Blame It On Gravity : Old 97's : Review : Rolling Stone

Over the past 15 years, Old 97's have evolved from country-punk yahoos into master-class rock & roll songwriters. For proof, see their album opener, "The Fool," a speed-strummed joy ride that tells the story of two doomed lovers in Day-Glo detail. "He came from Phoenix in a borrowed VW Bug," sings frontman Rhett Miller, already breathless; the girl he likens to "a drug/Hallucinogenic with no hangover at all."

And yet, after some LPs focused more on popcraft than adrenaline, there's still no better band to spill your beer to. "Dance With Me" is a high-strung Tex-Mex cha-cha about a gigolo, a wayward girlfriend and her jilted lover. Even the largely acoustic "No Baby I," hot-wired with a driving oompah beat and a fierce guitar solo, is a party-starter, albeit a death-haunted one. "Strum it on a Telecaster/Sing it like a train-disaster song," sings Miller. It's a perfect mission statement from four Texans raised on the Beatles and Johnny Cash in equal measures, whose shiny melodies, and fatalistic character studies, do their forefathers proud.