Michael Hurley Walks Among Us

You can just go out and catch an artist of Hurley’s stature at the odd farmers market, just like any scrappy local songwriter.

Michael Hurley (Jason Cohen)

You can’t see Bob Dylan at The Bitter End, Sonny Rollins at the Village Vanguard, or Patti Smith at CBGB. But if you live in Oregon, you can see Michael Hurley, well, just about anywhere.

A genuine original and folk-blues giant—some say he invented “freak folk”—Hurley made his first album for Folkways in 1964, and put out his latest, The Time of the Foxgloves, just in time for his 80th birthday at the end of 2021. The Portland restaurant Sweedeedee—which is, not coincidentally, next to Mississippi Records—is named for one of his songs. And while his gigs have not been near as frequent during the COVID-19 pandemic, it’s been an incredible fact of Portland music life that you can just go out and catch an artist of Hurley’s stature at the Laurelthirst Pub or Scappoose’s Rosebud Cafe (both bars at which he’s had regular monthly gigs), at various places around Astoria (where he lives), and even the odd farmers market, just like any scrappy local songwriter.

WW emailed a few people who know and love him—fans, friends, collaborators, fellow musicians—to talk about the man and what makes him sui generis.

Guitarist, songwriter and Laurelthirst Pub co-owner Lewi Longmire may also be Hurley’s most frequent local accompanist.

As a songwriter, I think it’s his ability to really draw you into HIS WORLD. Like, there’s a separate dimension he’s seeing into. They’re not characters in songs, they’re his pals. He’s bringing us missives from a different universe. As a guitarist, he’s brilliant. So incredibly fluid, and some of the best phrasing this side of Willie Nelson or Frank Sinatra. The unconventional timing in his music is because (to hear him tell it) when music first grabbed him, he thought he was a bluesman.

Eric Isaacson owns Mississippi Records, another of Hurley’s second homes.

How many 80-year-olds do you know of who write songs as good as the ones they wrote in their 20s and 30s? And he performs these songs in all kinds of unconventional settings. Going to the vegan grocery to pick up some lab-created meat stick? There’s Michael playing in Aisle 3. Gonna fly a kite in a park? There he is again, playing in the gazebo. Your neighbor’s yard? The record store? A tiny bar? A breakfast restaurant? He’s everywhere you want to be.

Spencer Tweedy has covered Hurley’s “Slurf Song” with his brother, Sammy, and his father, Wilco frontman Jeff.

My dad played Have Moicy! for me when I was probably a preteen. “Slurf Song” made a huge impression on me with its humor, its courage to talk about shitting, but also with the sweetness of the delivery, the acoustic guitar. I loved “Sweet Lucy” too. I loved the economy of the record. Michael accomplishes so much with a simple folk band arsenal.

If you follow local singer-songwriter Jeffrey Silverstein on Twitter, you know how big a Hurley fan he is.

Living in New York, I’d only get to see him once a year at Union Pool whenever he’d make the trip. When I first moved to Portland and realized I could walk a few blocks to his free happy hour set at Laurelthirst regularly, I knew I was in the right place.

Drummer Rachel Blumberg has also been one of Hurley’s occasional bandmates.

Playing with Michael requires a letting go. He drops beats and swirls around, and you just have to be really present, in the moment, listening and paying attention, while also letting go of your head and residing in feel. To be honest, it’s always felt like meditation to me. I love playing with him.

Spencer Tweedy

Michael’s songs are fun to sing because they’re fun songs to begin with, in general. He’s humorous but not tasteless. There’s something really serious about singing about trivial, comical stuff. Those songs can tell you as much about life as a song borne out of some sort of New York City toiling, I think. Nowadays “Automatic Slim and the Fat Boys” is my favorite. A perfect example of funny that doesn’t water down the sad. There’s a man covered in mustard and he matters a lot to you.

Jeffrey Silverstein

He’s a legend. Someone that never compromises his vision. His catalogue is deep, you’ll never see the same set twice. Perfectly imperfect music. Not aware of anyone who picks a guitar or approaches melodies like Snock [Hurley’s longtime nickname]. Appreciate how much humor he incorporates (and references to food). Hurley makes me want to stay creative at all costs.

Rachel Blumberg

I really appreciate him and know it’s very special that he is here playing all the time. People LOVE him. Yo La Tengo were asking me to get me to get him to do their yearly 8 Nights of Hannukah gig at the Bowery Ballroom in NYC. They LOVE him. And it’s really interesting to see really young people fawn over him. He IS a treasure. His music (and art) is so so very special!

Lewi Longmire

There’s a power in his personal being... something you get from Muddy Waters but maybe not a more facile or learned musician. And the man’s LIFE is his art. The music is an aspect, but there’s his cartoons, paintings, films, interviews, mix CDs, he fixes old radios and 8-track players, the CARS he drives... how the man MAKES TEA is like art.

Isaacson gets the last word.

Go to New York or Paris and you’d have to attend a sold-out show with hundreds of people waiting outside clawing to get in to catch a glimpse of this guy. Come to Portland and he’s in the water, the air and the mountains too. He’s a natural part of the landscape.

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