P.F. Sloan, “Eve Of Destruction”

You’ve done a great job if you’ve written a song that still holds meaning and immediacy a half-century down the road. If you’ve managed that feat at the tender age of 19, you’re really ahead of the game.

That’s exactly what P.F. Sloan accomplished with “Eve Of Destruction.” Although The Byrds took a pass on the song and The Turtles, Jan and Dean, and The Grass Roots all released versions in the mid-60’s, it was the relatively unheralded Barry McGuire who took the song into the stratosphere in 1965. Sparked by the timeliness of its message and the urgency of the recording, McGuire’s take muscled all the way to #1 on the U.S. charts.

Sloan wrote on his website about the impetus for the song. “It released some major concerns for myself and maybe because it was coming from a genuine concern for the well-being of America and the world,” he recalled. “I remember in 1965 the civil rights movement had begun, Vietnam was in the background, the cold war had heated up so drastically that we’re just finding out today how close the world came to the brink of a nuclear war. This was in the air, fear and hypocrisy… the unthinkable could be happening.”

Topical songs always run the risk of becoming dated, and some of the specific references found on “Eve Of Destruction” have retreated somewhat from the world stage while other concerns have risen to the forefront. But Sloan’s lyrics overcome that thanks to the conviction behind them.

“Yeah, my bloods so mad feels like coagulatin,” the narrator moans, his angst vividly rendered. When he mentions the efforts for Civil Rights, his lines about legislative stagnation and rampant indecency cut through the nonsense and, sadly, sound like they could have been written last night: “Handful of senators don’t pass legislation/And marches alone can’t bring integration/When human respect is disintegratin.’”

Sloan extends the length of the final verse so that the full measure of his frustration and fury can be felt: “The pounding of the drums, the pride and disgrace/You can bury your dead but don’t leave a trace/Hate your next door neighbor but don’t forget to say grace.” Such a litany of negativity, however honest, might have been a bit too much medicine had not Sloan addressed and hooked the listeners with an unforgettable chorus: “And you tell me over and over and over again, my friend/Ah, you don’t believe/We’re on the eve of destruction.”

While Sloan may have had the vision, McGuire deserves a lot of credit for interpreting it in such striking fashion. With his quasi-Dylanesque growl, he sounds a bit like a madman raving on the street corner about the world’s impending doom. Yet as the song progresses and his indignant howls start to make more and more sense, he seems like the last sane man, spewing prophecies and warnings that the ignorance of mankind drowns out.

“Eve Of Destruction” was McGuire’s one solo hit. Meanwhile Sloan’s peripatetic career included his authorship of “Secret Agent Man,” another huge hit song (as recorded by Johnny Rivers) that couldn’t have been further removed from his first smash in style and temperament. He passed away on November 15 at the age of 70. Yet every time global problems seem to be on full tilt, when that “fear and hypocrisy” clouds the air like smog, Sloan’s words rise again and “Eve Of Destruction” delivers its truth from the edge of oblivion.

Read the lyrics.