‘Pure pleasure is what it is,’ writes Byron Coley. ‘This was probably the first time Hurley brought his band out of the hills. Guitar, bass, drums, piano and trumpet, all of them beautifully in sync and swinging like the rural hippie boogie band they were — tested by long nights in halls filled with rowdy snowmobilers and the women who love them. Hurley & the Redbirds were more than ready to bowl over the city slickers who filled Folk City this hot mid-summer evening. Snock’s voice is limber and strong, flipping easily into falsetto and yodels, and the music is faultless. Something like the Platonic ideal of what ‘bar rock’ can be. They only do one tune from Have Moicy!, but nobody could have minded. The music rolls out like the sweetest-ever guzzle of maple syrup laced with Mello Corn Whiskey. So loaded, so powerful, you’re likely to shit the bed if you listen lying down.’
Recorded in NYC in 1976.
‘Committed to tape on February 20, 1979… a real declaration of identity for Loren. He was introducing himself publicly as a guitar player, although his approach was still very much dictated by the influence of the painter, Mark Rothko, who Loren once described as using a minimal palette to create vital art… The feel to this session is bluesy, in as much as Loren’s wordless vocals have a surface similarity to a hellhound’s, and while he was not using a slide, most of the notes he plays are bent to the edges of their known range. Fahey always said blues was ‘about’ anger, though there’s not really any of that here. I am more reminded of this Rothko quote. ‘You’ve got sadness in you, I’ve got sadness in me ... and my works of art are places where the two sadnesses can meet, and therefore both of us need to feel less sad.’ The first side is solo. On the second Loren is joined for a bit by Kath on hums and recorder. The music brims with sorrow more than anything else. And while it’s clear Loren was embracing an abstract avant garde aesthetic vis-a-vis his playing, the urge to communicate seems to lie at its roots. Whatever you choose to call it, this is the beginning of something quite beautiful’ (Byron Coley).