A lesser act might be intimidated by the challenges, but not Scott H. Biram. In 2003, his car was crushed in a head-on collision with a semi; a month later, he played a club gig in a wheelchair, an IV dangling from his arm. It's emblematic of Biram's dirty, kicked-in-the-gut-and-dragged-from-a-dumpster blues. His voice is properly whiskey-and-cigarette scarred, a bedraggled but not beaten instrument with punk intensity and timeless porch blues gruffness. He's a performer with caustic self-deprecating wit and a wild glint in his eye. With Reese McHenry. —Chris Parker