Rhett Miller strikes a balance between his solo work and the Old 97’s
Rhett Miller can’t stop writing. He has been the lead singer for the Old 97’s for 30 years, but he also has an extensive solo catalog. In his spare time, he writes essays, fiction, and children’s books.
“Writing songs is easy,” he said in a recent video interview. “I do it almost compulsively, and I love it. But I also like flexing adjacent muscles with the other writing.”
But while he thinks of himself as a songwriter first, he also loves being onstage.
“Musically I’m not that adept, but I think I’m a good performer,” he says, “and just being together in a room with people and feeling that sense of community — especially after the past few years — is a balm in a world that is really trying to dehumanize and desensitize us.”
Miller spoke to the Globe recently ahead of two upcoming shows in Boston, a solo acoustic date at City Winery on Wednesday and with the Old 97’s at Royale Sept. 26.
Q. Do you write different stylistically for the band versus your solo albums? A. I just write songs and I try to give the band first dibs — they’re my primary employer, and I don’t want them getting upset with me later.
The only reason I’ve been making solo records the last 20 years is because the band only used a small portion of my songs. Sometimes it was because the songs weren’t good — you have to write a bunch of bad songs to get to every good song — but they also turned down songs I thought were good. So I asked their permission in 2001 to make solo records, and since then I’ve been toggling back and forth.
On the most recent solo record, “The Misfit,” I wrote most of the songs in the studio the day we recorded them, so it was a very different process and the only time I came up with songs the band had no access to.
Q. Beyond getting more songs out in the world, what do you like about making solo albums?
A. The one nice thing is I get to do whatever I want. With the band, we’re in the middle of mixing a new album and having the same arguments we’ve been having for 30 years: “Why isn’t the guitar louder?” “Because then you can’t hear the vocals.”
“Who needs to hear the vocals?” And it’s fun with each solo record to try something completely different — I did one with Black Prairie, and there was one I produced myself with guest musicians like Rosanne Cash. I’ve already got some wacky ideas for my next solo record. It’s fun because with the Old 97’s it’s all I can do to get them to go into the studio, much less go into the studio and try something insane.
Q. Does going back and forth help keep the band together too?
A. Absolutely. If I could only do one or the other, I’d be really bummed. Live, they’re such different shows.
The Old 97’s shows are fun because we play to bigger crowds, but the solo shows pay my mortgage every month. With the Old 97’s, I can’t stop and tell a story about when Dolly Parton and I compared our chin moles.
Without the solo record and shows, I would feel pretty constricted because the band is such a democracy and everyone has veto power and we share everything evenly. It’s great and those are the reasons the same four guys have stayed together for 30 years, but without this other outlet I’d have so many unused songs and I’d probably be frustrated and angry.
And when I make a solo record, it makes me appreciate my band — these cranky old Texans suddenly seem like great company.
Q. “The Mistfit” has some different sounds.
A. I put myself in producer Sam Cohen’s hands. He wanted to get me into uncomfortable territory. A few tracks prominently feature a Korg keyboard. It’s the exact model my brother bought in the early ‘80s, in the keyboards versus guitars era of rock ’n’ roll, and I remember thinking then, “This is everything that’s wrong with music.” That took me a little while to get used to.
‘When I make a solo record, it makes me appreciate my band — these cranky old Texans suddenly seem like great company.’
Q. You were depressed and even suicidal as a young teen after being bullied. How much does that stay with you and still inform your songwriting?
A. A friend once said, “Songwriters are writing one song over and over.” I’ve tried to figure out what song I’ve been writing, and I think it has to do with abandonment and the feeling of not being good enough.
When I was 14 and I came pretty close to succeeding in killing myself — that person is still me, that kid is inside me.
There’s a new Old 97’s song that talks about being glad you made it through. I thought it was like a letter to my 14-year-old self, and then I realized it’s kind of a letter to the different versions of myself throughout all the years when I’ve been very self-destructive and struggling.
I definitely feel I’m the same person at 52 as I was at 14, even if I’m not writing the same song over and over.
Q. Did sobriety change you as a songwriter and performer?
A. This week is the eighth anniversary of the last drink I had. Being sober gave me more time and made me a lot less cranky, tired, muddled. The chaos in my life sloughed off and I could just have a life that wasn’t a tornado of insanity. I don’t know that I’ll ever be a spokesperson for sobriety like Jason Isbell or Steve Earle, but I have been lucky enough to be a resource and to help friends of mine who wanted to get sober.
For people who wonder if sobriety is like a death sentence — ”Your fun is over and you just have to survive until you’re dead. Good luck.” — I’m grateful that I can be a voice of reason.