Take note, aspiring singer-songwriter dudes: Forget getting in touch with your inner sensitive navel, forget your Jeff Buckley cheat sheets (you'll never have the voice), forget those frat-rat Jack Johnson jams, and above all else, put down that bong. Get serious, get drunk, get evil and get the gospel blues it's only an apparent contradiction. Austinite Scott H. Biram
sins to save what's left of the singer-songwriter ethos after he's done grinding, growling and cursing it into the low-life dirt. His manic backwoods-preacher shtick might cloy if he didn't throw his whole body into it. With his right hand he thwacks an over-amped Gibson guitar, with his left he bleeds some. With his left foot he stomps some over-amped wood, with his right he just kicks your ass.