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Somewhere among country, folk, blues, punk, and even metal exists Texas bad boy Scott H. Biram.
A cult figure for years, Biram might begin benefiting from mainstream America’s revived interest in the Americana peddled by far less salty acts such as Mumford & Sons. But where rock radio’s new rootsy bands are still easily digestible, Biram unapologetically sings, screams, and stomps about the uglier side of life.
In other words, this is sweaty, grimy stuff from the nation’s underbelly that, perhaps unfortunately for listeners, never gets within a football field’s length of the Grand Ole Opry. All the better for fans, who can catch Biram in a superintimate setting at Propaganda.
