I had the pleasure of meeting you briefly at the CLA Conference in San Jose.

Phil Ochs left a deep impression on me when I first heard his music in the 60s. Since then I have replaced his LPs in my collection when they were reissued on CD and when Rhino released the three-disc “Farewells & Fantasies” set, snapped that up, too.

I always thought it was unfortunate that singers like Ochs and Paxton labored in the shadow of Bob Dylan’s commercial success. Dylan could be wistfully vague and non-committal when it came to making a social statement: “The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind.” Great. Here’s a butterfly net, my friend; catch it if you can. Phil Ochs, on the other hand, attacked topical issues head-on with scathing, sardonic lyrics. Songs that he wrote still mirror America’s foreign policy over 30 years later: “(We’re the) Cops of the World” or just change the name of the country in “(The Marines Have Landed on the Shores of) Santo Domingo.” Ochs’ answer was not blowing in the wind. His answer was to challenge us to listen to our conscience and to commit ourselves to action:

Won’t be asked to do my share when I’m gone… Can’t say who’s to praise and who’s to blame when I’m gone… Can’t be singin’ louder than the guns when I’m gone… Can’t add my name into the fight when I’m gone… Won’t be laughin’ at the lies when I’m gone… And I can’t question how or wonder 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.

Both Ochs and Paxton were often played on underground FM stations (KMPX, KSAN) in San Francisco in the sixties. But it wasn’t until 1985 that I purchased a Tom Paxton recording, One Million Lawyers and Other Disasters, after hearing the wonderfully satiric track, Yuppies in the Sky.

Happily, works by and about Phil Ochs and Tom Paxton are available through our public libraries.

So much depends on how you define songwriting. Lyrics? Melody?

And, of course, for performer/composers, there’s the link between musicianship and composition that’s hard to break. It isn’t entirely a matter of, say, vocal or instrumental quality; it’s partly a matter of ability to claim a song.

Best example: Willie Nelson does not have the most mellifluous voice on this earth–but once he’s sung a song that he cares about (even a little bit), and particularly one that he wrote, I find it hard to listen to anyone else’s version without hearing Willie Nelson’s in the back of my mind. That even includes “Crazy.”

If I start posting more about music (which could happen), there are lots of interesting aspects–but I’m not involved in things like the “SingOut! list” so might sound awfully ignorant. Not that sounding ignorant is anything new for me!

I must say, the range of comments on the range of entries (almost as random as the title implies) continue to fascinate and enlighten me (and I hope readers).

In the case discussed, my guess is that Tom Paxton’s apparent love of humanity, for all its flaws and foibles, has helped sustain his creativity and his plain willingness to keep going.

What the heck. You want profundity? Not here: This is Walt at Random.

But even if it was completely random, there’d still be art/artists who match up in terms of emotional aspects.