Scott H. Biram isn't a one-man band. He is THE one-man band Quoth he: "My music is the bastard child of Punk, Blues, Country, Hillbilly, Bluegrass, Chain Gang, Metal, and Classic Rock." But don't let that fool you. Two-man bands like the Black Keys have made a lot of noise in the past few years, but Biram's got twice the cri de couer with half the personnel. He fearlessly preachs his gospel of blues, punk, country, metal and psychobilly to his congregation of metalheads,barflies, college professors and regular dudes via a pulpit that is just a stack of amps, a '59 hollow body Gibson and a stomp board.
The Clash did Combat Rock, Biram traffics in Combat Blues. Don't be fooled by the whiskey and chicken antics, SHB has become a pre-eminent bluesman for the 21st century; when he gets locked in, when that groove is hooked, there are few better pure country blues artists out there. It's alternately hypnotic and harrowing.
Biram will still the room with haunting and sparse West Texas blues and then it upside down, into a truck driver's mosh pit, part Sam Kinison, part GWAR and part Holy Ghost. Like he sez, it might be baptism, or it might be a murder.
His singing, yodeling, growling, leering and brash preachin' and hollerin' is accompanied by sloppy riffs and licks and pounding backbeat brought forth by his amplified left foot. The remainder of this one-man band consists of an unwieldy combination of beat-up amplifiers and old microphones strung together by a tangled mess of guitar cables.
Years of compulsive touring, along with a steady diet of down and dirty blues, rock, punk, country, and hillbilly have developed Scott H. Biram's signature concoction, attracting a hefty array of fans who dig the bizarre and twisted sides of the rock and roll spectrum. His live shows unleash a Lemmy-sized metal attitude, a stomping, pulsing John Lee Hooker-channeling, and cockeyed tales of black water baptisms and murder, all while romanticizing the on-the-road lifestyle.
Scott H. Biram won't die, either. On May 11th, 2003, one month after being hit head-on by an 18-wheeler at 75 MPH, he took the stage at The Continental Club in Austin, TX in a wheel chair--I.V. still dangling from his arm. With 2 broken legs, a broken foot, a broken arm and 1 foot less of his lower intestine, Biram unleashed his trademark musical wrath. And the legend grows.