The folk music world is mourning the loss of Michael Hurley, who passed away in April, with heartfelt tributes pouring in from various quarters of the industry. Publications like Rolling Stone, Stereogum, NPR, and The New York Times memorialized him as an “eccentric” and “outsider,” highlighting his unique contributions to the music scene.
On social media, friends and fans shared more intimate reflections. Amanda Petrusich from The New Yorker remembered Hurley as “one of those singers who was so genuinely singular & idiosyncratic & pure.” Big Thief praised him for writing “some of the most heartacheingly beautiful melodies of all time.” M. C. Taylor from Hiss Golden Messenger encapsulated his essence by stating that Hurley’s music embodied “America as I like to think of it, like a Joseph Mitchell story.”
Based in Brownsmead near Astoria, Hurley spent the last few decades in Portland, a city that served as his artistic home base. He significantly contributed to the local music scene, being a foundational artist for Mississippi Records and performing regularly at the LaurelThirst, where his joyous happy hour sets became a staple. The last time I had the chance to see him perform was in December 2024, just weeks before his 83rd birthday. He captivated a filled venue for 90 minutes before personally managing his own merchandise table.
In early May, hundreds gathered at Sumner-Albina Park, directly across from Mississippi Records and SWEDEEDEE, a restaurant named after one of Hurley’s songs, to honor his life and music. The park was transformed into a celebration space, adorned with large reproductions of Hurley’s artwork, depicting whimsical characters like the mischievous beatnik wolves Jocko and Boone, and playful motifs of blueberries and cacti, all crafted by the artist himself.
Volunteers served chili, cornbread, and fresh pie, dishes that referenced Hurley’s body of work, known for capturing the essence of the appetite in his music. The air was filled with the scent of burning sage and joints, and someone had set up a Grateful Dead-style taping rig for fans. Lindsey Nevins, a tap dancer who often accompanied Hurley, reminded everyone, “We’re sad but the songs aren’t sad. We miss him. Let’s party.” And indeed, for hours, attendees celebrated, with the Croakers backing around 50 musicians who played Hurley’s beloved songs.
With a prolific career spanning over 60 years, Hurley released around 30 albums mostly through independent labels or through self-releases. He emerged from the rich Greenwich Village folk scene of the ’60s, gaining early support from notable figures like Jesse Colin Young of the Youngbloods and Folkways Records founder Moses Asch. While some may define him as a co-founder of “freak folk,” the label only scratches the surface of his artistic depth.
Nathan Salsburg, a former curator of the Alan Lomax Archive, praised Hurley’s guitar style, describing it as an intricate blend of American vernacular music that rivals the skills of iconic guitarists like Joni Mitchell and Richard Thompson. He expressed doubt that anyone would match Hurley’s consistency or unique vision in music.
Renowned rock critic Robert Christgau characterized Hurley as an “old-timey existentialist” whose distinctive voice could evoke both Jerry Garcia and John Prine. This essence resonated with me when I first heard Hurley’s song “Hog of the Forsaken” in the closing credits of a Deadwood episode. The story of a pig consuming fallen angels, combined with a catchy fiddle riff, felt timeless, leading me to assume it was an ancient folk tune. Much to my astonishment, I discovered it was an original composition by Hurley, featured on his 1976 album, Long Journey.
This album rapidly converted me into a fan. Hurley’s vast catalog revealed that I recognized several of his songs, having heard them covered by artists like Yo La Tengo, Cat Power, and Vetiver. The list of covers continues to grow, with recent noteworthy adaptations including Kassi Valazza’s “Wildegeeses,” Cass McCombs and Steve Gunn’s “Sweet Lucy,” and Espers’ “Blue Mountain.” During the pandemic, a Nashville indie band took the initiative to create a full album titled Styrofoam Winos Play Their Favorite M. Hurley Songs, which Hurley embraced, even asking for permission to sell physical copies at his performances.
Hurley’s lyrical themes are steeped in a whimsical and dreamlike universe, yet grounded in earthly narratives about food, love, nature, and the mundane. His humor shines through as well. In his playful song “Open Up (Eternal Lips),” spiritual longing is sandwiched between humor and desire, where he sings, “Well it’s just a little bit where I’m feelin’ kinda naughty / Take me to the tit of the heavenly body.” Meanwhile, “O My Stars,” a favorite at weddings, balances tender sentiments with a quirky verse about a spider’s romantic journey.
As the music world reflects on the profound legacy of Michael Hurley, it becomes evident that his artistry transcended traditional boundaries, creating a unique space for storytelling and musical exploration that resonated with a diverse array of listeners. His influence will undoubtedly continue to resonate in the melodies and hearts of those fortunate enough to experience his work.
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