1960s Movement (+ Movement Adjacent) Playlist

For those of you who asked!

Thank you for reading! Per request, I made a playlist of some of the music referenced in my previous post, as well as some music I like from the time period that was mostly part of the Movement or had meaningful messaging. Spotify has some limits, and I had a few songs I wanted to include but couldn’t either because they weren’t there or because there was an issue with songs mislabeled (title and artist). I’ve added their YouTube links.

Many of these songs are really moving, but they’re all quite different. There’s obviously a lot of Dylan represented here including “Who Killed Davey Moore?” a clever song that switches perspectives in each verse. Acoustic music can be strange and alternative, and the avant-garde isn’t restricted to electric music.

The playlist starts with songs by Phil Ochs. “Here’s to the State of Mississippi,” is one of my favorites. It’s both topically and melodically interesting. This verse is resonant even today as books on race, sexuality, multiculturalism and gender are being banned in classrooms across the American South and replaced with Bibles and transphobic policies.

And here's to the schools of Mississippi
Where they're teaching all the children that they don't have to care
All the rudiments of hatred are present everywhere
And every single classroom is a factory of despair
And there's nobody learning such a foreign word as fair

I’ve also included Ochs’ satirical “Love Me, I’m a Liberal.” It’s cutting and brilliant and echoes a similar sentiment to Dr. King’s 1963 critiques of the white moderate, “more devoted to order than justice.”

Ochs opens:

In every American community, you have varying shades of political opinion. One of the shadiest of these is the liberals. An outspoken group on many subjects. Ten degrees to the left of center in good times, ten degrees to the right of center if it affects them personally.

I’ve had so much fun listening to Phil Ochs that I picked up this book at the Brooklyn Library today. The librarian had to go find it in the depths of the seldom checked out books.

There are a number of Len Chandler songs on the playlist. Len Chandler, a Black man who moved to NYC from Ohio, played at the Bitter End, but because the racism that permeated the entire country also was prevalent in the Greenwich Village scene (see James Baldwin’s Another Country), he never had successes that matched some of his contemporaries. Chandler had a rich and captivating voice, especially when he sang with Bernice Johnson Reagon. Chandler sang at the March on Washington too. I learned from David Browne’s book Talkin’ Greenwich Village (a great 2024 read) that Chandler was falsely accused of burglary, subsequently physically attacked and injured shortly before the March.

Chandler was friends with Tom Paxton, another folk singer politicized and musically inspired, by Woody Guthrie. Paxton made it onto the playlist too.

You’ll also find Richie Havens, famous for opening at Woodstock in 1969. Here he is singing Bob Dylan’s (Blind Boy Grunt’s) “Just Like a Woman,” from Blonde on Blonde.

There are two songs that are technically from 1970 and 1971—Exuma’s enchanting music from his self-titled album and from Do Wah Nanny. Exuma was a Bahamian musician who also kicked around the Village, making Junkanoo infused folk. One day I’d like to sit down and just read his lyrics and study their spiritual references.

I’ve decided folk music is expansive, and in that expansion, I’ve included Fannie Lou Hamer and of course the SNCC Freedom Singers.

You’ll hear Paul Clayton’s, “Who’s Gonna Buy Your Ribbons,” and if you’ve never heard this song, you’ll likely still recognize it. Dylan borrowed the melody and the opening line, “It ain’t no use,” for “Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright.”

The playlist continues with Bruce Langhorne, session guitarist, of course known for inspiring “Mr. Tambourine Man.” Then, there’s Terry Callier, a fellow great Chicagoan like yours truly.

Finally, I ended the playlist with Miriam Makeba. Her music and message were so radical that she was exiled from South Africa for 30 years during the apartheid regime. The final song is her duet with another great Civil Rights singer, Harry Belafonte.

First, the missing (or mislabeled) songs…

“I’m Going to Get My Baby Out of Jail,” Len Chandler and Bernice Johnson Reagon

“The Ballad of Martin Luther King,” Mike Millius

“Freedom Riders,” Phil Ochs

“I’m a Drifter,” David Crosby and Terry Callier