Scott H. Biram is a relatively new blues-country artist who calls himself a "dirty, one-man band." Between gritty Southern gothic tales, he cusses like a trucker. We really, really like him. So we asked him some loving questions:
Citybeat: You had a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler. Tell me how you kicked its ass.
Scott H. Biram: I yanked its front axle off as it crushed my legs and arms. When all was done, my right femur was sticking out of my leg. My bone was sticking out of my arm. My foot was pretty much folded in half. My left knee was broken in several places. My colon was separated from my intestine. I don't remember any of this even though I was wide awake.
You played a gig in a wheelchair with two broken legs, a broken foot, a broken arm and a foot of intestines freshly removed from yer belly. What's so tough about that?
The show was already booked. It was cancel or play. I wanted to get the ball rolling as soon as possible. I wanted to show my fans and myself that I could do it. It probably sucked, but fuck it-I did it.
You sing about prison-ever sodomized a cellmate?
Prison songs, to me, are a good illustration of a man's sorrow and loneliness. A man alone in a cell. We've all been there. Also, old chain-gang recordings are the most honest, bottom-of-the-heart sounds I've ever heard.
You sing about the devil-ever hawked your soul for some Copenhägen?
I am almost as contradictory as the Bible itself. My songs teeter back and forth between gospel and devil rock. Just like most men's souls. I am doing the Lord's dirty work by challenging the over-sensitive, Bible-thumping types into trying to think for themselves. I am a spiritual person. I pray. But to just take organized religion's word for how we are supposed to live is the biggest sin of all. The real rules are in our hearts when we're born. If you can't follow those rules, God help you. Then again... what the fuck do I know?
You like really old-time music. Why? You got a thing for mature ladies?
Well, actually... I think of it as review material. People have not been exposed enough to the old stuff. We must review. I like raw recordings. Also, 99 percent of new music sucks a big dick.
I really, really love Shania Twain. What're your thoughts?
I'd fuck her. New country sounds like Bon Jovi to me.
Scott H. Biram plays with the Flametrick Subs and the Gore-Gons, 9 p.m. at the Casbah. $7. 619-232-4355.