Old 97's - Twelfth (LP) - Silver Vinyl

Old 97’s naming their 2020 record Twelfth feels like a wink that lands with a thud of certainty. Here is a band from Dallas that has stuck together long enough to count studio albums by the dozen, still chasing the same pulse that made Hitchhike to Rhome and Too Far to Care staples for alt country fans. Twelfth arrived on August 21, 2020 via ATO Records, and it’s the sound of a veteran group choosing energy over autopilot. You hear it right away in how tight the four core players still are, how easy it is for them to drop into a gallop and keep it there.

The credits help explain the snap. The band recorded at Sonic Ranch in Tornillo, Texas, a studio that always seems to bottle desert air, and they brought in producer and engineer Vance Powell. Powell’s fingerprints are all over the clarity here. The guitars sit bright in the pocket, the rhythm section is forward without getting boxy, and Rhett Miller’s voice rides high enough to sell the stories but never steamrolls the band’s chemistry. Ken Bethea’s guitar tone remains a calling card, a biting twang that cuts without losing warmth. Murry Hammond’s harmonies sneak in at the right moments, and Philip Peeples drives these songs with that trademark Old 97’s snap, part train beat, part power pop swing.

The songs themselves prize hooks and movement. “Turn Off the TV” was the lead single for good reason. It’s a straight shot of melody about choosing human connection over the glow of the screen, built for a shout-along chorus and a barroom crowd that knows exactly when to clap. The band rolled out a homemade video for it in the thick of lockdown, a detail that fit the song’s spirit and the moment. “The Dropouts” is even more direct, a love letter to the misfits who find their own tribe and never let go. It reads like band autobiography, but it works as a rallying cry too. “Belmont Hotel” pulls you back to Dallas with a local landmark and some widescreen nostalgia, the kind of specificity that Old 97’s have always used to make their songs feel lived in.

Across the record, Miller writes with an eye for small stakes that feel big. He is still interested in escape and devotion, awkward romances and late night compromises. When the tempo kicks up, you can hear echoes of the band’s rowdiest run, yet the edges feel cleaner. That’s not to say the bite is gone. Bethea still rips licks that flash like chrome, and Peeples finds gears that make even midtempo cuts feel kinetic. The difference is focus. Twelfth moves like a set list that was fussed over, designed to never let your attention wander for long.

What makes this one stick is the balance of pep and poise. By album twelve, a lot of bands slow down or turn inward. Old 97’s trust their reflexes. They lean into chorus after chorus, then get out clean. Powell’s mix helps the guitars ring and the kick drum thump, which means Twelfth vinyl really sings on a decent system. If you like your alt country with bite and bright guitars, this is a record that rewards a full spin. It also slots neatly with older favorites on the shelf. Fans who buy Old 97’s records online already know the trick. You drop this next to Too Far to Care and Fight Songs and you can map the whole arc in a single afternoon.

For anyone discovering them through crate-digging, the album title doubles as a handy entry point. Twelfth says, plainly, that this story is ongoing. It arrived during a year when touring shut down and connection got strange, yet the band found a way to push out songs that felt communal. Rolling Stone helped announce the album with “Turn Off the TV,” and the track played like a small antidote to the doom scroll. That sense of timing is part of its charm. It is not a grand statement, it is a reminder that simple pleasures still work.

If you’re standing in a Melbourne record store and weighing Old 97’s albums on vinyl, this one earns a spot. The writing is sharp, the band sounds alive, and the sequencing keeps the needle moving. And if you’re hunting from afar, it is easy enough to buy Old 97’s records online and add Twelfth to the pile. Alt country lifers already know the deal, but newcomers will find a lot to love here. Put it next to the earlier classics and let it spin. That reliable jolt is still there, twelve albums in, which might be the most Old 97’s thing about it.