William Faulkner wrote 16 novels and innumerable short stories set in the deep South, a body of work which garnered him a Nobel Prize in 1950. Never at a loss for words (reportedly characterized by an occasionally indiscernible southern accent), the Mississippi-born writer offered profuse commentary on the social ways and means of southern culture. Indubitably among the most significant was his desire to make the invidious distinction that "some whiskeys just happen to be better than others."

Liquor wasn't too crude a subject for one of the acknowledged pillars of modern American literature-nor is it for one of the, admittedly less-acknowledged, bastions of American "white trash garage rock" Southern Culture on the Skids. Faulkner learned to drink in Mississippi, and Southern Culture "learned to dance" (albeit somewhat woozily) in the same place, as one of the songs of their newly released album, Liquored Up and Laquered Down, proudly proclaims. The same region of the United States that gave birth to Jim Beam and Jack Daniels produced Rick Miller, North Carolina native and founder of the band, who warned the crowd at the Middle East of the dangers of getting "Drunk and Lonesome (Again),": "Whenever I get liquored up, I always seem to end up in a cheap motel."

Not unlike Faulkner, Southern Culture has an appreciation for corn liquor, with Miller dedicating "King of the Mountain" to "the sellers of homegrown hillbilly liquor out of the trunk of a Chevy Cutlass." The crowd was certainly driving towards a sort of zenith of intoxication (and towards a Motel 6), with tatooed-up indie rock fans and prepped-out 20-something ladies and gents nodding their heads and quaffing brewskies in syncopation with Southern Culture's twangy guitar riffs and rapid-fire drum beats. Beer (and, one would hope, the more appropriate whiskey sours) were washing down heaping handfuls of "Banana Puddin'," a Southern Culture favorite, which some female fans obligingly flung off the stage during the performance of the band's serenade to the delectable dessert (the group is also known for slinging fried chicken off the stage during shows). Continuing in their appreciation of down home cuisine, sincere thanks were sent to the Boston Blue Ribbon Barbecue for the "best ribs and sweet potato pie I've ever had," an altruistic acknowledgement of the fact that even northerners can cook up a decent picnic spread.

The Yankee crowd's appetite for jolly low-cultured fun was certainly satiated as Southern Culture hooted and hollered their way through a set that included a raunchy rendition of "Put Your Teeth Up on the Window Sill," dedicated to an elderly couple Miller met in a trailer park who were still wild about denture-free whoopie. A libidinous "Learn to Belly Dance" in honor of their appearance at the Middle East probably recalled the band's past performances at strip clubs-blond bouffant wig-wearing Mary Huff, the group's bassist, had to turn down more than a few requests to serve as a private tutor.

Scotland is the land of Johnny Walker and White Horse, costlier and classier versions of Kentucky's alcoholic pride and joy. Southern Culture of the Skids often goes by the abbreviation "SCOTS." Coincidence? Some whiskeys may be better than others. But the SCOTS and their fans are not above (or, more accurately, below) swigging them all.

SOUTHERN CULTURE ON THE SKIDS