Remembering Phil Ochs

"Ah, but in such an ugly time, the true protest is beauty." Phil Ochs

I was late to discover his music, a college student in the early 1970s when I first heard what they called his “choirboy voice,” singing the most brilliant protest songs I had ever heard, at a time when I was worrying about avoiding the Vietnam-era draft.

Oh, I marched to the Battle of New Orleans
At the end of the early British war
Young land started growing, young blood started flowing
But I ain’t marching anymore …

For I marched to the battles of the German trench
In a war that was bound to end all wars
Oh, I must have killed a million men, now they want me back again
But I ain’t marching anymore

It’s always the old to lead us to the wars
It’s always the young to fall
Now look at all we’ve won with the saber and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all?

I was stunned by the voice, the wit, the writing. I bought the album, named for the title song (above) then all his albums. I knew that early in his career, he had competed with Bob Dylan for what the media called folk and Ochs, more correctly, called “topical” songs. Dylan became the greater poet, and produced songs like The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” and “Only a Pawn in Their Game.”

But Ochs produced more, and on the whole better, songs about the American condition in the 1960s, plus some unforgettable ballads, notably “Changes.” The biting and hilarious “Love Me, I’m a Liberal” is very dated now. but still true.

“Small Circle of Friends,” however, is just as biting and brilliant as ever. As time went on, Ochs produced some brilliant long art songs, such as “Pleasures of the Harbor.” As I age, his “Rehearsals for Retirement” holds more and more meaning for me.

I have, many times over the last half-century, wished Ochs were here to write songs about this or that. But even the twenty-year old me could tell that something was wrong with this brilliant writer. In fact, he was bipolar, an alcoholic, and the twin disorders were destroying him. Fifty years ago tomorrow, he played cards with his sister’s children, sent them off on an errand, and hanged himself in the bathroom.

One of his last works said it all, better than any suicide note could. It was a song called “No More Songs.”

He was only 35 years old. What few of his contemporaries knew was that Ochs, a Jewish kid from Ohio, who went to military school for a time, was in fact a true conservative who loved his country and was personally offended by the political crooks and phonies who kept betraying it.

Time and again throughout my life, I have looked at the news and wished Phil was here to write about it. But not now. The vulgarity and sheer evil of Donald Trump and his creatures are so massive no parody could be possible.

However, in a song about the hopelessness of the Vietnam war, Ochs sang “Just before the end, treason might be worth a try/This country is too young to die.”

And exactly sixty years ago, Ochs left us a guidepost in the form of a song I listen to often, and would want played at my funeral were I to have one.

It is called “When I’m Gone,” and this is how it goes:

There’s no place in this world where I’ll belong when I’m gone
And I won’t know the right from the wrong when I’m gone
And you won’t find me singin’ on this song when I’m gone
So I guess I’ll have to do it while I’m here

And I won’t feel the flowing of the time when I’m gone
All the pleasures of love will not be mine when I’m gone
My pen won’t pour a lyric line when I’m gone
So I guess I’ll have to do it while I’m here

And I won’t breathe the bracing air when I’m gone
And I can’t even worry ‘bout my cares when I’m gone
Won’t be asked to do my share when I’m gone
So I guess I’ll have to do it while I’m here

And I won’t be running from the rain when I’m gone
And I can’t even suffer from the pain when I’m gone
Can’t say who’s to praise and who’s to blame when I’m gone
So I guess I’ll have to do it while I’m here

Won’t see the golden of the sun when I’m gone
And the evenings and the mornings will be one when I’m gone
Can’t be singin’ louder than the guns while I’m gone
So I guess I’ll have to do it

I’ll guess I’ll have to do it

Guess I’ll have to do it while I’m here

All my days won’t be dances of delight when I’m gone
And the sands will be shifting from my sight when I’m gone
Can’t add my name into the fight while I’m gone
So I guess I’ll have to do it while I’m here


And I won’t be laughin’ at the lies when I’m gone
And I can’t question how or when or why when I’m gone
Can’t live proud enough to die when I’m gone
So I guess I’ll have to do it while I’m here

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