Scott H Biram's Bad Ingredients album is aptly titled. His most blues-based work, is also his most sonically dynamic and lyrically accomplished.
Demons seem loose-leashed, tempered, but no less vicious, no less snarling. Brother Biram's straight in control now and crackin' the whip.
Scott's roots grow deep and strong and his guitar work is at it's best here, concise, muscular and nimble. His stomp-box sounds like its made of basalt and iron wood. Biram's trusty '59 Gibson hollowbody has always been a weapon in his hands, throwing out dirt clods of distortion. The tone cuts like rusty jagged sharply-honed knives or touches like a dog's paw.
All that mess is refined here not only by Biram's relentless touring, but by his obvious comfort in his own studio which he uses now as an instrument, the fifth Biram if you will. Scott has never been skeered to broaden and challenge his blues/country/metal sonic palette but he's got it down to a science this round and his fans will happily line up and volunteer to take his medicine. Biram never delivers snake oil. He's 100% patent and potent.
Bad Ingredients is not sonically enhanced in any way that would not allow him to throw the same party live as he does in the studio, but Scott's a listener. As such, he can throw down his sound and reinforce it with floydian textures in the nearly epic fourth track, Victory Song or make it sound like he and his acoustic are sitting across from you on a moonlit back patio.
The slow, dirty blues of Born In Jail walks on hind legs with grace at dusk, scratching signs in the dust and spitting raw sapphire-toned leads. Biram's breakin' it down for those who came before, son.
Broke Ass tells a story you're awful gawddamn glad isn't yours, but you know when he sings, "yeah, come on down and take a look at my bad dream" that if it's Biram's, he'll somehow live through it.
Mojo Hand i'm totally diggin'. Biram likes taking chances, just as he has in past work with Black Diamond Heavies and them. Accompanied here by Austin's Walter Daniels on saxophone, this is classic Scott H Biram.
Hollerin', stompin, and gettin' nasty.
Y'all read the story behind the song right Here.
Hollerin', stompin, and gettin' nasty.
Y'all read the story behind the song right Here.
His cover of bluegrass master Bill Monroe's Memories Of You Sweetheart is plaintive and real. As it should be. Biram played in bluegrass outfits early on and it remains a powerful element of his style. The other cover here, Lightnin' Hopkins' Have You Ever Loved A Woman displays Biram's formidable and burly picking skills.
I gotta admit, Killed A Chicken Last Night is Biram 101. It's like he's covering himself, but doing it better than the original. Let that boy boogie-woogie. It's in 'im and its got to come out. Y'know, I don't think he's done an album without a chicken song or two. But he can always be trusted to put one song on the album that makes you say, "huh?" but you end up diggin' it anyway. Gotta respect that.
Black Creek Risin' is Biram's "I Asked For Water...," vs. Cool Drink of Water vs I Asked For Whiskey. Ain't a damn thing wrong with that, and that ain't sellin' nothin' short neither. It's straight up classic blues that'll make yr straightblues hatin' or lovin' pal turn and cock their head and say, "what's this?"
Hang Your head and Cry is, again, classic Biram.
A rompin' Stompin barnburner and barbeque, ya muthrs.
A rompin' Stompin barnburner and barbeque, ya muthrs.
I don't know if Scott has been listening to some Dylan/Guthrie-related junk or what, but the lyrics continue to expand upon the growth we've seen with his last three albums. Musically he shines hard. There is a serious and effortless confidence here that is at once familiar, and inspiring.
Scott H Biram is like a quality self-built dirt-floored yard shed. Filled with all the tools you love. Old Loppers and big ol' saws from your Grandpa's tool box. A couple over-size wood-handled standard screw drivers that more than do the job. Your first vice-grips. Bags of rich, deeply fertilized and loamy dirt. Stacks of sacks of chicken feed. A box of those good red shop rags. But back behind the shed? Bad luck and trouble crawls in the dark through the scrub wood and grass, a dark bird calls it's lonesome song and the hard wind howls, carrying lost voices through the live oak.
I don't believe in best anything. But if I did, Scott H Biram's Bad Ingredients would be high on that list. Biram brings what he knows, and what he knows is that you don't get many chances. So you better have a good time, break some hearts and get broke. You damn sure better take it to the stage right and full on.
Scott H Biram more than deserves your money.
Send it to him and buy all of his stuff.
I don't believe in best anything. But if I did, Scott H Biram's Bad Ingredients would be high on that list. Biram brings what he knows, and what he knows is that you don't get many chances. So you better have a good time, break some hearts and get broke. You damn sure better take it to the stage right and full on.
Scott H Biram more than deserves your money.
Send it to him and buy all of his stuff.
