bio

Surrounded by the majestic beauty and rugged wildness of the Northern Rockies, songwriter Michael Shaw worked as a horseman and wilderness ranger in Western Montana for more than a decade. That unpredictable natural landscape—and the isolation that goes along with it—shapes his debut album, He Rode On.

“I’ve always felt drawn to wildness—wild people, wild places, wild emotions,” he says.

Indeed, Shaw’s earliest memory is from the Keeneland Race Course in Lexington, Kentucky, where his father would sneak him down to a forested spot along the fence line. “I remember the ground shaking and the thunder of hooves as they came around that final turn. The energy and drive of those horses were almost palpable,” he says. “That feeling never left me. I want my music to convey that same level of drive and excitement.”

He Rode On leads with “Bad Honky-Tonker,” a sly anthem described by Shaw as “the bastard love child of Keith Richards and Dwight Yoakam.”

With a swagger in his vocal and a sharp eye for detail, Shaw brings authenticity to He Rode On, as everything he references on the album—from living off the land to cheating death—is rooted in the truth. Shaw’s captivating songwriting can be directly traced to his own experiences in the West, yet his stories are universal, whether he’s delivering a rowdy barroom anthem or a meditative song about the loss of a loved one.

For He Rode On, Shaw reconnected with producer/guitarist Grant Siemens, known for his work with Canadian country artist Corb Lund. Shaw first met Siemens at the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nevada, and established a lasting friendship. Shaw says, “I drove to Grant’s hometown of Winnipeg, Manitoba, and everyone gathered together in the same room and recorded live to tape, trying to capture the feel and warmth of my favorite albums from the ‘60s and ‘70s.” Guests include drummer John McTigue III (Emmylou Harris, Rodney Crowell) and steel guitarist Robbie Turner (Waylon Jennings, Chris Stapleton). Shaw wrote all 10 songs on the project.

He Rode On leads with “Bad Honky Tonker,” a sly anthem described by Shaw as “the bastard love child of Keith Richards and Dwight Yoakam.” That’s followed by “Outlaw’s Refuge,” written when Shaw was living on Flathead Indian Tribal Wilderness, making homemade wine, hunting and fishing, harvesting the fat of the land. Carrying on that independent streak, the song “Billy” is inspired by his long-time friendship with an eccentric muleskinner who leads his life in an inimitable fashion.

Shaw’s love of wild places led him to Glacier National Park, where he worked twelve summers as a wilderness ranger.

Shaw’s own trajectory is equally compelling. As a young man he left the Appalachian foothills and moved to the mountains of Western Montana. He worked a solitary graveyard shift, where he devoured classical literature at night, and got lost in the mountains by day. His love of wilderness led him to Glacier National Park, where he spent the next twelve summers following his passion for wild nature, and the winters following his passion for music, until the lines between the two were blurred. Those winters were spent alone in rural places like a cabin off the grid with no running water or electricity. Deep in the heart of grizzly and wolf country, there was nothing to do but chop wood and write songs.

Rambunctious numbers like “Cowboy Boots And A Little Country Dress” tie that Western imagery together—throwing in a yodel for good measure. In contrast, “Huckleberry Wine,” written when Shaw was living in a remote cabin near the Canadian Border, addresses the loneliness that comes with rural Western living.

For seven winters, Shaw was the lone caretaker of an isolated horse ranch on the Blackfoot River. In order to get along with the more difficult horses there, he took up a serious study of natural horsemanship.

“I went down to Dillon, Montana to work with some really good cowboys. I learned how to ‘feel’ of the horse, get in tune with them. The process saw me getting dragged, kicked, bit and bucked off. It tested my patience in all kinds of ways. But being a better horseman made me a better person. It’s a lifelong process, and you never stop learning from those animals,” he says.

For seven winters, Shaw was the lone caretaker of an isolated horse ranch on the Blackfoot River.

After moving to Montana, Shaw talked his best friend and musical soul mate, Colin McKnight, into joining him. They immediately resumed their musical partnership—McKnight played a country-style Telecaster and Shaw was a practiced drummer. Shaw began writing songs on McKnight’s acoustic guitar, and quickly built a portfolio of original material. They formed a hard-driving country band called Whiskey Rebellion, which handed out free bourbon at their shows. Rowdy tunes like “Shot Down” and “Stick A Fork In It” echo that experience.

“We used to play at this crazy log cabin saloon out in the middle of nowhere—smack dab in Lolo National Forest. People would come from out in the sticks and drink a ton of booze and light the place up. The dance floor was always crowded and there were bar fights and it was like something out of a movie. The band would camp out after the shows and have huge bonfires and stay up drinking whiskey till sunrise,” Shaw says.

“Being alone deep in the mountains helped me come to terms with all that had happened. Wild nature has its own set of laws that go beyond the world of man.”

When Whiskey Rebellion broke up, Shaw put his drums away and picked up a guitar. He and McKnight honed their craft as a duo with the goal of giving up their day jobs and pursuing music full-time. “We became extremely tight as a unit, and it was the most inspiring music I’ve ever made. Even though it was just the two of us playing at this isolated ranch house in middle-of-nowhere Montana,” he says.

But then just as they were preparing to record their music and start playing out, McKnight died suddenly from a tragic accident. “I remember the phone call,” says Shaw. “The news hit me like a hurricane. I uncorked a bottle of red wine, and three bottles later—after a solo vigil that lasted till sunrise—I collapsed onto my bed. When I woke later that morning the sheets were red, stained from wine. It looked like I’d been stabbed in the heart.” They had played just one open mic as a duo; their only recordings together were lost when the digital recorder was stolen from Shaw’s truck.

“I disappeared into the Northern Rockies with my work horses, Pancho and Snuffy, and began my darkest hour. Being alone with my horses, deep in the mountains, helped me come to terms with all that had happened. Wild nature has its own set of laws that go beyond the world of man.”

“In our last couple years together, after nearly 18 years of musical and friendly brotherhood, I believe Colin and I reached a level of connection that was nothing short of blood harmony.”

For the recording of He Rode On, Shaw wanted McKnight to be there somehow. “I opened a bottle of Maker’s Mark, our favorite bourbon, and put some of his ashes inside. I took a drink for good measure, re-capped it, and re-dipped the bottle in red wax. Whenever I needed some inspiration in the studio, I did a shot with my old friend, shaking the bottle of his whiskey-soaked ashes while I pulled off a bottle of Buffalo Trace.”

McKnight’s presence is certainly felt on the album. His old Telecaster was used on several recordings, including the searing “Stick A Fork In It.” The western epic “Like They Used To” is included because it was his favorite song of Shaw’s. The title track, which closes the album, ends with an emotional tribute to their friendship.

“There’s a phrase in music called ‘blood harmony,’ which describes a close-knit way of singing by blood-related folks who share an almost supernatural sympathy,” Shaw says. “In our last years together, after nearly 18 years of musical and friendly brotherhood, Colin and I reached a level of connection that was nothing short of blood harmony. He Rode On is dedicated to my old friend, and to how he lived his life.”