Celebrating PF Sloan: Listen to our interview and his classic music

PF Sloan — the legendary musician, songwriter, arranger and producer — died this week on Nov. 15, of pancreatic cancer. He wrote or co-wrote some of the greatest pop and protest songs of the 1960’s, and was a key figure in the exciting Los Angeles music scene of that time.

I conducted this archived interview with Sloan at KCRW in 2006, which coincided with the release of his album “Sailover.” We talked about his colorful career and the timeless songs that he wrote for The Turtles, Barry McGuire, The Grass Roots, Johnny Rivers and The Searchers.

Check out the lyrics of his “Eve Of Destruction.” Its as timely today as it was in 1965, if not more so:

The eastern world, it is exploding

Violence flarin’, bullets loadin’

You’re old enough to kill, but not for votin’

You don’t believe in war, but what’s that gun you’re totin’

And even the Jordan River has bodies floatin’

But you tell me

Over and over and over again, my friend

Ah, you don’t believe

We’re on the eve

of destruction.

PF Sloan

Don’t you understand what I’m tryin’ to say

Can’t you feel the fears I’m feelin’ today?

If the button is pushed, there’s no runnin’ away

There’ll be no one to save, with the world in a grave

[Take a look around ya boy, it’s bound to scare ya boy]

And you tell me

Over and over and over again, my friend

Ah, you don’t believe

We’re on the eve

of destruction.

Yeah, my blood’s so mad feels like coagulatin’

I’m sitting here just contemplatin’

I can’t twist the truth, it knows no regulation.

Handful of senators don’t pass legislation

And marches alone can’t bring integration

When human respect is disintegratin’

This whole crazy world is just too frustratin’

And you tell me

Over and over and over again, my friend

Ah, you don’t believe

We’re on the eve

of destruction.

Think of all the hate there is in Red China

Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama

You may leave here for 4 days in space

But when you return, it’s the same old place

The poundin’ 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

And, tell me over and over and over and over again, my friend

You don’t believe

We’re on the eve

Of destruction

Mm, no no, you don’t believe

We’re on the eve

of destruction.