For someone who came of age during the Reagan 1980s, the decade of junk bonds that made synthesizers and drum machines permanent fixtures in popular music, it’s a treat to listen in as politically active socially aware women discuss their favorite folk artist’s songs about war and protest.
Podcaster Tori Nelson, a 24-year-old Iowan, wasn’t digging into archives from the 1960s for this engaging first segment of “God Help the Troubadour,” a new podcast about the life, music and contributions of Phil Ochs.
Nelson brought together a handful of her peers from around the United States to discuss Ochs’ first record, “All The News That’s Fit to Sing.”
The conversation, which follows Nelson’s well-written and well-produced introduction to Ochs’ early life, his beginnings as a journalist and entry into music, illustrates why this 1964 protest record, and other folk music, is still relevant today.
My own introduction to Phil Ochs happened in junior high, around 1979 when I was assigned to write a paper analyzing the meaning of a song. Like many kids in the ‘70s, I used to hang around the record store to learn about music. I sought advice from the store employees, and one handed me a copy of “Phil Ochs’ Greatest Hits.” That 1970 album, which wasn’t a greatest hits record at all, was his last full-length release. The store manager let me make a copy of his draft card, which he still carried in his wallet, and I presented it partially burned as part of my report about the song, “Ten Cents A Coup” about the 1972 election and Vietnam War protests.
With that history, I approached this podcast interested in learning more, though still largely unfamiliar with Ochs’ story.
The presentation by Nelson, who describes herself as “born listening” to Ochs, is equally appealing to those who have never heard of this songwriter who played in Greenwich Village clubs alongside Bob Dylan and was inspired by Woody Guthrie.
Nelson begins the podcast with a well-written and clearly delivered report, enlisting a friend to portray Ochs to punctuate some of the key moments and keep the listener engaged. This keeps it from sounding like she’s reading a school term paper, but she wisely does not overuse this device. It’s enough to inject drama into his life story in a way that engages the unfamiliar listener while giving reason for a legion of young Phil Ochs superfans to stick around for the real treat.
Who would have guessed that Phil Ochs had a following among GenZ women, whose top values include things, such as weight acceptance and emotional well-being, that weren’t really on the radar in the 1960s and ‘70s?
Members of the panel, age 19 to 29, are scattered across many miles and have only communicated by text. Comfortable in their views and willing to share, this small circle of people who “did not exist in Phil’s lifetime,” didn’t need much moderating. Nelson managed it with ease, more as a conversation among friends than as a talk-show host looking to generate conflict between strangers.
Starting with a brief introduction, Nelson’s request for each to identify their pronouns reminds the listener that this is definitely not a replay from 1965.
As the conversation deepens, listeners begin to understand that Ochs had the gift of storytelling, like Bruce Springsteen, the wit of a Tom Lehrer and the social commentary of Pete Seeger and Joan Baez. These are my references, not theirs.
As the songs on the album are discussed, we hear snippets of the music, making it more accessible to nonfans and creating a connection for those already familiar with Ochs’ work.
The most valuable revelations were the opinions about why the songs hold up and how they might be portrayed on Twitch, Twitter and other modern platforms.
“Even his most specific topical songs always have at least one line that can be applied to something today. Or just an issue that’s still prevalent. -- that’s just amazing to me, and always a little sad,” Nelson observed. “We are always talking about how it’s sad that so much of his music is still relevant.”
Nelson also notes that Ochs’ lessons are not limited to one political viewpoint.
As an admirer of John F. Kennedy, the folk singer’s early Vietnam protest songs showed he was not afraid to criticize or disagree with his political idol. And Ochs loved conservative Anita Bryant’s version of “The Power and the Glory.” He viewed protest as patriotic — a concept that seems foreign against the backdrop of the 2020 election and assertions that loyalty now means blind loyalty. Ochs reminds us that a patriot’s job is to keep leaders accountable.
Admitting that they had to look up the history behind some of his lyrics, one noted that maybe Ochs remains relevant because his purpose has evolved.
Rather than creating solidarity among those within a protest movement, the songs now hold lessons for today’s activists to use in their own political battles, she said.
“History is so cyclical,” Nelson notes. “That’s the reason for this show - because Phil Ochs is still necessary today.”
I listened to this podcast in the car while running errands. Stopped at a red light in Naperville, a minivan pulled up, and two guys who appeared to be in their late teens or early 20s gestured for me to roll down my window. They asked what I was listening to.
“It’s a podcast about an old folk singer named Phil Ochs. O-C-H-S. God Help the Troubadour. Look it up,” I said.
“O-A-K-S? Never heard of him,” the passenger said.
I corrected him and tried to explain that he wrote protest songs during the Vietnam era, but his songs are still relevant and this podcast features a bunch of women about their age talking about how much they love him.
“Cool,” the passenger said.”My grandpa was a hippie.”
