Phil Ochs Albums (10)
What The Critics Say
Live at Newport features a dozen songs from Phil Ochs' performances at the 1963, 1964, and 1966 Newport Folk Festival. Four of these cuts were previously available on the Newport Broadside 1963 and Evening Concerts, Vol. 1 anthologies, but the rest were previously unreleased. While all of these songs are available on his studio albums, Ochs was in good form for these shows, so these are good supplementary versions. Especially noteworthy are the 1966 tracks; four of the five songs would appear in far more elaborately produced arrangements on his Pleasures of the Harbor and Tape from California albums. These solo acoustic performances are interesting contrasts, putting the voice and the lyrics at the forefront, in the best unplugged tradition. Ochs' singing on "Cross My Heart" is painfully flat, but the sincerity of the words and their importance to him carry the performance. Additionally, the version of "Half a Century High" (sung as "Half a Century Wise") included here runs over seven minutes, and contains several verses that never made it into the official studio recording of this song. The differences point to the tragic side of Ochs' career, in that he sacrificed chunks of his message and his art, and one of his best and most personal songs, in pursuit of commercial success and stardom. ~ Richie Unterberger & Bruce Eder, All Music Guide
'There and Now: Live in Vancouver'
Release Date 2/1/1991
Tracks 14
Label Rhino
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
This is the definitive Phil Ochs live album, found in a search of tape vaults 21 years after the fact. A "lost" 1968 concert, with poet Allen Ginsberg playing the bells on (you guessed it!) "The Bells," and featuring the best parts of his concert repertory, old and new, from "The Highwayman" through "William Butler Yeats Visits Lincoln Park and Escapes Unscathed," with stops along the way for "Outside of a Small Circle of Friends" and other underground calls-to-arms and reality checks. ~ Bruce Eder, All Music Guide
'The Broadside Tapes 1'
Release Date 1/1/1989
Tracks 16
Label Smithsonian Folkways
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Phil Ochs left behind dozens of demos, primarily songs that he put down on tape at the West 104th Street Manhattan offices of Broadside magazine. These aren't really "demos" in the sense of showcasing the songs for possible recording; he was recording these so that Broadside's editors could print the lyrics. Thus, there are choruses left out, and there's a lot of noise on some of them (these were done in what was essentially a newspaper office), all in the name of getting the words down, as Ochs strums his guitar and runs through the songs in a semi-formal fashion. The material is classic Ochs, earnest and topical, yet also weirdly funny and eclectic -- doing songs not only dealing with racism and workers' rights, but also about blacklist victim John Henry Faulk and the then-current controversy surrounding a memorial to Alfred Packer, a mountain guide who was convicted of eating five people to survive in a blizzard. Some of the material is surprisingly lighthearted in its tone and execution, such as "Spaceman" and "Christine Keeler." Among the serious songs, "Remember Me" is one of the best pieces he ever wrote. The strangest moment here is Ochs' cover, in a duet with Eric Andersen, of the Beatles' song "I Should've Known Better," recorded in 1964 at New York's Village Gate. Like most other rock & roll bands of the time, the Beatles were anathema to the folk audience, and Ochs' willingness to do the song, even in a spirit of fun, is startling. Perhaps the most revealing performances here, however, are "The Passing of My Life" and "That's the Way It's Gonna Be," which betray feelings of deep melancholy that might have hinted at the self-destructive suicidal tendencies that ultimately ended Ochs' life. ~ Bruce Eder, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
On the cover of Greatest Hits, Phil Ochs had appeared in a gold lamé suit like the one Elvis Presley wore on the cover of the 1959 album 50,000,000 Elvis Fans Can't Be Wrong: Elvis' Gold Records, Vol. 2. On the back cover was the legend, "50 Phil Ochs fans can't be wrong!" The suit and the Greatest Hits title were part of a concept Ochs, who had recently seen Presley perform in Las Vegas, was pursuing at the time. Always a student of popular culture, he harked back to the rebellious tone of 1950s rock & roll and wedded it to the revolutionary fervor of the late '60s -- or at least that was the idea for Gunfight at Carnegie Hall. Beginning a tour the month that Greatest Hits was released, he wore the suit onstage and for the first time used a backing band, mixing his own new and old songs with medleys of songs associated with Presley and Buddy Holly, as well as a version of "Mona Lisa," and even Merle Haggard's recent anti-hippie anthem "Okie From Muskogee." His two Carnegie Hall shows on the nights of March 27th and 28th, 1970, were marred by various incidents recounted on the back cover of the album. Gunfight at Carnegie Hall, containing 46-and-a-half minutes of the reported three-hour second show, focuses on the singer's attempt to explain his concept to a skeptical audience, which he does with a certain cockeyed wit, if without complete success, at least in front of these listeners. Ochs lobbied long for A&M to release an album drawn from the embattled show, which the label belatedly did, but only briefly and in Canada. Gunfight at Carnegie Hall was eventually reissued as part of a Collector's Choice two-fer, paired with Rehearsals for Retirement. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
'Rehearsals for Retirement'
Release Date 1/1/1969
Tracks 11
Label A&M
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
On Rehearsals for Retirement, Ochs retained his poetic sense, but his songs were imbued with the conflicts of the times. The leadoff track, "Pretty Smart on My Part," the hardest-rocking number Ochs had yet recorded, is sung in the persona of a violent right-wing extremist who fantasizes about running over hitchhikers, whipping women, and finally assassinating the president and taking over the government. Similarly, "I Kill Therefore I Am," a twangy rocker, is sung in the voice of a policeman who hates long-hairs, blacks, students, and homosexuals and plans to spray them with mace, beat them, and shoot them. Specifically combining the poetical with the political, the gentle waltz-time piano ballad "William Butler Yeats Visits Lincoln Park and Escapes Unscathed" is a haunting depiction of the confrontation between demonstrators and police in Chicago, quickly followed by a dancehall ditty that sends up its somber reflections without relieving the tragic tone. The result of the convention and the subsequent election of Richard Nixon as president represents, in the songwriter's judgment, the dawn of "Another Age," and a terrible one. That declaration is as positive as things get on Rehearsals for Retirement. For much of the album, Ochs expresses despair rather than anger. "My Life," another attractive piano ballad laced with strings, traces his personal disillusionment, while "The Scorpion Departs but Never Returns," actually a topical song about a nuclear submarine that sank in 1968, evokes familiar Ochs references to sailors, who, here, all drown. The plaintive "Doesn't Lenny Live Here Anymore" concerns the drug overdose death of comedian Lenny Bruce. In retrospect, especially because of Ochs' suicide seven years later, it is impossible not to see the evidence of the songwriter's personal anguish in Rehearsals for Retirement. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
On his fourth album, Pleasures of the Harbor, Phil Ochs broke from both his topical songwriting style and his acoustic folk music approach for an album of long, poetic songs set to elaborate, eclectic arrangements. For its follow-up, Tape From California, he combined his earlier and more recent styles, addressing such issues as war and union organizing along with more discursive efforts, and including a few more complicated arrangements mixed in with simple guitar accompaniments. There were some directly political efforts, but in the more poetic songs, Ochs seemed to be painting a portrait of a desperate, debased society and his own sense of personal decline. For example, the marathon "When in Rome" conflated images from slavery, the Nuremberg trials, and ancient Rome to compile a compendium of evil and decadence through the centuries, clearly implying that the present day was another such era. Ochs imbued his lyrics with his characteristic sense of irony, and the arrangements by producer Larry Marks, Bob Thompson, and Ian Freebairn-Smith complemented the songs wittily. But released in the middle of 1968, the most tumultuous year of the tumultuous '60s, Tape from California was often hard to listen to, because it was such a frighteningly accurate portrait of its times, eerily mirroring the point at which passionate argument over the direction of the country spilled over into violence and a widespread sense of absurdity. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Going into the studio after Dylan's move into rock accompaniment and Sgt. Pepper's vast expansion of pop music, Ochs wanted to make a record that reflected all these trends, and he hired producer Larry Marks, arranger Ian Freebairn-Smith, and pianist Lincoln Mayorga -- all of whom had classical backgrounds -- to help him realize his vision. The result was Pleasures of the Harbor, his most musically varied and ambitious album, one routinely cited as his greatest accomplishment. Though the lyrics were usually not directly political, they continued to reflect his established points of view. His social criticisms here were complex, and they went largely unnoticed on a long album full of long songs, many of which did not support the literal interpretations they nevertheless received. The album was consistently imbued with images of mortality, and it all came together on the abstract, electronic-tinged final track, "The Crucifixion." Usually taken to be about John F. Kennedy, it concerns the emergence of a hero in a corrupt world and his inevitable downfall through betrayal. Ochs offers no satisfying resolution; the goals cannot be compromised, and they will not be fulfilled. It was anything but easy listening, but it was an effective conclusion to a brilliant album that anticipated the devastating and tragic turn of the late '60s, as well as its maker's own eventual decline and demise. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
During much of the career of this great performer, this so-called live album was the only recording that supposedly represented Phil Ochs as he was heard in concert -- in other words, solo. While his major studio albums concentrated on orchestral productions, sometimes bordering on unlistenable pretension or slightly uncomfortable band tracks, his live performances inevitably consisted of just one man with his voice and guitar, at least until his ill-fated rock & roll venture near the end of his popularity. Posthumous releases such as There and Now: Live in Vancouver 1968 have managed to set the discography straight, so that listeners can really hear this man's musical art at its strongest by enjoying a recording of a full concert. The short Phil Ochs in Concert album doesn't quite make it. After all, the production of live albums inevitably resulted in inferior products during the '60s, even in the case of great live performers such as the Rolling Stones. To make matters worse, the scuttlebutt on this project is that these aren't live recordings at all, but studio performances augmented with canned applause. If so, the fake is fairly well done, and Ochs alone with a guitar in the studio is certainly effective. Several of the performances here were the initial experiences of some of his classic songs for listeners, including the remarkable "When I'm Gone," the tough "Canons of Christianity," and the prophetic "Cops of the World." "There But for Fortune," one of this artist's most famous songs, is also here, as is "Changes," a lovely ballad that was one of the first glimpses into the non-political part of this man's soul. ~ Eugene Chadbourne, All Music Guide
'I Ain't Marching Anymore'
Release Date 1/1/1965
Tracks 14
Label Carthage
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
What a difference a year made for Phil Ochs -- his 1964 debut, All the News That's Fit to Sing, gained him a reputation as the most promising songwriter to come out of the Greenwich Village folk scene since Bob Dylan, and 1965's I Ain't Marching Anymore proved he was every bit as good as his press clippings said. Ochs had grown by leaps and bounds as a performer in the space between the two albums, and where Phil sometimes sounded a bit clumsy and uncertain on his first LP, here he brims with confidence, and his guitar work -- simple but forceful and efficient -- didn't require another musician's sweetening as it did on All the News. Most importantly, while Ochs' songwriting was uneven but compelling in his first collection, I Ain't Marching Anymore finds him in consistently strong form throughout. The craft and the emotional weight of the material makes even the most dated material ("Draft Dodger Rag" and "Here's to the State of Mississippi") effective today, and a surprising number of the songs remain as potent (and sadly timely) today as in 1965, especially "Iron Maiden" and "That's What I Want to Hear." And if there are fewer jokes on this set, "Draft Dodger Rag" is funnier than anything on Phil's first album, and his cover of Ewan MacColl's "Ballad of the Carpenter" (as well as his adaptation of Alfred Noyes' "The Highwayman") revealed what a strong interpretive performer he could be. (His liner notes are pretty good, too; it's a shame he didn't write more prose.) Literally dozens of singer/songwriters jumped on the protest bandwagon after the success of Bob Dylan and Joan Baez, but one would be hard-pressed to name one who made an album that works as well almost four decades later as I Ain't Marching Anymore. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
'All the News That's Fit to Sing'
Release Date 1/1/1964
Tracks 15
Label Elektra
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Early on in his career, someone described Phil Ochs as a "singing journalist," and his first album, All the News That's Fit to Sing, represented the state of the art in topical songs in 1964. That presents a bit of a problem when listening to it today; Ochs's debut is so much a product of its time and place that it just sounds perplexing a few decades on. Remember Lou Marsh? Or William Worthy? Well, if you don't, the songs about them on this album may not mean much to you, and while the facts behind the Vietnam War, the Cuban missile crisis, and the civil rights movement are doubtless clearer in your mind, that only gives them a perversely nostalgic quality that hardly becomes them. And past the issue of topicality, All the News That's Fit to Sing captures Phil Ochs when he was still young and a bit green; his vocals are sometimes hesitant, his material is often a bit obvious, and the spare two-guitar accompaniment (Danny Kalb plays the flashier licks) is a bit too generically folkie for its own good. But Ochs' remarkable talent is still apparent despite the album's flaws; "One More Parade" and "Power and the Glory" are as striking now as the day they were written, "Too Many Martyrs" and "Celia" summon an emotional power that has outlived their topicality, and his adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Bells" proves his musical instincts were as keen as his lyrical ones. A flawed but engaging debut which points to the stronger work Ochs would soon put to wax. ~ Mark Deming, All Music Guide
