Life & Times

 

I was born in Laramie in 1949, the year of the big snows. It snowed every day for months, then the winds came up, and it snowed some more. It was pretty bleak, the blizzard of ‘49, the worst to hit Wyoming in 70 years or ever since . But being from hardy western stock, with high plains ranching roots going back four generations, we just shook our heads, put some more wood on the fire, and started shoveling.

A few years later , when things thawed out, I took to cowboyin’ like a duck takes to water, or a Texan takes to braggin’. Long days in the saddle, haying, branding calves and fixing fence taught me the value of hard work, good horses and friends, and a love for the land and its history.

Mike_SantaFe_RGB_SM.jpg

I got my first guitar at 13, a brown one, with strings a half inch off the neck, I played ‘till my fingers bled and the dogs ran away from home never to return. I learned the old cowboy songs my Dad sang, the country blues from my Mississippi Mother, and started writing some of my own , Hank Williams, Muddy Waters Johnny Horton, Jimmy Rodgers, . I got an electric guitar, a Gretch Tennessean, and started playing weekends in the local honky-tonks, dance halls and dives with a country band. Drank whiskey with the boys , danced with the girls, and watched the sun come up. We started gettin’ pretty good, playin’ farther from home and opening for some big names. I still play with some of those same old boys that I started with over 30 years ago.

 

Traveled this whole country, with the band and on my own. Been from Hawaii to New York City, Mexico to Maine, picked with the famous and the unknown, in the spotlight, and in the moonlight. Worked as a cowboy, bronc buster, dude wrangler, hunting guide, logger, carpenter and surveyor, enjoyed ‘em all, but I like playin’ music for folks the best. I’ve met a bunch of good people, and some hard cases. Written a saddlebag full of songs, made a few records and c.d.’s and generally had a fine time. Now I live in Alta Wyoming , up by the Tetons, with my son Joey, who is gettin’ to be a pretty fair hand on the ‘ol guitar himself. If you walk by our place most any night we’re around, you’ll probably hear us, with the dogs singin’ along.




Prairie Blues

‚Äč

 

"Huriwtz's Prairie Blues come across as natural as breathing"

    - John Conquest -3rd Coast Music                                                      

 "Mike Hurwitz writes song like Larry Mahan rode broncs"

     - Dave Stamey

 

" a seemingly effortless delivery that goes down like a smooth, perfectly aged shot of fine scotch whiskey " 

         -Sing Out!

 

"Mike Hurwitz's voice and stories have been in the grain of the American West for a long time. Listen to his tunes and you'll be there too" 

   - Greg Keeler - Big Sky Journal

 

"Hurwitz's dusky baritone resonates with the sounds of mountains he's pondered, horses he's wrangled and land he's travelled. He's the real deal."

     - Meredith Oaks

 

"Michael Hurwitz grew up with a guitar in one hand and reins in the other. Along the road he's howled with coyotes and picked with the greats, and has become the best of both - wild and untamed."

    - American Cowboy Magazine