Fans might think they know Rhett Miller by now. After all, the Old 97’s frontman has been doing this for longer than many of them have been alive. Rarely, though, has he been as personally forthcoming as on his new solo album, A Lifetime of Riding by Night. Some of that vulnerability’s a deliberate choice, made in part after teaching a songwriting course and thinking about his students’ openness. Some of it came from context. Miller had problems with his vocal chords, and he recorded the record under strain shortly before going under the knife (he’s okay now). The resulting LP’s quietness serves it well, a reflective but rarely somber look at where the singer finds himself.
The album might be personal, but it’s not an individual effort. Miller collaborated with a handful of talented songwriters, including Nicole Atkins, Caitlin Rose, and, most frequently, the Turnpike Troubadours’ Evan Felker. He left the production and the final touches of the record, even the final song selection, up to one of his closest collaborators, Old 97’s bassist Murry Hammond (himself in the midst of a slew of solo work). As both producer and multi-instrumentalist, Hammond seems to have captured Miller’s intentions well, their natural affinity playing out even as Miller was recovering.
In “Be Mine”, Miller reveals the shifting sense of identity that we go through. He considers a long relationship, from its blush-inducing start through some ups and downs, to the daily struggle of weighing the good against the bad in a personal history. He finds that he hasn’t always been what he thought he was. He considered himself an actor until he had to play it for real. He considered himself a fighter until he had a fight he didn’t need to win.
These cracks in self-understanding have only furthered growth, and as he takes stock, he comes to realize that the only request that matters is asking his partner to “be mine”, even as they’re already bonded. It’s a renewal without naivete (they’ll be “listening to the ghosts on the radio”), but it’s a deeper one made in the shade of mortality.
That track finds extra resonance with gentle piano and Faith Shippey’s bowed bass. A Lifetime of Riding by Night has a folk-rock core (a distinct change from the pop-psych of 2022’s The Misfit), but it finds broader flourishes, almost chamber-sounding at times. It fits. These lyrics are both intimate and expansive, and the arrangements and orchestration support that sensibility. “The Bells of St. Mikes” has an almost ambient track, as Miller whispers his wishes and his gratitude in a life that’s not as easy for him or those he observes as we might wish. Its specificity and its beauty both benefit from its restraint.
Miller’s vocal restraint was somewhat a result of necessity due to his vocal cord health issues. There are moments throughout the LP where he doesn’t sound like himself, coming across as a little strained and limited in range. Still, the hurt only adds to the record’s impact, and Miller certainly had the artistry to utilize his vocals to his advantage. The plea of “All Over Again” might have come off as schmaltz if he’d gone too big in the vocal, but he works Atkins’ melody perfectly, allowing him to sing earnestly without doing too much.
A Lifetime of Riding by Night isn’t an instant attention-grabber; it likely suits its titular setting. It is a deep and rewarding meditation. Miller named all his previously solo albums (except the youthful Mythologies) after either himself or an identity label. He’s been an instigator, a believer, a traveler, and more. In Lifetime, he gives the sense that he’s seeing a bigger picture than ever before, and he’s using it to explore both a life observed and the particular moment from which the observation happens. It’s a smart, tight album. Fans might not have known Rhett Miller fully, but they’ve known that this record is the sort of work to expect.