“In A Dress” is the last song on Broken Homes and Gardens, the final album Michael Hurley made before he passed away on April 1.
Making that particular track—future posthumous releases notwithstanding—the conclusion of one of the great recording careers of the past century. A strong argument for outsider folk and fierce independence, and the indelible period at the end of Hurley’s endlessly fascinating artistic story.
According to No Quarter Records, which is releasing the album, Hurley set the track order on March 21, then headed east to play what would be his last shows in Tennessee and North Carolina. He died on the way back to his home near Astoria, cementing “In A Dress” as his eternal sign-off.
Related: Read our obituary for Bad Mr. Mike.
“In A Dress” wasn’t written by Michael Hurley, a songwriter revered by songwriters far and wide. It was written by a guy named Kenny Roby, who lives in North Carolina. Roby is not a household name—nor was Hurley, to be fair—but he is a well-respected musician who has been making sturdy, soulful roots-rock records since the mid-1990s, sometimes with his band, 6 String Drag. “In A Dress” is the third track on his first solo album Mercury’s Blues, released back in 1999.
Hurley’s version is typically heartfelt and rough-hewn, with Luke Ydstie’s bowed bass lurching back and forth behind his weathered singing voice and imperfectly plucked acoustic guitar. The “solo” is played by Hurley, using his mouth to mimic the sound of a trumpet, and the performance was recorded at “a kegger” years ago, according to No Quarter Records. You can hear what sounds like a half-dozen people clapping politely when it’s over.
Hurley didn’t know he was sequencing his final album, of course, but it feels perfectly fitting for his legendary catalog to come to an end in this head-scratching sort of way. This was a man, after all, respected and renowned for doing things his way, no matter how unconventional his way might’ve seemed.
Sometimes, that meant moving to rural Clatsop County and playing regular gigs at local haunts like The Rosebud Cafe in Scappoose and Laurelthirst Public House in northeast Portland. Often, it meant singing songs about monkeys and potatoes. And in this case, it meant ending his new album with a tossed off live recording of a 25-year-old Kenny Roby song.
The other cover on Broken Homes is a bit less confounding, if only because of Hurley’s career-long predilection for songs about food. It’s a lovely take on “Cherry Pie,” a song released by the doo-wop group Marvin and Johnny in the 1950s. Built around a skeletal guitar part, it draws much of its beauty from its pillow-soft choral vocals, provided by Portland artists Merle Law and Kassi Valazza, among others.
Fittingly, a host of longtime Hurley collaborators show up on Broken Homes, including guitarist Lewi Longmire (who called him “one of my dearest pals” on Instagram) and drummer Rachel Blumberg, who has played in his backing band, The Croakers, in recent years. Ydstie plays bass on all tracks but one, Kati Claborn sings on a couple, Barry Southern plays banjo on “New Orleans 61,” with Nate Lumbard adding bells, saxophone, bass clarinet, and xylophone in all the right places. Besides Longmire, all of them also played on Hurley’s 2021 album, The Time of the Foxgloves.
This cozy familiarity permeates every nook and cranny of Broken Homes. There are laid back blues-folk numbers (“Junebug”), droning reworks of previously released songs (“The Abominable Snowman”), alongside upbeat shuffles (“The Monkey”), and mellow fusions of vintage jazz and pop (“Indian Chiefs and Hula Girls”). In “Fava,” Hurley pairs idiosyncratic guitar-heroism with a silly voice and some silly lyrics about ricotta, ciabatta, and frittata, before asking the question that has surely been on everyone’s mind: “How ‘bout a banana for mañana?”
If there is some sort of surrealist symbolism or whimsical wisdom within that question is something only Hurley knows, and he’s not going to fill us in anytime soon. For a more straightforward sentiment, let’s fast forward to “I’ll Walk With You,” a spare duet co-written with Sarah Illingworth—providing a small measure of assurance and comfort in a world that feels a lot less weird and wonderful since Hurley exited it back on (of course) April Fool’s Day.
“I’ll walk with you till the morning slows me down / I’ll walk with you till it’s over, my friend,” he and Illingworth sing tenderly against the unfussy plink and plunk of acoustic guitar strings. “And if it proves that in the end I can’t be found / Keep on rolling and I’ll find you ‘round the bend.”
Rest easy, Mike. And thank you.
Michael Hurley’s Broken Homes and Gardens is out Sept. 12 on No Quarter Records and can be found on Bandcamp as a digital download, CD, or vinyl LP.