James Yorkston über Michael Hurley:
I first heard Michael Hurley’s music in 2003 or 2004 whilst touring around the US with my pal Morgan. I’m a bit of a country music snob, so was perhaps expecting to dismiss it immediately, but the opposite happened – I loved it and spent the rest of the trip trying to buy more. A year or so later, my partner, who’d equally fallen under the Hurley spell, and I heard a rumour Hurley was playing in Glasgow, but there were no details anywhere online or off that we could find. We rang the venues we knew of, the tickets agencies… eventually we went through to Glasgow on the off chance we’d find out, but on arrival, there was zero evidence. We ended up in Monorail, where one of the staff knew me and asked what I was up to. I mentioned Hurley may be in town, and they told me that there was a table full of people in the restaurant who said they were going too, so I should ask them where it was… our first evidence Hurley was actually in town! Turns out they did, and an hour later we found ourselves in Laurie’s Bar (I think), a tiny wee mouse of a venue with an RAF target painted on the back of the wall. Michael Hurley was there, he played and he was good way beyond our already high expectations. At that stage, we only knew maybe three of his albums, so the stuff we didn’t know – I Paint A Design – for example, we were hearing for the first time. We laughed and laughed and loved that show, it was so joyous.
We ended up missing the last train and the last bus back to Edinburgh and it cost us a £100 cab fare… ouch.
A few years later, we heard he was playing again. This time, I managed to wangle the support. The venue was some glassy place in Central Glasgow, less appropriate for sure, but again, Michael was magical. I remember my partner calling out for ‚Old Black Crow‘, and Michael pretended to catch the request mid-air, before singing it acapella, just as mad live as it is on record.
A few further visits and shows – a quiet night in Letham, some underground place in Edinburgh, where he went on for hours, his bass player thumping along behind him, probably a couple I’ve forgotten…
And at somepoint, I was offered the position of support on a tour Michael was playing, but the agent could only offer me £50 a show. So, I would have lost money. Should I have done it? Maybe, but I said No Thanks.
Later on, I began my Tae Sup wi‘ a Fifer series. My (then new, now old) pal Phil Jupitus had just moved into Fife and I knew he would both be brilliant and fill the room, thus giving me the confidence to contact Michael and ask him if he fancied a trip over. He was keen, but not for one show. Between Michael Hurley and me, we put together a short list of people who could help him get a decent run of shows together, and soon it was all confirmed. Michael was brilliant at Tae Sup, of course, and the following night I opened for him again, this time at Edinburgh Summerhall. I was, for whatever reason, spectacularly nervous that night, but Michael had drawn a good crowd and it was wonderful hearing him play in front of such an appreciative audience.
We kept in touch, and there was even talk of another tour and him perhaps releasing something together on Triassic Tusk. But after lockdown, he told me never wanted to get in a plane again. I can’t blame him, and in the end he decided – No. There were rumours about his health, and I do believe that played a part in his decision.
Pretty much from his first record to his last, every release he put out was special. My favourites would be Long Journey, Armchair Boogie, Sweetkorn, The Time of the Foxgloves, First Songs, Parsnip Snips – but they all had something weird and beautiful about them.
A fine example of an artist growing old whilst producing nothing but great, individual music. He certainly stayed on the bus.
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God told me to do it.