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Yukon News Article
February 1992
Musician
Makes Whitehorse His Home
Mikel Miller has finally unpacked his car after seven years. As a musician,
he's been on the road constantly and having an address is a novelty for
him. "At one point I was living in Ottawa, Montreal and Vancouver all at the
same time," he says. "I was constantly touring so I had clothes in all
three spots." Miller is sitting on a barstool at the Boiler Room, where he's
just finished a Frostbite workshop on 'country music and bad attitudes.' He
sips a 7-up straight. "I'm a Yukoner now and I can take it straight up," he
says to the waitress. In fact, he's actually been here since 1979. But a
hectic touring schedule has kept him living in different locations around
Whitehorse until now. He'll be here for the next year recording an album.
"In 1987, I stopped playing in the bars. I just got tired of it. It's not a
healthy lifestyle. Financially, it was a bad move, but health-wise it's a
lot better." Now, he plays 'venue clubs.' They're still technically bars,
but since fans usually have to pay a cover charge to see him, they're not
there just to drink, he explains. He laughs when asked how he describes his
music. He lists off titles like "generically homegrown, "folky-country
style", and even "gospel", a description that sends most of the Boiler Room
regulars into fits of laughter. Miller has been playing guitar since he was
16. He grew up in a small town in southern Ontario (he refuses to say which
one) and moved to Toronto when he "discovered the big city to the south." "I
was history. I had discovered there was a world out there. I finished the
education thing but I just kept moving. Music's nice with that. It allows
you to move." He met one of his musical heroes, Townes Van Zandt, when he
first started out and still watches for his albums today. "He's a writer
from Texas - one of those people all musicians know about but the public
doesn't," he says. "I listened to all of his records in the '60s and '70s
when I was looking for a style. I still listen for when his new albums come
out." Only when Miller gets up onto the stage to strum a tune do fans notice
he's missing three fingers on his right hand. He was born that way, and
doesn't consider it a handicap, as long as nobody else does. My parents were
really good about it. They used to tell my brothers and sisters, 'Let him do
it himself.' The only time I'm handicapped is when people treat it as a
handicap. "That's the nice thing about music. Musicians don't care what you
look like. The fans don't make any judgments either. They come to hear you
play." As for the future, Miller would like the same thing every other
musician in the world wants. "To just play music and not have to take any
other work to survive," he says, matter of factly.
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