Michael Hurley

The enduring appeal of Michael Hurley remains a bright spot in a darkened world. That light dimmed quite bit when he passed away this year, but Snock leaves behind an enduring legacy, both in the uptick in reissues lately, and with a steady stream of new releases. Mississippi Records and Feeding Tube kept the flame alive in the 2000s, and in the last few years No Quarter took up the mantle of home to Hurley. It’s there that his last document rests, an album that should appeal to longtime fans of his weathered leather folk forms. Hurley was a singular voice; part town square truth teller, part vaudeville spell caster. His songs have an ability to ramble though grassy blues, tied up with burn pile smoke and sweet breezes, and more refined forms with ease. There’s a smell of corn leaves and crushed herbs in every tale, especially when he gets close and comfortable as he does here on “New Orleans ’61” and album opener “Junebug.”

The ensemble gets fleshed out here a bit and that stage charmer spins plates on “Indian Chiefs and Hula Girls,” swapping harmonies and smoked sax with his strums and storied yarns. Painterly patches of mourning weave through “The Abominable Snowman,” deepening Hurley’s pained yowls with violin from Halli Anderson and a sparkle of xylophone from from Nate Lumbard. That soft shoe strummer returns on “The Monkey,” another vision of the spark that never wavered in Snock’s songs. It’s nice to see him get in a duet with RSTB fave Kassi Valazza as well on a cover of the ‘50s swinger “Cherry Pie,” as well. There may well be some more dug out of the archives in the next few years, that’s always the way, but this stands as nice a final statement from Hurley as any. Like most of his works, it’s not definitive, but it’s indicative of who he was. It’s hard to get a sense of Hurley from just one album, but each puzzle piece adds a little more color to the canvas. So long old friend.

Support the artist. Buy it HERE.