John R. Miller’s The Great Unknowing glows in the margins

The Great Unknowing continues that pattern: a nonchalant record built on steadiness, clarity, and a lived‑in humility that comes with years on the road and steeping himself in a tradition baked into every track. Recorded at the legendary Church Studio in Tulsa, OK, the album lives up to the rock history echoing throughout the famed recording studio.

There’s a gentleness to The Great Unknowing that makes it almost too easy to overlook. It doesn’t demand attention; it rewards it. You can let it play for an hour and feel like you’ve been sitting on a porch somewhere, watching the day pass without urgency. Like Miller sings on “Day Drinking”, “somethin’ for now, somethin’ for later on…if it’s one, it may as well be two.”

“Don’t bet on me / but don’t bet against me / I’m a wandering soul by divine decree,” he sings, and many of these songs trace his life on the road. On “Looking for a Place to Die”, he taps into the working‑man’s spirit of folk tradition, painting a bleak vignette of landscapes of people stuck in the pseudo‑stability of brick‑and‑mortar jobs in a surveillance state where “the market state defines your worth by what you got.” His years touring and returning to these places make the portrait even starker.

Another standout, “Daughter of the Night”, feels like an old folk ballad sung for centuries, replete with melancholic fiddles, threading a metaphor of temptation and addiction luring the speaker on like a beguiling lover. I did a double‑take when I saw it was written by Miller and not pulled from some old English songbook. It’s that good.

Miller’s lyricism shines throughout the record, full of self‑deprecating honesty and pockets of beautiful poetry – gems like “all the way out here, the stars look like worn‑out patchwork over floodlights,” alongside weary epiphanies like “coasting into nothing / I have become every wasted day.” It’s contrasts like that that kept me coming back.

Another strength of the record are the four covers Miller chose, equally spaced throughout the album and easily some of its best moments. “A World Away”, by Darrin Hacquard, trades the original’s spare piano for a steady drawl of guitar fuzz and layered vocals – true enough to honor the source but pushed just far enough into a new direction to strengthen it, turning his friend’s simple tune into a plodding alt‑country rock anthem. “If You Could Only See Me”, from longtime friend William Matheny, and “Golden Light”, originally recorded by the Georgia Satellites and once played by Miller and co‑producer Adam Meisterhans in their band Prison Book Club, carry that same spirit; they don’t stray far from the originals, but Miller makes them his own. On “Walk of Life”, his slowed‑down take on the Dire Straits classic and album‑closer, he lets it plod along with a lived‑in confidence that shows how well he knows the songs that shaped him – and how deftly he can give them a new edge.

There’s a lot of traveling and life lived here, and plenty of alt‑country gems that reward repeat listens. It’s been awhile since an album in this lane excited me, and Miller’s homestyle twang makes The Great Unknowing an exciting addition to the great American songbook.