New-Wave Energy Fuels Passions of the Old 97’s

You can’t find a more fruitful topic than love if you’re a songwriter, but you’d better be awfully talented if you’re going to devote almost all of your songs to the subject.

We’ve seen love examined from every angle and then some in pop, from the unyielding optimism of “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing” to the heartache and desperation of “Love Has No Pride.” Love hurts. Love is blue. Love is a battlefield. Love even grows where my Rosemary goes--whatever that means.

The wonder of the Old 97’s, the Texas-spawned quartet that headlined the House of Blues in West Hollywood on Monday, is that it brings a new sense of energy and imagination to this familiar turf.

In singer-songwriter Rhett Miller, you find some of the same independence and passion of the late Gram Parsons, who helped pioneer the rock ‘n’ roll honky-tonk style three decades ago.

The difference is that Parsons’ mix of country sentimentality and rock edginess was patterned after such ‘60s models as the Rolling Stones and Merle Haggard. Miller offers a more contemporary blend.

The band’s country is seasoned with the new-wave energy of the early ‘80s, when such groups as Elvis Costello & the Attractions, the Replacements and X merged classic rock with punk intensity and a strong literary edge.

Without sacrificing his own voice as a writer, Miller reflects some of the wry sophistication of Costello and the underdog battle cries of the Replacements’ Paul Westerberg, creating songs that are insightful enough to be evocative and yet spirited enough to be simply fun.

It’s a potent combination that works superbly on the latest and best album by the Old 97’s, “Satellite Rides,” and was frequently exhilarating on stage Monday.

The band played with such relentless force that it was easy at times to miss the subtleties of Miller’s wordplay, but it’s an approach he clearly favors. He sings with such tenacity that you wonder if his voice is going to last the night.

You’d like the charismatic Miller to have more opportunity to demonstrate the tenderness of such numbers as “Question,” a look at the moment of commitment in a relationship. But there is something in the whirlwind arrangements--a bit of punk, a bit of rockabilly, a lot of rock--that somehow conveys the chaos and unpredictability that accompany youthful romantic cycles.

Miller’s cohorts--guitarist Ken Bethea, bassist Murry Hammond and drummer Philip Peeples--demonstrated the teamwork and electricity of a winning Lakers fast break. Hammond even took over on lead vocals for a couple of numbers. The connection to rock’s new-wave era was underscored when X’s Exene Cervenka joined on vocals on “Four Leaf Clover.”

Even though Miller’s songs focus on relationships, he operates on a wide canvas that enables him to examine his own impulses and insecurities. In the otherwise taunting “Rollerskate Skinny,” he eventually faces his own self-doubts: “I believe in love, but it don’t believe in me.” His “Weightlessness” is a graceful, spiritually edged attempt to step away from the tensions in a relationship. And there are moments of sheer lust and humor.

The enthusiastic crowd responded strongly to the band’s constant energy, but Miller should note that it seemed especially moved when he returned for an encore with a solo rendition of “Question.” If he and the Old 97’s could incorporate a bit more of that sensitivity into the show, they might touch us even more deeply.