Scott H. Biram – The Dirty Old One Man Band

At first listen, Scott H. Biram sounds like the kind of guy who makes blues music for white trash. Coming on like Mojo Nixon with an ass pocket full of R.L. Burnside-brand whiskey, he doesn’t pay homage to the Mississippi Delta so much as stomp through it in a stained wife-beater T-shirt. It’s pretty clear we’re not dealing with Lyle Lovett from the decidedly uncereberal song titles, which include “CB Transmissions” and “BBQ Commercial”.

Sure enough, those looking for clever wordplay won’t find it in tracks such as the double-distorted “Whiskey”, which finds Biram hollering “C’mon baby get your shit, let’s go/Feel that funky beat, shake your fat ass.” Still, if you live in a rusted-out Airstream and wear a John Deere trucker hat with no irony, The Dirty Old One Man Band will place highly on your 2005 Top 10 list.

The first half of Biram’s fourth album (and first for Bloodshot) is loaded with the kind of wild-eyed blues explosions that spark 4 a.m. stabbings at bathtub-gin joints. Forget subtlety; this is a one-man band making a good case that everything sounds better fed through a distortion pedal.

But just when you think the Austin shit-disturber aspires to nothing more than outraunching Howlin’ Wolf, he starts throwing curves. Biram’s old-school-country cover of “Muleskinner Blues” is destined for a jukebox in hillbilly heaven, and “Truck Driver” is a blistering bluegrass fireball.

Ultimately, though, it’s the singer’s badassness that makes The Dirty Old One Man Band essential listening. How badass is he? In May 2003 he survived a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler, and a month later was raising hell on Austin stages in a wheelchair. Biram is clearly devoted to his brand of deconstructed white-trash blues, so let’s forgive him for sounding like a man who needs to be committed.