Pulling into Cleveland in a seven-seater tour van

I saw the Old 97s the other night, and I just have to say that they are damn good. Really damn good. It's been a few years since the last time I caught them live -- but there was a stretch there in the late '90s, early oughts, where I did things like travel to South Carolina to see them play, or stand in line at the Fez in NYC to see lead singer Rhett Miller's solo shows. So it was with great hospitality (and beer) that I welcomed them back to Cleveland, and myself back into the fold of a Bloodshot Records-like envelope of "insurgent country" obsession.

Following an immensely entertaining band called Ha Ha Tonka -- who, like Thunderbirds Are Now!, have entered my own personal Pantheon of opening acts that are impressive rather than yawn-inducing -- the Old 97s took the stage and played for more than two hours, reminding me that they are among the hardest-working bands out there. With a set list that long, they performed nearly everything I wanted to hear (with the notable exception of "Singular Girl," which I love not only because of the lyrical simile, "Talking to you girl / is like long division"). Lots off "Satellite Rides," which surprised me because I did expect a little more from the more recent "Drag It Up." But since it's ALL SO FUCKING GOOD, who cares?!?

I took a couple friends with me who are new to the Old 97s. At the conclusion of the show, one of them, Tiffany, turned to me and said in reference to notable looker Rhett Miller: "You could have warned me that he is so hot." The other friend, Chris, simply stated in the most hetero way possible, "He is one handsome son of a bitch." Guitarist Ken Bethea is looking pretty hot these days, too, in a way I've not noticed before. Perhaps it had to do with his wrinkled t-shirt that topped off his perfectly pressed yellow-green pinstriped pants, which boasted not only a perfect break but also the mark left from the hanger. They fit him perfectly, if you know what I mean, which I know you do.

Anyway. Totally not the point. But kind of the point, as it's no lie that Rhett (and, I suppose now, Ken) is not unpleasant to look at and therefore adds a certain je ne sais quoi to the Old 97s experience. But really, he's not all sweaty scruffy hair, beauty marks and s-e-x-y stage presence. His lyrics and music -- and the music he makes with Murry, Ken and Philip -- are just brilliant. Anyone who can write something like, "I believe in love / but it don't believe in me" or "And you'll try to find a doctor / who can prescribe an elixir / that will make everything better / except your late wife and her lover" is top-notch in my book. All the hotness is just a bonus.