A Lifetime of Riding by Night
Rhett Miller
October
10 October 2025
Rhett Miller had throat surgery last winter. More precisely, he had a cyst removed from his vocal cords. You can hear the rawness in his voice at various moments on his latest release, A Lifetime of Riding by Night. That’s intentional. Miller has said he could have re-recorded the vocals after the initial recording to smooth out the sound, but purposely decided not to.
“I was in a lot of physical pain as I was singing these songs. There are moments when you can hear me really struggling, but as much as I thought about going back and re-recording the vocals once I’d recovered, I knew those imperfections were part of the DNA of the record.” Indeed, the flaws add depth and character to the lyrics, which frequently concern hurt and pain.
Take “The Bells of St. Mike’s” a slow-paced bittersweet memory of youth that begins with a nostalgic recollection of boys in a church bathroom singing “Death can’t take a joke / we are all gonna die / so I might as well smoke.” Cigarettes may not cause Miller’s raw vocals, but they reveal the damage of age in contrast to the purity of early life. The song’s larger concerns, the push and pull of the need for others as one grows older, come across in the sound of his voice as well as in the words he sings.
This sentiment lies at the emotional foundation of A Lifetime of Riding, his tenth solo release. He lays his needs bare. The sweet sadness of the Tim Hardin-esque “Time Again” celebrates the ache he feels as a blessing and a curse. He castigates himself for his neediness on the jaunty “All For You” as he discovers he isn’t all bad. The singer-songwriter expresses this metaphorically in “People Are Lifted” as he confesses, “I don’t know what to do / I don’t know what to say.” Life may not make sense, but we all need others in our lives. That’s the singular truth of “A Little Truth”.
The title track, “A Lifetime of Riding by Night”, offers an atmospheric rendition of our isolation with a strummed acoustic guitar over a windswept soundscape. In a ragged voice, Miller opens with the line “We are the bastard sons of death and decay.” He notes we are “only all alone”. Despite this, the song has hopeful connotations. Our loneliness compels us to seek out others.
Several of the songs are co-written with luminaries, including Evan Felker (Turnpike Troubadours), Caitlin Rose, Nicole Atkins, and Jesse Valenzuela (Gin Blossoms). Their contributions are lightly felt as the album offers an intimate look at Miller’s current inventory of his inner being. This is a personal record and should be heard as one.
The final track is just Rhett Miller and his acoustic guitar. He professes he needs a “Brand New Heart”. The presumption is that his old one is cracked and falling apart. His rough vocals suggest the truth of his failings—that his heart has been broken, but there is something smug about his admission. Is he apologizing for his failings or bragging about them? This is unclear.
One’s appreciation of the album depends in large part on how one perceives Miller’s indulgences. Yes, life is unfair. We all live and die alone, suffer disappointments, and find solace in others. How responsible we are for our own happiness depends on our individual circumstances. In the final reckoning, the singer vacillates.