dirty Old One Man Band from Austin, TX.
When you put a lethal mix of styles and genres like his together you’re just asking for a potent cocktail of auditory bliss and blasphemy. Bad Ingredients, his latest libation to hit your palate last fall on Bloodshot Records, is a 13-song happy hour guaranteed to kick your ass and leave you thirsty for more. Recorded at Scott’s home studio and mastered by the legendary Jerry Tubb of Terra Nova Mastering (Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Dwight Yoakam), Bad Ingredients delivers in both classic S.H.B. throat-stomping style and ever-evolving as a songwriter substance. Crowd pleasing tracks like “Victory Song” and “I Want My Mojo Back” force the listener to bang down their shot glasses in time to the beat, as best they can, and sing along. While “Just Another River” and “Open Road” might just find itself into your cerebellum subconsciously while you fight the late night spins and reflect on another day lost to the night. Bad Ingredients might just cure what ails you and large doses are encouraged.
What makes a Scott H. Biram show unlike anything you’ve ever experienced? His live stage performance consists of a collection of vintage guitars, a couple rock guitars wired up through a wall of beat-up, road-worn amplifiers, all accompanied by a stomp board of his own creation. The board is powered by two huge big-rig grilled subwoofers that sit directly behind him providing a powerful thump that obligates the crowd to shake their fists and their asses. His voice is driven through the slightest overdriven mics that make the vocals ride on top of his sound while blending perfectly with the rest of the instruments. Scott H. Biram is a man possessed. Why not let his dirty gospel enter your soul and join him at his First Church of the Ultimate Fanaticism? Sorry, no wine—just whiskey. Hallelujah.