“The music business is not a it is a crapshoot taking place in a septic tank balanced on the prow of the Titanic, a venal snake pit where innovation, creativity, and honest business practices are actively discouraged.” Rob Miller arrived in Chicago wanting to escape the music industry. In short order, he co-founded a trailblazing record label revered for its artist-first approach and punk take on country, roots, and so much else. Miller’s gonzo memoir follows a music fan’s odyssey through a singular account of Bloodshot Records, the Chicago scene, and thirty years as part of a community sustaining independent artists and businesses. Hilarious and hundred-proof, The Hours Are Long, But the Pay Is Low delivers a warm-hearted yet clear-eyed account of loving and living music on the edge, in the trenches, and without apologies.
This book was like nothing I’ve read before, maybe because the label Rob Miller cofounded and writes about here is like few others. As someone who is passionate about music but wouldn’t have known how to begin finding/building a career related to music, I was fascinated by Miller’s journey from bullied, music-loving kid to the Cofounder of Bloodshot Records, and I enjoyed the personal memoir portions as much as the parts about the label and music-industry work.
My musical tastes have always leaned more on the industrial side than the country side of punk, so many of the artists on Bloodshot aren’t familiar to me. For me, this made the chapters about all the various shows Miller attended — and where he built relationships with the artists he would represent — drag. Miller is also pretty disparaging about the jndustrial bands that came out of Chicago and the Midwest, which seemed unnecessary, although I’m also no fan of Al Jourgensen’s unpleasant behavior — taste is taste, but it was an important area for that scene after the first Wax Trax Records moved to Chicago and started a label, but I digress.
Miller covers the scandal related to one of his original Bloodshot cofounders straightforwardly and with clarity, which I appreciated.
For those interested in the music industry behind the scenes, especially in the last years before the internet and then beyond, this will be an informative read. If the artists on Bloodshot are your jam, you’re in for a treat. And Miller’s book also stands in its own place as a minor-celebrity-adjacent memoir and a memoir about work.
Thank you to NetGalley for an advance copy in exchange for an honest review.
Rob Miller, founder of independent, Chicago-based, insurgent country music label Bloodshot Records, kicks off this memoir with an H. L. Mencken quote, “There comes a time when every man feels the urge to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and start slitting throats”. Miller then moves on to explain why he loves music and how that love evolved over time. The quote defines Miller’s passion for acts outside the mainstream and a commitment to maintain independence in a corporate music world.
Miller found the over blown classic rock heard in Detroit of the late 70’s boring and unappealing. It wasn’t until he saw the Talking Heads perform on Saturday Night Live that he heard a unique sound and saw a performance that resonated with him. Here was a sound that was unique and new that he could relate to. He began seeking out music in independent record stores that you couldn’t find in the mall Musicland. He describes searching out “Uncontrollable Urge” by Devo and how his search for new and unique sounds took him to the punk clubs of downtown Detroit. Later in the book he takes two pages describing the primal appeal of hearing The Cramps “Human Fly” for the first time, again feeling the resonance of a one of a kind driving punk sound.
This appeal led Miller to left of the dial eclectic rock radio and opportunities as a stage and tour manager for small clubs and bands. The list of acts he heard and shows he saw bring back great memories of early 80’s independent punk bands like X, Minutemen, Naked Raygun, Black Flag and others. But when this early punk sound started to become a scene and more about projecting an image than the music Miller found himself getting burned out and moved to Chicago for a fresh start.
Working as a handy man painter he continued to listen to music and go to clubs. Hearing a unique country sound branching off from the sounds of Dwight Yoakam and Buck Owen’s he again fell upon a resonant sound built around roots country and blues played by others who had migrated to Chicago. Some very traditional like the Sundowners who had a residence in a basement Loop country music bar. Others branching off from punk like the Mekon’s John Langford’s spin off band The Waco Brothers. Miller built off of his love for unique punk sounds and put together a small group of artists that he assembled on a compilation record “For a Life of Sin”, the first Bloodshot Records release.
From here Miller relates stories of acts he found and his experiences in a growing independent music scene and how he kept Bloodshot truly independent for over 20 years.
I discovered Bloodshot with a growing interest in Alt Country and reading the pages of No Depression Magazine. Seeing one of my favorite bands, The Bottle Rockets, move to Bloodshot and reading reviews of Bloodshot releases piqued my interest and these artists began to pepper the shelves of my record and cd collection. Miller’s book reveals his philosophy toward punk and independent music that mirrors much of what I enjoy in music and what makes listening to new music an important part of my life. There is a joy in finding appealing sounds that are truly new and unique to you. Sounds that you feel you have discovered rather than being pushed on you by a mass market appeal. Miller describes this feel and the revelation of finding a community of fans who share a similar viewpoint and a sharing of their discoveries
A great book written with a mix of passion and humor.
Bought this on publication day and had finished it the day after. As a fan of Bloodshot for over 20 years, I lapped up Rob Miller’s gonzo-style memoir, with its manic pace, nostalgia-free pinpoint descriptions, and more than a few hard lessons learned with the benefit of hindsight. A surprising amount of time is given over to on-the-road cuisine, reminding me of The Good Soldier Svejk - the tale of a peripatetic violence-averse conscript on a permanent search for sustenance; band tours sound much the same. All fans of independent music and the DIY ethos will enjoy the stories recounted here with a huge dose of irony but without any trace of regret.
Book Review: The Hours Are Long, But the Pay Is Low: A Curious Life in Independent Music by Rob Miller
Rating: ★★★★☆ (4/5)
Overview Rob Miller’s The Hours Are Long, But the Pay Is Low is a candid, wryly humorous, and deeply personal memoir that chronicles his decades-long journey through the trenches of independent music. As the founder of the influential punk and experimental label Bloodshot Records, Miller offers an insider’s perspective on the DIY ethos, the struggles of sustaining an indie label, and the ever-shifting landscape of the music industry. Blending autobiography with cultural commentary, this book is both a love letter to underground music and a sobering account of its challenges.
Themes and Content Miller’s narrative is structured around pivotal moments in his career—from the label’s scrappy beginnings in 1990s Chicago to its survival amid industry upheavals. Key themes include:
DIY Ethos vs. Commercial Realities: The tension between artistic integrity and financial sustainability.
Cultural Shifts in Music: The impact of digitalization, corporate consolidation, and changing listener habits.
Community and Collaboration: The importance of grassroots networks in sustaining independent art.
The book excels in its vivid anecdotes—whether recounting chaotic tours, label drama, or encounters with legendary musicians—but it also delves into deeper reflections on labor, passion, and burnout. Miller’s voice is self-deprecating yet insightful, balancing nostalgia with clear-eyed critique.
Writing Style and Structure Miller’s prose is conversational and engaging, with a sharp wit that keeps the narrative lively. The structure is loosely chronological but frequently digresses into thematic asides, which may frustrate readers seeking a linear history. However, these tangents often yield the book’s most compelling insights. The lack of pretension is refreshing, though some passages could benefit from tighter editing.
Strengths and Weaknesses
Strengths:
Authenticity: Miller’s unfiltered perspective is both entertaining and enlightening.
Cultural Relevance: Offers valuable context for debates about art, commerce, and independence.
Emotional Resonance: Captures the highs and lows of a life devoted to music.
Weaknesses:
Structural Meandering: Some chapters feel disjointed, jumping between eras and topics.
Limited Critical Distance: While personal, the memoir occasionally misses opportunities for broader analysis.
Section Scoring Breakdown (0–5) Narrative Voice: 4.5/5 – Witty, relatable, and full of character. Historical Insight: 4/5 – Rich with firsthand details but occasionally anecdotal. Thematic Depth: 4/5 – Explores passion and precarity well, though some themes are underdeveloped. Structural Cohesion: 3/5 – Engaging but uneven in pacing and focus. Cultural Impact: 4.5/5 – A vital document for indie music enthusiasts and scholars.
Final Verdict The Hours Are Long, But the Pay Is Low is a must-read for anyone interested in the realities of independent music. Miller’s blend of humor, humility, and hard-won wisdom makes this more than just a label memoir—it’s a meditation on why art matters, even when the system stacks the odds against it. While not a flawless work, its honesty and heart more than compensate.
★★★★☆ (4/5) – A raucous, heartfelt ode to the indie music grind.
Thank you to NetGalley and the author, Rob Miller, for providing a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Rob Miller's 2025 memoir The Hours Are Long, But the Pay Is Low reveals a once-bullied, punk-rock kid who parleyed his love for unconventional music into Bloodshot Records, an independent music label that featured stick-it-to-The-Man, insurgent country/rock artists.
The book is a sardonic deep dive into how it all happened, from Miller's early teens in Detroit when he fell in love with punk and alternative music and worked his way up to managing live music productions, to his move to Chicago to escape the grind of the music industry, only to be pulled back in again, Corleone-style. We witness Miller's slow, everyday grind as he labored as a part-time painter while he and his partners transformed a "garage" label in the early-mid 90s into a (questionably) successful business venture they would eventually sell in 2021.
Miller's memoir is a skillful, snarky, somewhat non-linear reminiscence. Miller's writing style is exceedingly clever, though at times can taste a bit like too much salt on your fries. The amount of minutia is often overwhelming; it feels like every band Miller ever encountered--from Talking Heads to Butthole Surfers to every never-heard-of outfit gigging at the time--gets a sentence or two. Ditto for every two-bit bar and record shop in the sketchier parts of Detroit and Chicago. The overall effect is daunting and could trigger an everyday reader's DNF reflex. On the other hand, if you happen to be a music aficionado who can recite each original member of The Cramps without hesitation, or if you happened to live near Car City Classics or Maxwell Street Market in the 80s or 90s, there're enough Easter eggs in here to keep you in omelets for the next three decades.
Considering Miller's punk-or-die aesthetic, this approach isn't surprising. It's written the way he wanted to write it, for the people he wanted to write it for. You can like it or leave it. The Hours Are Long, But the Pay Is Low is a no apologies memoir that will rate a solid four stars from a small niche of folks, while being lucky to scrape out two or three from everyone else.
So much great writing and storytelling - how Miller came to love music, jobs at various venues, the move to open a label, Chicago, and the bands and the fans. The details in any one of these areas are enough to keep one glued to the book. His terrific dry sense of humor pops up throughout. The storytelling and the humor would be enough, but Miller also thoughtfully presents nuanced views on many aspects of music business, the importance of place, and thoroughly rallies to the side of just being a decent person. For all music fans!
A necessary twist on the often mundane music memoir genre. Chronology, cliche, and nuance out the window in favor of candor, revelry, and bizarre detours. Bitingly truthful yet sweetly endearing.
Come for the music but stay for the sensory-overloading descriptions of dingy dive bars, deafening DIY venues, greasy late-night institutions, and corner party stores.