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Hurley's stuff is some of the most vivid singer-songwriter material ever recorded. Bent yet straight, idiosyncratic yet universal, his songs have made fun of English noblemen, pondered the eternal abyss, threatened crows, commiserated with a werewolf's angst, chastised people for drinking weasel piss, and warned of the flatulence caused by eating sausage. Though often amusing, shtick ain't Hurley's thing; there's depth to the singer's silliness. The wellspring of folk music that Hurley drank from at an early age has provided him with a context for just about everything he wants to say. Trusting in his own peculiarities, Hurley makes the world spin just a little bit slower, and a little bit bumpier. Somehow it feels much more natural that way.' --Jim MacNie, from his liner notes 'Michael Hurley is the last unreconstructed folkie-shaman in America. His songs are primordial tales of the hunt for good cheer and satisfying sex, etched like cave paintings on city walls and farmland silos. Like many characters in his songs, his voice seems to have been run over by the dump truck of life, but it marries human mystery to forthright music like no other.' -Milo Miles © 1997 Rounder Records Corp. Rounder 3043 Michael Hurley Snockgrass