The first time I saw Julie Miller was at Slim's in San Francisco nine years ago. We had gotten to the club early and were having a bite to eat when her hubund Buddy, bassist Rick Plant and drummer Bryan Owings began setting up their gear around the stage.

I like to scope out the gear so maybe that's the reason I didn't notice Mrs. Miller walk onto the stage but it was like she wasn't there one minute and there the next. It seemed kind of mystical at the time though. Not in that coked up, witchy Stevie Nix way but more like a ghost or an angel.

Jeez, listen to me.

Anyway, there she was with a kitchen sized plastic trashcan. Then she started taking a tamborine, some maracas and other such implements out of an old Samsonite suit case and transferrred them into the trashcan, she'd hold it up a bit and gave it a little shake while listening intently like she was tuning the darned thing! A big stupid grin erupted on my face and stayed there the rest of the night.

I had come to hear Buddy play that fat, funky twang of his but left there soaked to the bone in the talent, spunk and spirit that his wife Julie had poured out all over us.
Listening to her tell stories and watching Buddy dote over her, it all seemed more like being in a small town churchwatching a precocious child sing for freinds and family and yes her Savior, Jesus. Joyful and sweet indeed unless you were that trashcan. She beat that sucker like a red headed stepchild.

Well my Brink brothers and sisters I am here today to share the good news that behold an album shall come forth in March and it's so good to hear Julie singing again