People have thought of a million metaphors to represent grief to help others process: glitter, a ball and a button, butter folded in a pastry, a growing circle containing the grief. Each metaphor focuses on the everpresent nature of grief, cropping up in the small moments that person would have filled, from their shoes waiting at the door like a dog to the pour of that wine they never got to. In his second album, Losin’, Colin Miller prods at these moments of grief, takes them out of their cage to examine the impact a single person can make in another’s life. 

Through nine songs, Miller meditates on the spaces his father figure, Gary King, filled in his life, the ones that emptied when King died. In “Cadillac,” Miller reminisces on King’s love for NASCAR races and the abandoned cars he collected, a memory that now morphs with the tinted Cadillac from the funeral procession. King’s devotion to cars is a constant in Losin’, as Miller centers their relationship on the roads they drove together, watching for each other’s headlights in “Lost Again.” “Birdhouse” weaves together two moments at a bar, one with King, and one where Miller acknowledges the all-consuming depression of grief. The final song of the album “Thunder Road” pays homage to the Bruce Springsteen song of the same name, where Miller lays himself to rest in the space next to King as his “one and only living junior.” 

As Miller embarks on the UK leg of his tour supporting Losin’, the songs expand beyond the tangled tobacco field and rusting tools of King’s property. They become a new metaphor for grief, one where haunting is tied to love and not place. Grief isn’t a thing, but instead becomes part of us in the same way love is. 

‍Your two previous albums centered heavily on setting: Haw Creek in North Carolina and Losin’ in the home of a lost loved one. What places are inspiring you now?‍

I’ve been living a little outside of Asheville in a little town called Black Mountain for a few years with my sweetheart. Living there, living in a house with my partner, being out on the road so much—I suppose those have probably been the places inspiring me since I moved out of Haw Creek. 

Losin’ is a meditation on grief. Were there any representations of mourning or loss that you found especially comforting or inspiring while creating the album?

I don’t know if there was one representation that was more helpful than another. Death at Funeral (2007) was a bit of a comfort watch. I still need to watch the Chris Rock and Martin Lawerence version, I bet it’s awesome. I was listening to a lot of Willie Nelson around that time, so there’s no doubt some big influence there. 

What’s your next chapter? Might it include a third album? 

Sure does.

Your tour for Losin’ has just begun. Has performing these songs live felt healing, painful, or something else entirely?

A little bit of all that, I guess. It feels good to share those feelings with other folks. It feels like a séance sometimes. My thoughts on tour are primarily making sure the songs hit hard and that my band has what they need to play at their best. It kind of feels like making sure we can all do the same backflip and land good on our feet. There are a couple of songs I avoid because I have a hard time singing them without getting overwhelmed. 

Is being on the road good for your songwriting, or do you find yourself wanting to settle back down?

Yes and no. I’m a big homebody so touring is an ironic thing to have fashioned my life around. The beauty of traveling around is you get to meet so many amazing people and see such incredible stuff. It’s really inspiring but I find the grind of touring pretty mentally tiring. I write down little moments I don't want to forget, I take lots of pictures to help me remember, and I listen to a lot of music. Touring is better for listening than it is for writing.