Pitchfork

Old 97's change their sound restlessly. Over the course of the past 10 years, they've gone from the ramshackle country of Hitchhike to Rhome and Wreck Your Life to the messier country-punk of Too Far to Care to the pristine pop of Fight Songs and Satellite Rides. What's impressive is how well the band have delivered each of their attempted styles, from Brit Invasion to power-pop to country to punk; it's professional range.

Drag It Up, however, marks the first time the band's sound has taken a step backwards. Reversing their popward trajectory, the group incorporates more country elements here. The effect is such that the album could fit at any point during their decade-long career-- were it not their weakest effort since their 1994 debut. Part of this regression can be attributed to singer and primary songwriter Rhett Miller, who seems to be losing his edge. Perhaps it has something to do with his recent marriage and fatherhood, both of which have immense personal rewards but often exert a settling effect on artists who've trafficked in damaged goods and sly sexual come-ons.

Whatever the cause, he sounds a bit neutered on Drag It Up, having clearly come to terms with his own radical impulses. Aside from "Won't Be Home", in which he throws a girl out of his car, Miller declines active agency in these songs: He doesn't do things; things simply happen to him. On "Bloomington", he describes how "a girl in pink took a sip of my drink/ And laid down next to me." She is the seducer and he the seduced: "This is love, baby, this is love/ The moment she let me, the moment she let me." Meanwhile, "Borrowed Bride", about an affair with a married woman, could be seen as a sequel to Satellite Rides' "Designs on You" if Miller didn't sing the entire thing in second person.

Bassist Murry Hammond gets the best songs-- the surf-guitar epic "Smokers" and "In the Satellite Rides a Star" (which provided their previous album's title)-- and steers the album in a decidedly C&W direction, reminiscent of the band's earlier material. But as with past albums, the secret weapon here is Ken Bethea, who rarely seems to get his due as a guitarist. Never showy, he infuses "Smokers" with its 60s-style bounce and takes vocals duties on the endearingly goofy "Coahuila".

To an extent, if Drag It Up sounds disappointing, it's mostly in relation to previous albums; it's hard not to compare these songs to "Valentine", "Book of Poems", "Busted Afternoon", or "Doreen". But with a discography this sprawling and diverse, it seems unlikely that, aside from a few initial spins, any longtime fan wouldn't reach for the Old 97's other albums before this one. Of course, it's always possible that Miller will receive a renewed burst of confidence or inspiration from here, proving this only a temporary dip in quality. But here, with the band scaling back their sound and reverting to a more comfortable form, there's also little indication they won't just peter out entirely.