Welcome to Music Monday!
Do you ever feel like the world today is coming apart? The Government’s a mess, institutions are crumbling, the economy is in the toilet, and the media, who should be holding everyone accountable, swings between distractions and canned narratives. Democracy itself seems to be barely holding on. And the people running the show? Not exactly the noble defenders of our rights and freedoms we’d hope for. More like a circus act of self-serving clowns, cheered on by a cadre of lobotomized bootlickers unwilling to question their allegiances.
It’s an exhausting thing to witness! Some days, it feels like all that chaos isn’t just out there, it’s starting to creep inside of us too. Do you feel that way? Well, I do. More than I like to admit, actually... And so did the subject of our discussion today, Phil Ochs.
Ochs was a folk singer with a fire in his belly. He was deeply entangled in the political unrest of late 1960s and early 1970s America. He wrote protest songs, marched in rallies, and truly believed that music could change the world.
In 1965, he wrote Changes, a beautiful song that had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with the fleeting nature of time. It’s a quiet, aching meditation on how everything, nature, love, youth, and even life itself, is temporary.
Yet, despite the deep existential wisdom that he sings about, Ochs struggled to live according to it. Instead of surfing the tide of his troubled times, he was ultimately pulled under.
Let’s dive in.
Balladeer with a Heavy Heart
Phil Ochs was not your typical folk singer. He wasn’t content to simply strum a guitar and sing pretty melodies. He actually started out as a journalist, driven by a desire to document the world and report on the events unfolding around him.
Quickly realizing that music was mightier than the pen, he did what every engaged young man with an acoustic guitar and strong opinions did at that time: he became a folk singer.
Ochs lived in turbulent yet exhilarating times. The assassination of JFK had sent shockwaves through the nation. Civil rights activists were being brutalized in Southern towns. The Vietnam War was forcing scores of young men to die halfway across the world. In many ways, it felt like everything was falling apart.
But amidst all the turmoil, the Baby Boom generation was coming of age, fueling a youth revolution that rejected mainstream America and embraced an alternative way of being in the world. So, despite the violence and unrest, there was a prevailing sense of optimism, a belief that, in the end, a better world would eventually emerge.
And Ochs was in the thick of it. Blending music with journalism, he became a sort of troubadour chronicler, using his songs to engage the most pressing issues of his time. With his guitar in hand and his voice lifted in protest, he performed at countless political rallies, turning his music into anthems for social activism.
Ochs was driven by the era’s optimism. He believed in the power of change. But more than anything, he deeply believed that his music could shape the world. And yet, for all his belief in change, he struggled to cope with it when the tides turned against him.
And that’s where Changes comes in.
A Song Wise Beyond its Years
Changes is a rare gem in Phil Ochs’s catalog. It is not a protest song, nor is it a critique of the political establishment. It does not call for revolution or demand justice. Instead, it quietly reflects on something far more universal: the unstoppable, ever-changing rhythm of life.
The song opens with an invitation, as if a wandering philosopher settling under an agora, ready to share a reflection on the nature of existence. Ochs does not preach or persuade; he simply welcomes the listener in. The gentle melody fosters quiet introspection as he guides us through his poetic imagery, letting us uncover the truth on our own.
“Sit by my side, come as close as the air
Share in a memory of gray
And wander in my words
Dream about the pictures that I play
Of changes”
The second verse captures change through the lens of nature. Seasons turn, leaves redden, fade to brown, and eventually vanish. Everything moves in cycles, inevitable and unstoppable.
“Green leaves of summer turn red in the fall
To brown and to yellow, they fade.
And then they have to die, trapped within
The circle time parade.”
Ochs passes no judgment. Leaves do not resist their fate. They turn, they fall, and they make room for what comes next. Change is neither tragic nor cruel; it simply happens.
He then turns inward, reflecting on his own past. The warmth of childhood memories, once vivid and alive, slowly fades into the realization that those moments are gone. What once shone brightly is now covered in overgrowth, reclaimed by the steady creep of time:
“Scenes of my young years were warm in my mind
Visions of shadows that shine
'Til one day I returned
And found they were the victims of the vines
Of changes”
This verse is quietly heartbreaking. Anyone who has returned to a childhood home, only to find it smaller, dustier, or unrecognizably altered, knows the feeling. The places and people we once knew do not remain untouched. They grow, change, or fade away. Yet Ochs does not lament. He does not resist. He simply acknowledges that change has done what it always does.
In what may be the song’s most emotionally powerful verse, Ochs turns his poetic gaze to love. This is a deeply intimate kind of change, one that resonates with anyone who has ever felt the heartbreak of watching love slowly drift away.
“Your tears will be trembling, now we're somewhere else
One last cup of wine we will pour
And I'll kiss you one more time
And leave you on the rolling river shores
Of changes”
Love, like everything else, is also fleeting. Relationships evolve, people grow apart, and even the most intense romances eventually change into something else or disappear. The imagery here is poignant: a final drink, a last kiss, and two souls parting ways on the shores of life.
Once again, the tone is that of quiet acceptance. There is sadness, yes, but not despair. Love does not stand still, nor should it be expected to.
From nature to human existence to love, Ochs now turns to the central focus of his music: society, politics, and the state of the world. And surprisingly, it is here that the song takes on its most hopeful stance.
“The world's spinning madly, it drifts in the dark
Swings through a hollow of haze
A race around the stars
A journey through the universe ablaze
With changes”
The chaos of the world, the unpredictability of history, and the turbulence of the times all follow the same inevitable cycle of change. Nothing remains fixed forever. Just as darkness arrives, so too does light, leading to moments of renewal and hope.
This sense of optimism is echoed in the next verse:
Moments of magic will glow in the night
All fears of the forest are gone
But when the morning breaks
They're swept away by golden drops of dawn
Of changes”
In this verse, the march of history intertwines with the activism and social change that Ochs champions through his music. Beyond a belief in history’s progress, the song offers a hopeful view of his own time.
Change also holds the promise of renewal. Social injustice, racial segregation, and the Vietnam War may seem like endless storms, but their clouds will eventually clear. They have to. And with the youth revolution that Ochs is part of, a new dawn is on the horizon, bringing the hope of a better tomorrow.
At its heart, Changes is a song about embracing impermanence. It teaches us that nothing, good or bad, lasts forever. Seasons shift, youth fades, love evolves, and the world keeps turning, carrying away even the darkest nights.
And while this truth can be painful, it is also liberating. We should embrace the world as it is, not as we wish it to be. Rather than resisting change, we should learn to flow with it. Cherish the good while it lasts, and face the bad with the reassurance that it will not endure forever.
This insight cuts to the core of the human condition. It is the kind of wisdom many spend lifetimes searching for, but few actually achieve. A wisdom here voiced by the mouth of babe: a 25-year-old armed with nothing but a guitar and a dream for a better world.
If only I had possessed such wisdom at 25, it might have saved me a world of grief.
The Weight of Change
But here is the tragic irony. Ochs understood impermanence, perhaps better than most. He sang about the inevitability of change, about flowing with the shifting tides of time. And yet, when the world changed in ways he could not accept, hope gave way to despair, and he could not apply his wisdom to his own life.
Unfortunately, the hopeful aspirations of young people in the 1960s never fully materialized. In fact, by the end of the decade, one by one, every dream they once cherished had turned into a nightmare.
The folk music movement, along with its spirit of political activism, faded away, giving rise to the loud, electric hedonism of rock and roll.
The utopian spirit of Woodstock withered as the Altamont Festival descended into violence.
The election of Richard Nixon escalated the war in Vietnam, leading to the loss of countless more young lives.
The assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy shattered any remaining hope for racial equality.
The hippie ideal of free love and peaceful community met a gruesome end with the Manson murders.
The reckless pursuit of mind expansion through drugs claimed the lives of Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, and so many others, depriving the world of the boundless potential of their talent.
By the early 1970s, Ochs had become disillusioned. The revolution he had devoted himself to had been defeated. The world had indeed changed, but not in the way he had hoped.
The man who had spent his life fighting for a brighter future could not come to terms with the world changing for the worse. He found himself facing an even greater battle within his own soul. Consumed by the darkness that followed, he struggled with personal demons: depression, alcoholism, and an overwhelming sense of despair.
Eventually, the weight of it all became unbearable…
In 1976, Phil Ochs took his own life. He left behind a 13-year-old daughter, and a deafening silence that echoes to this day.
The Lessons of Changes
What stands out most about Phil Ochs is the heartbreaking paradox of his fate: a man who understood the fleeting nature of life so profoundly yet met such a tragic end.
You would think that someone so attuned to impermanence would find solace in it, that his wisdom would serve as a shield against the darkness.
But if even Ochs could not escape the clutches of despair, what does that mean for the rest of us? How vulnerable are we?
How vulnerable am I?
Like Ochs, we are living through turbulent times. The news cycle blares daily alarms: war, division, economic turmoil, political extremism. It’s easy to feel like the sky is falling.
Amid the relentless barrage of alarming news, I find myself drawn to an odd kind of habit: "dumpster diving." I doomscroll social media far longer than I should, chasing breaking stories and analysis, drowning in the noise, trying to make sense of everything.
But the flood of negativity takes its toll. It is easy to get lost in the fear that we are spiraling toward disaster with no way to stop it. I myself have had my share of dark days when I understood Ochs' despair all too well.
And I know I should step back. I know I should not spend so much time wading through the muck. But I do not do it for fun. I do it because of necessity. Because in this day and age, staying informed feels like a matter of survival. Though is that really true?
I wonder how many generations throughout the centuries believed they were witnessing the end times. I suspect they are legion. Yet, history pushed on. The world remains here, alive and turning, even if some doomsayers of the past never saw their woes resolved.
The present can feel overwhelming sometimes, but we can’t let it consume us. Stay informed, stay engaged, and stay vigilant—with moderation, of course—but don’t let the weight of current events break you. The world will change, as it always does.
Let this be the lesson of Phil Ochs.
So live your life, and if it all feels too overwhelming, pause. Take a breath. Listen to Changes. Let it remind you: nothing lasts forever. Not the good, not the bad. Hold on to your hope, the world will shift. And remember, always: this too shall pass!
Cheers,
Man in Plaid (who sometimes struggles to remind himself that even the worst todays will eventually become distant yesterdays)
Post Scriptum:
If the burden is too heavy, know that you do not have to carry it alone. Reach out and dial 988 to call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. Help is always available. You don't have to be on your own.
Next Up…
We explore how some songs take on a life of their own. A track that began as a personal story of trauma and loss evolved into something greater when fans reimagined it as a triumphant anthem celebrating the joy of being alive.
Find out next week.
Until then—Crank it up and Dive in!