''Drag It Up'' is the sixth studio album by American country/rock band Old 97's, first released on July 27, 2004 (see 2004 in music). The album's title comes from the fourth track, "Smokers".

This album sees the band return to a less-polished form than its predecessor, 2001's ''Satellite Rides''. Ken Bethea, the lead guitar player, said the following in a press release:

:"It’s hard not to compare an album with those that came before it. Drag It Up is our most personal. We recorded it on 8 tracks, which pretty much means there was very little studio trickery. What you’ll hear, or maybe I should say, what you won’t hear is second-guessing, sleight of hand or revisionist thinking. Whereas ''Too Far To Care'' was an idealistic album made for big cars and air guitars, Drag It Up is better served by thinking and driving on Sunday afternoons in the middle of nowhere. ''Fight Songs'' was urban, ''Hitchhike to Rhome'' was a giant demo and ''Satellite Rides'' was hitchhike's opposite, that is to say, for us (four hacks from Texas) a wonderful recording of near-perfect performances. Wreck Your Life was the spiritual predecessor to Drag It Up - punk rock recorded over the course of a few days in a Chicago attic. We have grown - albeit kicking and screaming - into a complex, philosophical and mortal band." (taken from old97's.com) - Wikipedia

From the first roadhouse lick with which Ken Bethea lashes into "Won't Be Home," it's clear Rhett Miller ain't never gonna front a pop band no more. Maybe the lukewarm reception of The Instigator, the perfectly adequate (adequately perfect?) solo album L.A. producer Jon Brion groomed for him in 2001, felt like a dead end. Drag It Up is the sound of three other musicians reminding those fans who granted Miller exclusive auteurship that the Old 97's are a band-and that this band isn't necessarily Miller's to front. Bethea goes two for three when he steps to the mic, though no matter how many good lines he gets off on "Coahulia," he's advised never to cross Doug Sahm and Weird Al ever again.

The band's career trajectory-from alt-country kitshickers to jangly roots-cultivators to full on power-poppers-has been diverted, and the artsong "Valium Waltz" limns the limits of their current ambition. But Miller's familiarly slight wordplay ("The problem's getting big/ And it's a compact car") and borrowed tropes (the moon reminds him of the love he lost) will charm pantsless anyone already infatuated with his quest to convince the world that great cheekbones don't ensure happiness in love-that, in fact, they ensure quite the opposite. The two best songs elaborate on themes initially treated by Glenn Frey ("The New Kid" ) and Jonathan Richman ("Friends Forever"). The latter is the story of "a bookworm on a respirator" who grew up to become a butterfly with great cheekbones who had lots of awesome sex and pined over his broken heart romantically ever after. So, um, stay in school, kids.

"From the first roadhouse lick with which Ken Bethea lashes into ""Won't Be Home,"" it's clear Rhett Miller ain't never gonna front a pop band no more. Maybe the lukewarm reception of The Instigator, the perfectly adequate (adequately perfect?) solo album L.A. producer Jon Brion groomed for him in 2001, felt like a dead end. Drag It Up is the sound of three other musicians reminding those fans who granted Miller exclusive auteurship that the Old 97's are a band-and that this band isn't necessarily Miller's to front. Bethea goes two for three when he steps to the mic, though no matter how many good lines he gets off on ""Coahulia,"" he's advised never to cross Doug Sahm and Weird Al ever again.

The band's career trajectory-from alt-country kitshickers to jangly roots-cultivators to full on power-poppers-has been diverted, and the artsong ""Valium Waltz"" limns the limits of their current ambition. But Miller's familiarly slight wordplay (""The problem's getting big/ And it's a compact car"") and borrowed tropes (the moon reminds him of the love he lost) will charm pantsless anyone already infatuated with his quest to convince the world that great cheekbones don't ensure happiness in love-that, in fact, they ensure quite the opposite. The two best songs elaborate on themes initially treated by Glenn Frey (""The New Kid"" ) and Jonathan Richman (""Friends Forever""). The latter is the story of ""a bookworm on a respirator"" who grew up to become a butterfly with great cheekbones who had lots of awesome sex and pined over his broken heart romantically ever after. So, um, stay in school, kids.

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