Old 97’s, courtesy Jason Quigley.

Rhett Miller is damn proud of the longevity of Old 97’s. They’ve had the same four members since the band’s inception, for three decades, which is exceptional for an American rock band in this day and age. Old 97’s new album, American Primitive, is coming out just in time for the 30th anniversary of their debut LP, Hitchhike to Rhome.

The title of the new one comes from a line in a Stephen King novel, in which a critic describes the style of a painter who’d come late to his craft. Miller said it could describe his band’s style, too: Americana, but also “big dumb caveman rock.” Chatting during a video interview ahead of the album’s release and Old 97’s tour, he laughs at the idea.

“Something about it rang a bell for me because I thought, ‘that’s what we are,’” he says.

To record its 13th album, the veteran alt-county band went into the studio with zero preproduction; the first time they’d ever done so.

“We’re not meant to be perfect. In fact, I think the things that people love most about us are the imperfections,” Miller says. “[Nowadays] it’s really hard to find something that sounds imperfect, like it was performed live by people playing off of each other and responding to each other in real-time. You hear these micro decisions being made by each player in response to their bandmate, and that’s such a beautiful thing; to me, that’s the human element at work.”

Miller, bandmates Murry Hammond, Ken Bethea and Philip Peeples, and producer Tucker Martine (Neko Case, The Decemberists) wanted to capture that human element by making the record spontaneously and off the cuff.

“I felt like the fact that we’ve been together for three decades should give us a leg up on all these other bands that are still figuring it out,” Miller says. “Because we’ve got this the psychic connection between each of the members of the Old 97’s.”

During the recording sessions, they got along better than ever.

“There were fewer fights in difficult moments and awkward impasses then on any other record we’ve done,” he says.

He said he thinks the toughest part of the sessions wasn’t disagreements over the songs, but the day they had a photographer in the studio, and they all felt a little self-conscious. At least Miller did.

“As you get older, you feel a little more self-conscious about your image being captured because you took it for granted all those years that you looked cool and ‘rock and roll’ and young,” he says.

You’ll find footage of the band looking “cool and rock and roll and young” in the video for its new single, “Where the Road Goes.” Miller’s wife, Erica, had been filming the band since the two of them first linked up in 2000, and she had collected a lot of footage that she didn’t know what to do with. So this video, with its wistful, memory-oriented theme, ended up being the perfect vehicle to show off the band through the years.

“I got a little choked up watching it!” Miller says. “Each of my bandmates texted me something similar. … We’ve never been nostalgia-driven … but that video was really sweet to look back on. It made me feel really proud.”

Rhett Miller is the primary songwriter in Old 97’s, but he says the band’s distinctive sound could only come from the four members and friends playing together. When he had a song he couldn’t use for his solo album The Misfit, he took it to the band. They loved “Somebody” and transformed it into a garage rock song. Miller credits guitarist Bethea in particular for elevating the song.

“I just love Ken’s guitar riff on it,” he says. “I feel like it’s just so big and drives the whole song. … It feels like it wants to be in every movie and commercial ever made.”

Hammond, the bassist, wrote album track “By the End of the Night,” which Miller says is one of the best ones, calling it both beautiful and classic. He compares their songwriting roles in the band to those of the two songwriters in Big Star.

“He sometimes gets overlooked as a songwriter. And I think he really brought it on this record,” Miller says.

These days, if he’s not playing with Old 97’s or working on solo material, Miller is probably conducting a songwriting retreat or working on a book. He’s published both fiction and non-fiction, and is planning a “how-to” book about songwriting, based on his workshop, “Songwriting is Magic.”

“The world needs more songwriters,” he says, asserting that it’s magic, but the kind that can be learned.

Old 97’s are special, Miller says, because they work to keep alive a tradition that the culture is trying desperately to bury. He and his bandmates appreciate the compliments and prestige afforded to them, three decades in. They know they’re lucky, he says.

“We’ve all gotten to have the career we wanted. We’ve got a catalog we can be proud of,” he says. “And we still draw audiences that are really generous, loving, fun people that come together in the hundreds and sometimes thousands. It’s pretty incredible.”

Follow Rachel Alm on Twitter at @thouzenfold, on Instagram at @thousandfold, and on Bluesky at @thousandfold.bsky.social.