Old 97's
Too Far to Care
Elektra Records
Release Date: 1997
The
gawky quartet of Mike Mills look-alikes that call themselves Old 97's adds a much-needed dose of countrified good sense to the usually flimsy nerd-punk genre. After listening about 500 times to Too Far to Care, I couldn't decide whether I should laugh, cry, or do the Texas two-step. I decided to try all three.
These four Texas natives aren't just a bunch of city kids out for a good yodel in the sticks. They recorded Too Far to Care on a pecan farm, and plan to release a single with Waylon Jennings in the fall. Hell, how much more country cred do you need? But these aren't local yokels with pumpkins in their eyes. Their skewed insights on love and loss are glazed with a certain big-city skepticism that allows the band to fit comfortably with its indie-rock brethren.
On any other album, I would spend my time raving about upbeat numbers like "Four Leaf Clover" and "Timebomb," which are propelled by locomotive drums and an almost banjoesque guitar picking. But the most compelling songs here reside in that mid-tempo netherworld between sleepy ballads and adrenaline-laced sonic cocktails. "Barrier Reef," which recounts Stewart Ransom Miller's hapless attempts at barroom braggadocio, is the best of the bunch. Like "Niteclub" and "Streets of Where I'm From," it sounds like a country dance at CBGB's. Sure, these are songs that are more clip-clop than hip-hop, but Old 97's' unshakable enthusiasm and tireless wit show how piercingly original an American standard can be.
-- Chris Schwartz
schwartz@outersound.com
