Lou Hazel was born in the town of Olean, New York to a family of northeastern wiseacres.

Not one to commit, he skirted the compulsive hunting and fishing tradition held close to his father’s heart - instead cultivating a sensitivity more suited to artists and vagabonds. As a result, his travels brought him across the country and eventually through debilitating depression before coming to rest with a sense of personal peace and positivity in Durham, NC.

Yet, Lou’s brain is still a bat cave. Mostly, he wakes up with no idea what he’s going to do next, then finds himself there. In songwriting, he pulls from this cave rambling, heartfelt tales flowing through unselfconscious truth. In illustrations, he swirls and meanders towards an eventual finish only understood upon completion – as in his music. And in his photography and design work, he renders the essence of fellow musicians into expressive, personalized works of art.

Today, Louie continues crafting genuine folk tales of honest longing, disquieting loss, and nostalgia through a brilliant sheen of fresh insight with humble humor. Grabbing us by the ears in a new-age, Prine-like grip. Transforming the minutiae of everyday life into ever more evocative music. And surprising us all, including himself, with where we emerge.

In other words, Lou Hazel is coming out of this unbearable, unbelievably tragic, disconcerting year like a damn newborn moth with jet engine wings aimed toward a totally full super-moon. And it is good.