The Southern Culture On The Skids were formed in Chapel Hill (North Carolina) by Californian student Rick Miller to parody the Cramps, and that is the leitmotif of the EP Voodoo Beach Party (Lloyd Street, 1984) and the First Album (Lloyd Street, 1985), from which comes the frenzied dance that would become the signature of their concerts, Fried Chicken & Gasoline, a zany blend of Slim Harpo and Creedence Clearwater Revival. The band owes much also to horror soundtracks and surf music, as evidenced by Psycho Surfing, Demon Death, and Atom Age Trucker.

It took several years and multiple lineups before the band returned to the scene. This time, the repertoire consisted of meticulous imitations of rockabilly, country, and rhythm and blues. Miller played a strictly Sixties-style guitar, accompanied by Mary Huff’s archaic bass and Dave Hartman’s homemade percussion (ashtrays, metal sheets, …).

It took five years before anything of Miller’s could be heard again on record: the single Clyde's Lament (Moist, 1990) served as a preview for Too Much Pork For Just One Fork (Moist, 1992), recorded almost entirely in mono on a standard tape. This did not prevent Voodoo Cadillac from strutting along in the swampy stride of Creedence Clearwater Revival, Cicada Rock from paying homage once again to Slim Harpo’s boogie, the comic and bouncy Eight Piece Box from portraying provincial America, the surf instrumental Dick's Theme and New Cooter Boogie from turning their genres upside down, and the blues Stone In My Passway from enchanting as if it had risen from Robert Johnson’s grave.

Come And Get It (Giant Claw, 1991) and the EP Santo Songs (Zonter, 1992) effectively mark the end of the first period, when the band disappeared from view.

Accompanied by the singles Cockroach Blues (Sympathy, 1993) and Nakema (Sympathy, 1993), the album For Lovers Only (Safe House, 1993) burst onto the scene with undiminished verve.

Accompanied by the singles Cockroach Blues (Sympathy, 1993), Nakema (Sympathy, 1993) and Girlfight, For Lovers Only (Safe House, 1993) is a madhouse of a roots-rock album. The proceedings begin in the comic mood with the tex-mex instrumental novelty of For Lovers Only (a slowly waltzing guitar theme with operatic yodeling spoofing Ennio Morricone), matched further down the road by the twangy and swinging Fatman's Twist, by the epic surf fantasia of Sheik's Walk, and by the formidable sci-fi surf boogie of Link's Lung (the missing link between the Fleshtones and the Man Or Astroman). The instrumentals alone are worth the price of the album.
But it gets better, or least funnier, with the hilarious Chuck Berry-ian rock and roll parable of Nashville Toupee, the marching circus music of The Man That Wrestles The Bear, both worthy of the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band. The band even concocts a classic catchy refrain, Wish I Was In Love, that mimicks Everly Brothers and Tommy Roe and bubblegum and countless others. The rollicking swamp blues Barnyard Ballbuster and the grim boogie of Clyde's Lament, echoing Tom Waits and the Holy Modal Rounders, stay on the (semi)serious side of things. With the haughty voodoobilly of Biscuit Enter the spectre of Gun Club flares up.

The band that plays on the EP Peckin' Party (Feedback, 1994) and on the untitled 1994 EP (for Sympathy) retains only Miller from the original lineup, but that does not prevent songs like Kudzu Limbo and the instrumental Walleyed (on the first) as well as the frenzied country & western of Whole Lotta Things (on the second) from remaining even more faithful to the spirit of the ’50s and ’60s.

Miller, Huff, and Hartman romp with their usual joviality on Ditch Diggin' (Safe House, 1994), moving between the rowdy rhythm and blues of New Cooter Boogie and the frantic rockabilly of Chicken Shit Farmer, the garage-rock of Lordy Lordy (with the Gloria chorus), and more. While some country ballads (My House Has Wheels) earn them attention in Nashville, the album is dominated by two other menacing Creedence Clearwater Revival-style blues tracks, Too Much Pork For Just One Fork and Ditch Diggin'.

The instrumentals, for their part, become increasingly zany and driving, inspired by the surf tradition (Tunafish Every Day, Mudbuggy) but played in a punk style, culminating in the delirious rock'n'roll of Wug Out, with a Hendrix-worthy solo, and the colossal parody of Rumors Of Surf, complete with Duane Eddy-style twang, Native American-style beats, and Ennio Morricone-like backing vocals.

Not only are these records encyclopedias of popular genres, but they also overflow with irresistible riffs, solos, and melodies. They are propelled by feverish rhythms that leave no moment to catch your breath. The album was re-recorded for another studio version in January 2013.

Two versions of Tantrum (Sympathy, 1995) pave the way for Dirt Track Date (Geffen). The record may not match their earliest releases, but it introduces the band to ’50s enthusiasts, especially thanks to some polished old numbers. The funky-rap of Soul City, the steady and sinister jump blues of Greenback Fly, the romantic Tex-Mex of Make Mayan A Hawaiian, and the playful horror-blues in the Cramps style of White Trash relentlessly continue the saga of a rough-and-tumble, carefree, yet always driving sound.

Mocking the Ventures in the slack dance of the surf era on Camel Walk, Morricone soundtracks on Galley Slave, and atmospheric guitarists like Duane Eddy and Link Wray in the instrumental Skullbucket, the SCOTS complete their personal ritual of dedication to the cause: a rock that shows no regard for anything or anyone, yet is in truth a heartfelt tribute to its heroes.

The incorrigibles don’t relent even on Plastic Sweat Sweat (Geffen, 1997), a carnival of disguises (from the calypso of House Of Bamboo to the surf of Strangest Ways, including the usual subversions of country and blues traditions) that features a trio of formidable instrumental tracks: Theme From The Cheaters, Dance For Me, and Deja Varoom.

Their revival project was steeped in the sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival and Cramps, and executed according to the kitschy practice of the B52's.

Liquored Up And Lacquered Down (TVT, 2001) is a bizarre album for the SCOTS. Occasionally, they play country music and often they harmonize like a pop group. The songs are unusually restrained and sometimes heavily arranged (I Learned To Dance In Mississippi).

Pared down to a trio (drummer Dave Hartman, bassist Mary Huff, guitarist Rick Miller), the SCOTS revisited their identity card on Mojo Box (Yep Roc, 2004): psychobilly ('69 El Camino, Mojo Box), rhythm'n'blues (Doublewide, Smiley Yeah Yeah Yeah), country-rock (Where Is the Moon) and surf instrumental (The Wet Spot) shake the saloon and take no prisoners.

The covers on Countrypolitan Favorites (2007) are not particularly funny.