The Long View: Molly Miller’s Expansive Approach to Guitar

The L.A. guitarist and educator on early years with her siblings, the intuitive bond of her trio, and her latest album—featuring a transcription of her solo piece “In the End.”

Photo by Anna Azarov

I first interviewed Molly Miller for a feature in Acoustic Guitar magazine on guitar education in the August 2018 issue of Acoustic Guitar magazine. At the time, she was fresh off earning her doctorate from the University of Southern California and already balancing a full load—teaching, touring, and gigging constantly around Los Angeles. Now in her early 30s, she maintains a pace as demanding as ever. She currently teaches at USC and continues to lead her own trio while touring with singer-songwriter Jason Mraz and pop star Zayn Malik. Until 2022, she also served as chair of the guitar department at the Los Angeles College of Music, a role previously held by Adam Levy.

More recently, I caught Miller on screen again—this time as part of a triads masterclass organized by Levy in 2024. Her segment stood out for its economy and tone, and for the way she made familiar voicings sound newly alive. That same clarity comes through in her own recordings. Her latest, The Ballad of Hotspur, was tracked live over two days with longtime collaborators Jennifer Condos on bass and Jay Bellerose on drums, and draws on Western themes, open-road spaciousness, and deep rhythmic interplay.

We reconnected over Zoom to talk about her early start in a family band, the guitars that continue to shape her sound, and how the interplay between collaboration and solo work has pushed her sound in unexpected directions.

Let’s start at the beginning. I remember reading somewhere that music was a big thing in your family. What was it like growing up playing music with your siblings in Los Angeles?
It was everything. I was in a family band starting at age seven. There were five of us—ages three through eleven—and we all played together. It’s the only thing I knew growing up, and it felt kind of magical. It gave me a huge sense of purpose and community.

I was a horrible student, honestly. But I lived for band practice. I just wanted to hang with my friends and play. And around age 12 or 13, something really clicked when I started learning Jimi Hendrix. I was like, Oh my God—this is it.

What was it like being in a band with your siblings, as opposed to friends or classmates?
You’re brutally honest with your siblings. You can be kind of mean to each other! But it was also the most intense way our family bonded. I think we’re all still really close today because of that.

We had to work things out—if someone messed up, if a song wasn’t working, if we didn’t agree on how something should go. It was like a team sport, but the team was your family. That taught me so much about listening and cooperation. Even now, I still play with both of my brothers. My sister’s not playing as much, but we’re still tight. That experience never leaves you.

Playing with family must bring a kind of deep, unspoken musical understanding.
Totally. My little brother and I are both professional musicians, and playing with him just feels natural. We’ve logged more hours together than I have with anyone else. There’s a kind of blood rhythm—we just know how to move together musically. It’s pretty special.

So how did you transition from the family band to pursuing music professionally?
After my older brother went to college, the family band kind of dissolved, so I started looking for other outlets—jazz combos, honors jazz bands around L.A., rock bands with friends. I did programs at Colburn, and this one called SCSBOA—Southern California School Band and Orchestra Association.

But the real turning point was when I went to a one-week summer program at Berklee. It was all guitar players, all day, every day. Being around people who lived and breathed music the way I did—that was electrifying. I knew then I wanted to study music seriously.

You ended up going to USC for your undergrad, right?
Yeah. I had heard amazing things about the guitar program there—like, all the people doing the gigs in town came from that program. I also liked that USC had strong academics, which mattered to me too. My parents said, “If you want to go to private school, you need a scholarship.” There were five kids in the family, and we had great public schools in California. So I worked really hard and got in.

And I just kept going. I stayed for my master’s and then my doctorate. During that time, I was already teaching and gigging a lot—wedding bands, bar bands, backing artists at Hotel Cafe. I was doing four gigs a week while also teaching beginning guitar classes as a TA. By the time I finished my doctorate, I already had a full working life as a musician.

What was your doctorate in, specifically?
It’s a doctorate of musical arts in guitar performance with a jazz emphasis. My academic focus areas were music pedagogy—basically teaching and learning—music technology, and entrepreneurship. It’s funny, it felt so epic at the time, and now I can barely remember the exact program name!

Photo by Anna Azarov

Jazz is part of your background, but your work spans so many genres. How does that training shape the way you approach all the different musical situations you’re in?
I don’t think of myself as a jazz guitarist. I think of myself as a guitarist. I study jazz, I love jazz—but I also play pop, country, soul, singer-songwriter stuff. To me, it’s about having big ears and really listening. How can I serve the song? That’s the through line, whether I’m playing with Jason Mraz or Zayn or doing my own music. I try to make it as egoless as possible—just helping to tell the story. That’s where I come from.

How has supporting different kinds of artists affected your own musicianship?
It’s like going to the gym. If I only did one thing, I’d be working one muscle group and neglecting the rest. Working with different people challenges me to grow in new ways.

With Jason and Zayn, I’ve had to get better at programming pedals, using my Helix, dialing in sounds. It’s helped me refine my setup and think differently about tone. Every gig sharpens a different skill. I love doing my own thing, but playing with others definitely feeds my creativity.

You’ve also maintained a strong connection to teaching. How does that fit into your life now?
I’ve been teaching at USC for almost three years—just two days a week, which is manageable. When I go on tour, it usually lines up with spring break or fall break, so I don’t miss much. I also do online stuff with TIL (Teachable Interactive Learning), and courses with Pickup Music, and a few private students here and there.

Teaching fills me up. It’s grounding. If I’ve had too many gigs and I’m burnt out, teaching helps rebalance me. Or if there’s a student or situation that’s draining, I’ll go out and play more. It’s like a feedback loop.

Let’s talk about your recent album The Ballad of Hotspur. What inspired it, and how did it come together?
It’s kind of a cinematic, Western-inspired instrumental album. I wanted it to feel like storytelling through guitar. Some of the songs I wrote for my trio with Jennifer Condos and Jay Bellerose, and others we worked on during the pandemic, often virtually. We eventually recorded the whole thing in two days, live in the studio. I love capturing that raw, interactive energy. We wanted it to feel spontaneous and human.

How did the music evolve through the process—writing remotely, then playing live, then recording and touring?
The demos were kind of isolated, more textural. But once we got in the room together, it shifted. When you’re live, your instincts kick in. The arrangements breathe more. We played a bunch around L.A. to test things out, then went into the studio. And now we’ve been touring the music for a year, so it’s evolved even more.

Honestly, I already have almost a full new album written. The songs just keep changing as we play them. I come from the jazz tradition, where one tune can have infinite expressions. That’s how I think about my own compositions too.

Do you see Hotspur as reflecting the pandemic period in any particular way?
Emotionally, yes—some songs are tied to very specific moments or feelings. But music travels. It doesn’t stay stuck in its origin story. For me, these pieces express sadness, joy, nostalgia—all things that I still feel. So they don’t feel frozen in time.