I was on holiday in Seattle in June 1999. In a record shop I flicked at a copy of No Depression, with Old 97's on the cover. They'd had nothing released in the UK and so, curious, I went over to the racks and picked up 'Fight Songs'. I didn't get to hear it until I returned home - which meant I foolishly not to go and see Old 97's playing in Seattle the night I bought the album. Because what a corker it is. Once I became aware of the 'the old stuff is much better' argument that seems to beset the band, I bought all the other albums, too. And this shines head and shoulders above them. Instead of the scuffed, adequate y'awlternative of those first few records, 'Fight Songs' is a delightful excursion into country-inflected pop. Those who argue otherwise are, presumably, embittered - as so many Wilco fans were - by 'their' band refusing to stay in the box that had been designated for them (we've all been guilty of this - I felt that way about The Smiths when they started breaking when I was a teenager - and we are all wrong to do so). There can be no other explanation for the ire directed at this record. It doesn't sound like the Eagles, it's not bland, it's not a sell-out (it doesn't sound like a chart album). It's just not a badly-produced hoedown record. It is, in fact, a crisp, clear statement of pop intent, with several wholly delightful songs ('A Murder Or A Heart Attack' being just the crispest, cleanest and catchiest) given terrific arrangements and a great production job. To read the knockers, you'd think Rhett Miller had started ripping off Poison. Dear God, fellas, get over it. Why encourage your heroes to wallow in mediocrity just so no-one else gets to like them?