LITTLE AMBER BOTTLES
Out February; Loose Records

Uniting glamour, gloom and well-turned-out goth-ery, Dan and Tracee Miller stand imposingly at the helm of Blanche, Detroit's finest purveyors of dark-and-twisted timewarp Americana. Since they soared out of the city's garage-punk rubble in 2004, they've played with country queen Loretta Lynn, celebrated their 10-year wedding anniversary, Dan has delivered an impressive turn as guitarist Luther Perkins in the Johnny Cash biopic Walk The Line, and now they're about to unleash their fabulous sophomore album, Little Amber Bottles, on the world. So are they happy now? Are they bollocks.

Is the darkness in your music a reflection of the darkness in your life?

Dan: When Tracee and I first got married, everything was nice and fairly stable. But then, after a couple of years, all this sickness, death and really bad things started happening. Some of that resolved itself; our album did well, we did the Johnny Cash movie, and other nice things happened to us. You then assume you're healed and that you've dealt with everything, but you haven't - there's still a fungus growing under your life. I'm not as scared as I used to be, though - at one point I was terrified of getting out of bed in the morning, as I thought something bad was going to happen.

Are you superstitious?

Tracee: I think we both are. I was trying to show Feeny (Blanche's pedal steel guitarist) a new umbrella I knew he'd love the other day, but I couldn't open it inside the house. I like the darker side of life - it holds more meaning for me. I can't talk about ghosts, though; not because I don't believe in them, but I feel that if I do they're gonna suddenly flock around me if Dan goes out of town.

What do you dislike about the modern world?

D: When I was a kid there was a child molester in my town and he killed one of my friends, and right after that it stopped being a carefree world for me. It seems like nobody's kids play out in the front yard any more - they're all in the back yard because you never know what's lurking nearby. I think it's sad that kids can't go out and explore.

It's like how fairy tales have been cleaned up, because parents worry about their kids getting scared. But, like music, that's what was always really cool about fairy tales - the sense of danger. These days, if you embrace that danger people might think there's something sinister or wrong with you. I don't think many of our friends would want us babysitting their kids because we write sad songs, where bad things often happen.

Tracee, you paint as well as playing bass.

T: With the painting I don't really have strong ideas of what I'm going to paint before I do it. I think of the colours first - colours that make me feel safe. I'm always painting things that make me feel safe. For a while I painted and didn't show anyone my work, but then we did a show in an art gallery and I decided to hang some of my paintings up; that's when I realised people are taken aback by everything that makes me feel comfortable and happy - that was so creepy and unusual.

My work can feature anything from a painting of a rabbit to a nurse. I have a thing about nurses; my mum was sick when I was younger and I love the idea of medical care and helping. I even volunteer in a hospital. The first thing I trained for was to do with dying patients, and how to ease their transition - whether that was reading to them or playing music or singing. But recently I got a call because they wanted me to volunteer in the emergency room.

To do what? Surgery?

D: You're a seamstress, you could sew.

T: Yeah, I could take a bullet out. I could definitely sew someone up.