The Bad Testament

DELUXE LP ON ORANGE AND BLACK SWIRL VINYL - SOLD OUT!!!

LP includes download card with bonus tracks. CD includes bonus EP Lost on the River.

The Bad Testament lands somewhere west of the Old Testament and south of an AA handbook. It’s a record of hard-grinding lost love, blues and deep, dark Americana.

Full Description

With the heart of a genuine Texas bluesman, the head (banging) of a Zappa and Lemmy disciple, and boots resting in the dust outside of town at sunrise, Scott H. Biram journeys through the harrowing human condition like no one else. The Bad Testament lands somewhere west of the Old Testament and south of an AA handbook.

Scott H. Biram conjured the words and music for The Bad Testament during mad alchemical sessions at his homemade studio in Austin, TX. Through stacks of amps, spools of cable, and a prodigious collection of microphones, he spread his technical wings wide, while never losing the immediacy honed from a life on the road. He added a drum kit and rustic vocal duet to his skill set (which already includes all guitars, bass, keyboards, vocals, and percussion on the album).

“Righteous Ways” and “Still Around,” mellower, but no less determined, sound right out of the Folkways canon. Speaking to eternities and charlatans, Biram’s freewheelin’ with an edgy take on the Newport Folk vibe. With its surprisingly melancholy organ and in the back of the pocket tattered soul, “Crippled & Crazy,” recalls The Band. The haunting harmonica-soaked ballad “Long Old Time” is a chilling taste of existential desolation, “It’s gonna be a long old time/ before I pay for the crime that I done.”

Fear not, though, Biram is still The Dirty Old One Man Band. His brand of unvarnished and unhinged aggro-roots remains as exciting as ever. “Trainwrecker” blasts down the two-laner with the breathless fervor of a redneck metal “(I’m Not Your) Stepping Stone.” Try NOT singing along in the best Nordic Doom Metal voice we all carry around buried within our darker selves. He’s downright blunt on the R-rated Boomhauer TX rant “Swift Driftin’”: “It takes a real piece of shit to be a real piece of shit/ You should really just be headed on your way.” Yet the stark acoustic guitar country blues is updated and self-aware - a profane reboot of personal heroes Leadbelly and Mississippi Fred McDowell. The instrumental “Hit the River” is a throw the devil horns slide guitar boogie right in that sweet Biram groove. And. It. Will. Not. Let. Go. It’s short, not-so-sweet, and leaves you panting for more.

Scott H Biram is THE one-man band. The master of the realm. Why? Because even though he’s one man, he ain’t one thing.

Short Description

With the battle for America’s soul being fought, there can be no better artist to listen to at the moment than Scott H. Biram. Nobody sings about the dichotomy of the soul and raging demons better than him.

— Louder Than War (UK)
Scott H. Biram lives in the modern United States, but his songs come straight out of the old weird America. They are full of sinners and separated lovers, dubious preachers and committed drinkers.

— WNYC
Biram is a filthy peacock in full bloom on this record, kicking ass and not even bothering to take names.

— PopMatters
"Red Wine" is the kind of drinking song that could've been written any time in the last 45 years.

— Exclaim (Canada)
Rural as hell, urban in attitude, lonesome/orn'ry/mean, The Bad Testament is a primer in sin and redemption, hard love gone wrong, and blues and country influences pushed to nasty extremes.

— Austin Chronicle
His messy, raw records swirl together outlaw country, blues, Americana, soul, and rock 'n' roll, and his new record, The Bad Testament, is all over the place in the best kind of way.

— Noisey
Songs like ["Red Wine"] ensure Biram’s place at the table among country’s best songsmiths—despite his fondness for heavy metal distortion. It’s his willingness to mix the two that puts Biram on a level all his own.

— Texas Monthly
Biram evokes the haunted bluesmen and country singers of the past, singing as a man out of options and trapped by his bad decisions…He sings from somewhere near rock bottom, while menacing blasts of harmonica and metallic strums of electric guitar hurtle onward.

— Rolling Stone