1.9.23

PHIL OCHS IN CENTRAL PARK

Recently granted access to a cache of Melody Makers from the 1970s, I was pleased to find this in the issue dated May 24, 1975 – my review of an unusual concert in New York’s Central Park on May 11. Phil Ochs, of course, was my absentee landlord when I lived in his apartment in Los Angeles during the latter part of 1973, an arrangement enabled through his brother Michael, and for this reason I have always felt an affinity with this singer, songwriter and hero of the American protest movement. 

It was the croaky, off-tune voice of Phil Ochs singing ‘The War Is Over’ that brought a huge crowd of Sunday afternooners to their feet in Central Park at the weekend, reliving memories of an earlier occasion when this song was sung on the streets of New York. 

        Ochs was the central figure in a free concert planned to celebrate the end of the war in Vietnam and although he recruited a host of artists to appear on the bill alongside him (Paul Simon, Richie Havens, Joan Baez, Peter Yarrow, Pete Seeger, Tom Paxton and others), it was Phil’s rendering of three essential period pieces that set the mood for an afternoon graced not only by fine weather but with a sense of achievement for an event well organised.

        Phil, who admits his voice is shot and whose recent creativity has slumped to an all-time low, is something of a legendary figure in New York/Village/political/folkie circles. He put the bill together for this show, designed a poster (above) and duetted with Joan Baez on a moving rendition of ‘There But For Fortune’, perhaps his best-known song.

        Unrehearsed and off-key, Phil stood up to sing ‘I Ain’t Marching Any More’ with the determination of a political candidate. “My voice ain’t too good these days,” he admitted. “And I probably can’t hit the high notes any more. But we’ll try it anyway.”

        The crowd joined in on the choruses and the years fell away to the period when it was hip to protest against the hostilities in the Far East. With Baez, he was hesitant (it was the first time the two – songwriter and hitmaker – had ever duetted on ‘There But For Fortune’) but they traded lines across Phil’s Martin; it wasn’t the moment for musical subtlety anyway.

I found this picture of Phil & Joan at the event online. It is credited to Jean Pierre Laffont. 

        Ochs closed with ‘The War Is Over’, relating how the song was originally written during a demonstration in New York’s Washington Square some seven years ago. On that occasion Ochs and various colleagues decided to declare the Vietnam offensive over themselves. Slipping into a lower octave for the verses, Och’s strained at the throat to hit the higher notes without much success. Again, it didn’t matter. The feel was what counted.

        Paul Simon was the biggest star of the day, John Lennon having excused himself on the grounds of “not being in a singing condition at the present time”. Lennon probably declined to attend because of his decision to lie low while the courts decide his future in the US. Publicity surrounding his appearance at this kind of event would do more harm than good. There was a rumour that George Harrison would show, but he never did.

        Paul Simon, never the spontaneous artist, looked his usual nervous self. He opened with a flawless rendering of ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ while photographers literally fought to snap his profile. He received a tremendous ovation but looked hesitantly around him for encouragement from the other artists waiting to appear.

        Attempting a tune-up, he slid into ‘American Tune’, a particularly appropriate song but it never got off the ground. While tuning his guitar and singing at the same time, he hastily decided to abandon the song – which was beginning to drag – and liven up the proceedings with the jerky intro to ‘Me And Julio Down By The Schoolyard’.

        He completed about half this song before giving up on the guitar, bowing and picking up his young son Harper, and encouraging him to say ‘peace’ into the microphone. He did just that and was rewarded with a cheer that rivalled his famous daddy.

        “I wasn’t quite prepared for that,” a flustered Simon told me backstage while being trodden underfoot by yet more cameramen. He made a hasty getaway.

        Joan Baez sang a version of ‘Joe Hill’ which reminded me of the live Woodstock album, and was joined by Peter Yarrow for a fine version of ‘Blown’ In The Wind’. The audience responded as if Dylan himself was up on stage, singing the choruses and even cheering the end of each stanza.

        Other artists had their chance to sing a couple of numbers. Richie Havens sang a lengthy ‘Freedom’, Sister Odetta, Pete Seeger and Tom Paxton all came up with a couple of songs and Patti Smith, folk poet and totally original rock performer, put over two pieces before her biggest-yet audience. She also brought greetings from Stevie Wonder in the form of a cassette recording which, unfortunately, couldn’t be played.

        Between acts there were political speakers who, for the most part, tended to drag proceedings to a deathly crawl. Every tub thumper with a cause was allowed to air their views and, consequently, topics that ranged from the American Indian Movement to the struggle within trade unions were all debated from the platform. The majority of speeches, however, dealt with the celebration to mark the liberation of Vietnam and all speakers showered plenty of praise on the Viet Cong.

        Advertisements for the event had promised a minimum of speeches but this was forgotten as a host of personalities, from deserters to mothers who had lost their sons in the conflict followed each other to the microphone. There was even a telephone conversation with some Vietnamese arrivals who didn’t speak English. Quite fatuous. 

        The speeches actually took up the bulk of the afternoon and it was a long afternoon, stretching from midday until sunset when Central Park is traditionally taken over by ne’er do wells and winos seeking a berth for the night.

        “It was a success, I think,” Phil Ochs told me a couple of days later. “We raised enough money to pay for the event with a little left over to send to Vietnam, and I was pleased everyone showed up. I called Paul Simon personally and knew he would show because he had to pass through the city that day on his way from Long Island to New Jersey.” 


1 comment:

Marty said...

I stood up front for much of the day. It was very moving after all the years of protesting.