Something's Wrong/Lost Forever
LIMITED EDITION LP AND CD ARE SOLD OUT
Biram throws down some feral, amped-up Delta blues just as easily as stone cold country weepers that'll get the girls all dewy-eyed with faith and desire, and even some heavy metal field hollers—with the emphasis on holler.
Most one-man bands are one-trick ponies. One riff, one sound, one gimmick, one bucket, whatever. Not Scott H. Biram. The man can and will throw down some feral, amped-up Delta blues just as easily as a stone cold country weeper that'll get the girls all dewy-eyed with faith and desire, or even a heavy metal field holler—with the emphasis on holler. He can and will hold an audience rapt when he sings from the bottom of his boots about what it takes to get saved and how he'll end up blowing the deal.
Austin TX's self-proclaimed Dirty Old One-Man Band's third album for Bloodshot is profane and tender, alluring and frightening, and while such intensely polarizing forces would tear a lesser man apart, Scott appears to revel in the tug of war. With his '59 Gibson hollow body, mouth harp and electrified stomp board, his muddied water gospel is sly enough to charm the devil, and the hip shake boogie irresistible enough to get the Man upstairs to come down and share a bottle of the brown with him.
Performed, recorded and produced by Scott hisself, with the notable exception of the punked-out Big Bill Broonzy tune "I Feel So Good" done with blues punk duo the Black Diamond Heavies, Something's Wrong/Lost Forever is a record rife with testifying and torment. The grungy strut of "Time Flies" and the Waylon-worthy lament of the now classic "Still Drunk, Still Crazy, Still Blue" shows that real pathos lurks beneath the brim of Scott's trucker cap, while the two-step rant of "Judgment Day" has him at his wide-eyed best. Check out the way he draws a line in piss and whiskey from the sweaty heaviness of the Delta and to dudes throwing devil horns at a metal concert in "Hard Time," or the eerie, on-his-knees lament sung with maximum distortion on Leadbelly's "Go Down Ol' Hannah." Just him and his maker.