They're not from Nashville or Austin, they're not even proper Outlaws, but Joe Ely and his excellent Texas band have spent the last five years becoming their own breed of drifters by knocking out barroom crowds in far-flung places like Manhattan and Minneapolis while waiting for their break. The unfortunate irony about Down on the Drag is that it almost chokes on its own cautious perfectionism, trying too hard to provide that break.

Chip Young, who produced Ely's two fine—and loose—previous albums, was passed over this time in favor of Bob Johnston. With Bob Dylan's Nashville Skyline and Simon and Garfunkel's Sounds of Silence to his credit, Johnston must have been somebody's idea of the perfect producer for the homespun poetry of Ely and his even abler songwriting friend, Butch Hancock. The evidence here says he's not. Though Johnston may be faulted for indulging the group in a series of monotonously grinding arrangements that probably sounded mesmerizing in saloons, the root problem seems, surprisingly enough, to be the material.

Something's wrong when the band's sit-in saxophonist, Ed Vizard, writes a love song ("B.B.Q. & Foam") that outdoes anything here by either Ely or Hancock. Especially since earlier Ely tunes (last year's country hit, "Honky Tonk Masquerade") and earlier Hancock numbers ("She Never Spoke Spanish to Me," "Boxcars") continue to make fair bids at becoming Hank Williams-type classics. Why this duo should suddenly come up short is a real mystery.

The fault sometimes lies between song and styling. Hancock's "Fools Fall in Love" makes its sad complaint in portentous lock-step rhythms that the musicians ornament with an excess of ostentatiously tasty fills from steel, slide, electric and acoustic guitars—plus accordion. Ely's "Maria" has a directness that's finally squandered on endless, draining choruses, while his voice, so spirited in funny and vigorous honky-tonkers (e.g., "Crazy Lemon"), sounds like it's been rubbed raw.

There may be a country hit among these cuts, perhaps Butch Hancock's rather automatic title track. But if Joe Ely wants to cross over to a wider audience—which he should have the talent to do without compromise—then he'd best kick back and make a record that captures both the pathos and rambunctiousness of his stage shows. (RS 289)

FRED SCHRUERS