Backroads is made possible by the Minnesota Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund, with money by the vote of the people November 4th, 2008.

Happy birthday to me.

I ain't where I'm supposed to be.

Stuck between the real life and dreams.

It's a problem, I suppose.

When I can't afford no shoes or clothes.

That's the Four decent wheels carry me far across these open fields.

Fuled by the fire in my soul.

Might die trying but I'm so damn close to flying.

No one really knows their time to go.

So just shoot.

From the hip.

We're all dying just to live.

So shoot.

From the hip.

We're all dying just to live.

Dying to live.

Dying to live.

I got a dollar sixty-three.

That don't really bother me.

Money's here and then it's gone.

I got two holey shoes.

And a guitar full of blues.

And a few well-worn songs.

Sit and stay awhile.

While I try so hard to make you smile.

I hope this song can set you free.

I hope you understand all the notes trapped in these aching hands and the pain that rests inside of me.

So just shoot from the hip.

We're all dying just to live.

So just shoot from the hip.

We're all dying just to live.

Dying to live.

Don't tell me the odds.

Either I succeed or I wake up next to God.

Don't tell me the odds.

Either I succeed or I wake up next to God.

Either I succeed or I wake up next to God.

Either I succeed or I wake up next to God.

Yeah, so my name is Merrill Miller.

I do like Americana folk-type stuff and I have a band kind of spread throughout Wisconsin but I'd say a good majority of the shows that I play are mostly solo shows at the moment.

Yeah so I picked up guitar when I was about 13-14 years old.

My dad had a 1949 Gibson j45 which if you don't know anything about guitar just know that is a very, very expensive guitar and when I was about 13 years old I started plinking around with it and I remember one day I was just messing around with it, broke a string, and I remember the fear that shot through my heart at that moment.

I just tucked it away and put it back under his bed where it was at.

He never said anything about it but come my 14th birthday he gave me a little $50 Johnson acoustic as my first guitar and I think it was even before my birthday but you know was an early birthday present so that's why what I learned on.

And I grew up in Mississippi so I grew up around a lot of three chord country, bluegrass, blues, honky-tonk type stuff and so as soon as I learned three chords my dad would take me down to these little barn circles in the middle of nowhere and we'd play Friday, Saturday night starting at 6-7 p.m., it was like a little potluck, and we'd be out there until about 1- 2 o'clock in the morning every weekend and so that's where really where I learned how to play guitar.

So grew up in church playing lead guitar electric and fast forward to 2021, I believe it was, and I had been working in finance, I had just taken a new job and I found out that the guy had basically hired me to yell at me in front of clients and blame all of his mistakes on me and so I said thanks, no thanks, I'm going home, and got in my car and I left.

It is a 90 mile commute so about an hour and a half I got about two miles into that 90-mile commute and my engine, without warning, just exploded and I ended up getting home but for the next three months I had no job, no car, and nowhere to go because it was middle of winter in Wisconsin.

And so I was plinking around on my guitar as I was doing and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with life and I said well I've been a guitarist for at that point for about 15 years, why not try to write music and make a go at it worst thing that I can do is fail and I can check that off of saying well that didn't work and move on to something else, and that's when I started writing music and yeah that's where I'm at now.

I was only 18 when I first left home no kind of plan and nowhere to go.

I made my way up the interstate My Ford got stolen and so I was driving a Chevrolet.

When I lost a wheel about 12am hadn't made it very far just south of Memphis when along came a sheriff down old 61 he looked at me and he said now listen son, There's a long tired road ahead.

Take care of yourself lest you wind up dead.

Better yet, why don't you just go home, be with your family, instead of out here on the road.

Said I wish I could, ain't nothing there.

Daddy chose a bottle and he never really cared.

So I'm making my way, back up north.

Don't know how I'll make it but it can't be any worse.

Well we fixed the wheel and I was on my way.

Things were uneventful until the break a day when the starter died in Illinois.

The man who fixed it said now listen boy.

There's a long, tired road ahead.

Take care yourself lest you wind up dead.

Why don't you just go home, be with your family instead of out here on the road.

I wish I could, life doesn't happen like you think it should.

I wish I could, life doesn't happen like you think it should.

Yeah so being in Mississippi, I grew up in Greenville, Mississippi, which is kind of the heart of the delta blues, and again I didn't really go to many live music events there, it was mostly my dad and I going into these little barn circles, be in a place very similar to this somebody's pole barn or like shed or something like that.

There would be anywhere from half a dozen to three dozen people and we'd all be sitting in a circle together and we'd just go right on down the line and you know they'd say A Good-Hearted Woman, the key of A, and we'd all start playing and that one song which wouldn't you know the original song is maybe two-three minutes could possibly take six-seven minutes because he'd be like Jerry on the slide and he'd take a solo and then he'd pass it to the harmonica player who'd play, pass it to the fiddle, and so on and so forth.

I was born in Wisconsin, raised there until I was about six, and then I grew up in Mississippi and then came back up when I was 18.

And being in Milwaukee, I spent the last four years in Milwaukee, and they have a really eclectic music scene which is really cool.

They have a pretty solid like punk-indie scene which is also really cool, I grew up on a lot of that as well.

But coming up to Duluth that's really interesting because like there are people, not that people in Milwaukee didn't listen, but there are people who will more attentively listen to somebody you know playing guitar off in the corner or something like that, whereas with my experience in Milwaukee, again I had an overall a positive experience, but you know you walk into a coffee shop somebody with an acoustic guitar is in the background, they're just kind of in the background, and the goal from the owners whenever I would play those types of shows would always be, you know, just kind of provide ambience not necessarily a show.

And so you know I was just playing a show out at a brewery last night and I'm getting a little bit or I'm getting over a little bit of congestion and so I wasn't sure if well I wasn't 100% but I wasn't even sure it's like okay like I feel well enough to play, I'm not bad enough to cancel, but you know I'm not going to push 100% and so it was kind of one of those things where I was like all right I'm gonna you know push myself more to the background per se and stuff like that but there were probably, you know, 9-10 people, it was a kind of slow night, but the 9 or 10 people that were there I would look up occasionally and they'd all be sitting there looking at me and like afterwards they would come up and like hey I really like that one song about this and whatever and so I think that's a very interesting kind of dynamic with the Duluth area is people are very kind of intentional when they see live music which is really cool.

Hold the line.

You can bend but don't you break.

All you do is give, all they do is take.

No you never cry, never bear your soul, and this burden you carry it's more than I can know.

[Music] You're never alone, you're never alone.

You trust me with your life but never with your soul.

Never let us in.

To keep yourself from harm oh you lock the doors, pull the curtains closed.

Though you don't believe me you're not in this alone.

So you never speak cuz you might appear too weak.

So again you rise to stand just to prove you're a real man.

All the pills they help you sleep but the demons still haunt your dreams.

So you keep the bottle close but know you are never alone.

You're never alone You're never alone Oh hold the line, you can bend but don't you break.

All you do is give, all they do is take.

No you never cry, never bear your soul, and this burden you carry it's more than I can know.

Been a really cool experience so far.

Growing up I was more of an introverted shy type of kid and, you know, never really spoke up or did anything like that and it was interesting because growing up, you know I had kind of a rough childhood, and there were a lot of things that I just dealt with and so being up on stage it's very interesting and again being an introvert, a shy kid, you know you'd think that I would get stage fright which isn't the case oddly enough.

I really enjoy getting up and you know performing for people.

But when people tell me that a certain song resonated with them or something of that sort it always, you know, strikes me because you know my faith and music have helped me through a lot of those tumultuous times and everything of that sort and so for somebody to tell me hey, you know, that song really resonated with me is really meaningful because it's like okay like I wrote this song for myself, again my songwriting process was more journalistic in nature, but over the years it slowly started to kind of switch to like okay I went through this experience, I survived this experience.

I want to create something that'll help somebody through a similar experience and make it to the other side and so it's always, you know, just really encouraging anytime somebody you know is able to make that connection or shares, you know, what they got out of that music or that song.

I grew up on whiskey and communion wine.

Always tell the truth but I know how to lie.

You know I ask forgiveness in all my wayward prayers.

I grew up a saint but I grew up in sin and you know I do my best to not let temptation win.

But you know that come Friday I feel like I'm the Man in Black.

I'm a little bit of Jesus and a bit of Johnny Cash.

I'm my mother's dying wish and my father's regret.

Try to move past but it hasn't happened yet and it pisses me off in my drunken despair Sitting in church with a hazy mind I can clearly see the answer but I choose to go blind.

You know that come Sunday I feel like I'm the Man in Black.

I'm a little bit of Jesus and a bit of Johnny Cash.

Oh, oh how I cry.

Oh, oh how I try.

Oh to do what is right.

I'm a little bit of Jesus, and a bit of Johnny Cash.

I wake up on Monday with a pounding head.

I pray for forgiveness, say I'll never drink again.

I know that God hears me cuz I can hear him laugh.

I'm a little bit of Jesus and a bit of Johnny Cash.

I moved up to Duluth like I said about a year ago to join a different band and I had actually at that point been looking to move down to Nashville, more south.

I jokingly say that the reason was because Milwaukee last year broke the number of consecutive days for days over like 94 degrees with a high of like 117 or something crazy like that, and I was like why do I live in a place that's -40 in the winter and 117 in the summer this is stupid.

And having grown up in Mississippi I was like well I'll just go back down south, go to Nashville, and that obviously didn't end up working out and I got a call, moved up to Duluth and you know they're like do you want to come on up to Duluth and I was like I wasn't really planning on it but we'll give it a shot why not, and didn't really expect too much of it but I will say it's been a lot more welcoming.

People in the best way are aggressively friendly and so people are always like oh you should link up with this other guy so and so and you know and the musical community there has been great just you know interacting with people, talking with people.

So I got to Duluth on a Monday, I played an open mic on a Wednesday, and I got a message from somebody with zero mutual connections on Facebook and they said hey I really like your music, I see that you're in town, do you want to play a show this Sunday.

I was like how do you know who I am, how do you know that I'm even in town, and long story short I played that show, it was a little charity fundraiser, and that's how I got my, you know, normal job now.

I am Native American.

Mohican, Stockbridge-Munsee Band of Mohicans.

It's been an interesting journey with that because I have a cousin who is also a musician, his name is Bill Miller, and he has three Grammys I think, and I don't necessarily actively tout that when I'm like booking shows and stuff like that because I don't want to be oh Bill's cousin, you know, I want to make my own music and kind of make my own way.

But it is funny because you know how many Native American musicians are there with the last name Miller in the midwest.

I played a show in a tiny little town in Wisconsin called Wonewoc, with a population of like 600 people, at a wine bar and this wine bar is a very, very small place, they have like maybe you know a dozen, dozen and a half chairs, and the place was packed.

There were probably about two, two and a half dozen people that had showed up, and some of them had seen me at another show or had seen that I was playing with a friend of theirs from the area and they wanted to see me and they weren't able to make it.

But there were other people who they saw my name on the poster and you know they saw I have little logos and stuff like that, they saw the logos and they're like, do you think he's related to Bill?

He smelled of old leather and cigarette smoke and I hung on every word that he spoke.

A man of the earth but a man of who cursed sometimes at night when he prayed.

He raised me rough, but he raised me right.

He taught me to cherish this He told me to make my mama proud and be the type of man that folks want around.

Don't go chasing high hemmed skirts.

Don't be afraid of a little dirt.

Don't get caught up by past regrets.

These were the lessons I learned from dad.

These are the lessons I learned from dad.

He taught me how to drive in my '93 Ford.

With a 4.0 and 5 speed on the floor.

He wrote his sermons and smoked cigarettes.

These are the memories I have of dad.

These are the memories I have of dad.

I know we weren't close but I I wish we were, and I'd give anything to have you back on earth.

I know that you're smiling and I shouldn't be sad.

You were far from perfect but you were still my dad.

Yeah you were far from perfect but you were still my dad.

Well I've had my share of broken hearts and plenty of nights closing down the bars.

But I always find my way back to God again guess there's something I learned from dad.

Yeah, there's something I learned from dad.

Backroads is made possible by the Minnesota Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund with money by the vote of the people, November 4th, 2008.