You won't know Daniel Miller; you won't see him hanging around the Met Bar, and you won't read his opinions about the music industry in the trade press. But the lower-than-low profile belies one of the most pivotal figures in music of the last two decades, and this weekend he gets to curate his own series of gigs at London's Royal Festival Hall. If everything goes to plan, he'll be bringing the same series of shows, called "Mini Meltdown", to Dublin later in the year.

This year's headliners include Richie Hawtin (aka techno head, Plastikman) Krautrock-types, Faust - and, perhaps most interestingly of all, a rare performance from Pere Ubu's front-man, David Thomas. As opposed to other indie types who talk up a storm about "free creative expression", only to float their record company on the Tokyo stock exchange once they've had their first top 10 album, Miller's Mute label remains one of the very few genuinely independent labels left. So much for the spirit of 1977, as you might say to Creation boss, Alan McGee, the next time you see him walking into a shareholder meeting.

It's not as if Mute is one of those insignificant but "worthy" indie labels either; with a roster that includes Nick Cave, the gazillion-selling Depeche Mode, Sonic Youth, Erasure and Moby, there are a lot of colours on the palette. Miller started Mute because no other company would release his own 1978 single TVOD/Warm Leatherette - the latter song, which was influenced by J.G. Ballard's transgressive novel, Crash, was once famously covered by Grace Jones.

It was Basildon boys Depeche Mode who, in their journey from gauche, Essex teenagers to leather-clad, enormo-dome rockers, underwrote most of Mute's musical activities. In the normal course of things, big-selling acts like the Mode and Nick Cave would use indies like Mute as a stepping stone to a telephone number-sized, five-album deal with a major label - but 20 years on, neither shows any sign of leaving the Mute label.

While both acts could get larger advances and promotional budgets elsewhere, they remain with Miller because of his strict, non-interference musical policy. Unlike other label bosses he doesn't sit in the studio telling his bands to add a middle eight to a song, or record something a bit more "radio-friendly". He also guarantees his acts a larger percentage of royalties than other companies in a unique profit-share scheme.

"I know signing to a major label wouldn't make my life easier," says Miller, "and it certainly wouldn't help my artists. I don't enjoy working in the music industry at all. Mute's a record company designed not to work within the music industry."

Part of the payback for this modus operandum is that Miller gets to put acts like Pere Ubu's David Thomas on to the stage. The Cleveland, Ohio band, name-checked as an influence by everyone from Blur downwards (or upwards), were the prototypical art-rockers and have just had two of their albums, Dub Housing and New Picnic Time re-released.

Thomas's new solo album, Mirror Man, is a live recording of a gig from last year that featured contributions from Peter Hamill and Linda Thompson. A real, head-twist of an affair, it's an oft-fascinating glimpse into the mind of one of the most progressive composers about. Take the weird way around with Thomas; you'll be surprised at what you might find.

David Thomas's Mirror Man is on the Cooking vinyl label.