I Can Tell By The Way You Wash The Clothes, Your Cookin' Must Be Fine

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RECORD OF THE WEEK: MICHAEL HURLEY: Armchair Boogie




Without Michael Hurley, there would be no Devendra Banhart. Don't judge Hurley too harshly for that, though: I'm not sayin' that Devendra Banhart is his fault, exactly. All I'm tryin' to say is this: if one had to pick a ground zero Genesis progenitor honcho for the whole "freak folk" thing, one could be way further off the mark.

Portland's ever-slaying Mississippi Records recently reissued Hurley's 1970 effort Armchair Boogie on vinyl (the only way they ever do anything, bless their hearts), and I don't mind telling you that it's a solid STUNNER. Enough so, in fact, that it holds its own in the face of the label's more common M.O. of digging up the most heavy folkouts (gospel/sanctified singing, African highlife, country blues, etc.) they can find. NO MEAN FEAT, let me tell you, since all those records are bonkers great. The fact that it's as good as the Rats records the label just reissued is whatever (although those are certainly class affairs), but when you're putting a "freak folk" record next to a buncha fire-and-brimstone screamers who hate rock and roll with the passion of the ages, it better be a damn sight ahead of the norm (no bargain basement beardos need apply).

WELL, THEN: Armchair Boogie may be less overtly spiritual than MSR comps like Life Is A Problem, but 'tis no less cleansing in effect. Its power is different, but no less potent. Dang!

Let us first say that it's easy to see why The Holy Modal Rounders were such a booster for this dude (they covered several of his songs over the course of several albums, and have been known to play with him over the years... they played together in Portland a couple years ago, which I totally missed, to my eternal chagrin). Hurley's humor is far more subtle and gentle than that of the Rounders, but the man is still whacked in the gourd.

Moreso than the Rounders, in fact: as much as I do love their classic sides, ie. Indian War Whoop and especially Moray Eels Eat The Holy Modal Rounders (both essential grips if ya haven't already), their weirdo qualities were always mostly a put-on, methinks. That is to say that, drug intake notwithstanding, at the end of the day I bet Stampfel and Weber could turn off the weird if the situation called for as much, whereas I have my doubts about Hurley (Of course, I don't know any of these cats personally, so I could be way off the mark...).

As such, Hurley's bizarro vibe permeates these beautiful jams in an understated way that is too deep for any pretenders to fake. Consider, if you will, Hurley being credited as playing "mouth trumpet" on the back cover. Sittin' in your room and making trumpet sounds with your mouth when you're working on a jam is one thing, but to take solos with same on a record set to be released by a major record label (the album was originally released/distributed by Raccoon, a Warner Bros. subsidiary, in 1970) is another something altogether. It sounds great, better than you'd think, but I do wonder what the suits at WB were thinking when they got the masters. Granted, I guess money was floating through those dudes like blood back then, so they probably didn't care one way or another. Remember the Warner Loss Leaders series, where they sold two-LP sets for a dollar and they'd sequence Beefheart next to John Sebastian or something like that, because Dr. Demento was in charge of compiling them? Man, the 1970s were fucked up, and probably way sweeter than anyone who was there will ever admit. Wish I'd been there... maybe Rhino would have put out my first 45.

ANYWAY, BACK TO THE RECORD AT HAND, AND WHY IT IS AS ESSENTIAL AS, SAY, VITAMIN B-12 (which is good for anxiety, btw, although it's hard to find naturally in anything except milk, which explains why so many vegans I've known have been so uptight). Well, how about this: the songs are great. So many of these "rediscovered gems", especially when talkin' psych-folk kinda things, have a great vibe, but are short on great songs. Not so, Armchair Boogie. "Sweedeedee" is a beautiful ramble that makes me think of Richard Brautigan's Trout Fishing In America in its delicate romantic whimsy (although I'd better watch it with those kind of coy descriptors, lest I suggest that it's as toothless as, say, Chan Marshall's cover of same). "Be Kind To Me" is a raucous plea that must've killed in a live setting, and the loosey-goosey ensemble arrangement suits the melody just so. "Open Up" is a stellar cosmic come-on without being in any way suggestive or gross, and a great breezy summer jam to boot. These are just my favorites, but the record is full of potential mixtape fodder.

Hurley is still alive and kicking today. I think he lives in the resort town of Astoria, OR. Nice town. I wonder if he hangs out at the Yacht Club out there... nothing, at least nothing I can think of, would be more relaxing than having Michael Hurley serenade you in a sailboat. Come to think of it, I think I may have a goal for summer 2010.

Yeah, that's a great idea, actually, and possibly not entirely unattainable. After all, as Mark Borchardt (with whom I would also like to hang out in a boat) would say, "life is kinda cool sometimes". Wish me luck!

-Dustin Krcatovich
8/3/09