Climate change is no laughing matter, but one Maine folk group is proving that it can be a powerful muse. GoldenOak, a band with a unique mission, is turning the world’s climate grief into hauntingly beautiful songs that resonate with listeners far and wide. But here’s where it gets controversial: can music really make a difference in the fight against climate change? Or is it just another drop in the ocean of activism?
Writing songs about climate change is no easy feat, as Zak Kendall, the band’s main lyricist, can attest. ‘It was intimidating at first,’ Zak admits. ‘Love songs and pop hits have a formula, but climate change? That’s uncharted territory for most musicians.’ Yet, GoldenOak has not only embraced this challenge but thrived, amassing over 20,000 monthly Spotify listeners and a top song with more than 300,000 streams. Their success is no fluke—their previous project even snagged the EP of the Year award at the Portland Music Awards.
Formed in 2016, GoldenOak consists of siblings Zak and Lena Kendall, bassist Mike Knowles, and drummer Jackson Cromwell. Zak’s background in human ecology, studied at the College of the Atlantic, deeply informs his songwriting. Between classes, he juggled climate science, environmental activism, and a growing passion for music. After graduating, he became the executive director of Maine Youth for Climate Justice, but it wasn’t until he noticed themes of displacement, violent storms, and dying forests creeping into his lyrics that he realized music could be his most powerful tool for change.
GoldenOak isn’t alone in this musical movement. Artists like AJR and Grammy-winner Jon Batiste have also tackled climate change in their work. ‘As an artist, you have to make a statement,’ Batiste said in an interview with Covering Climate Now. ‘Music has the power to bring people together, and that’s how we change the world.’ Batiste’s song ‘Petrichor’ is a prime example—a danceable track with a dire warning. GoldenOak takes it a step further, weaving climate urgency into the rich tapestry of folk tradition.
Their first climate-focused album, Room to Grow, is a ten-song call to action. Take ‘Ash,’ for instance, where Zak frames the loss of ash trees as a bittersweet breakup song. It’s a farewell to a species that once thrived in Maine’s forests, now threatened by the emerald ash borer. The album is largely somber, exploring ecological loss, activist anthems, and moments of despair. But their most popular track, ‘little light,’ offers a glimmer of hope, celebrating renewable energy and indigenous wisdom.
‘Music can be a powerful form of activism,’ Zak explains. ‘But it’s a delicate balance. Too much data, and it feels like a lecture. Too personal, and it loses its universal appeal.’ This tension is evident in their latest album, All the Light in Autumn, released in December 2023. The cover features ten birds, each representing a song that tackles themes from ecological loss to the political forces driving climate change. Tracks like ‘The Flood’ and ‘All the Birds’ revisit familiar sorrow, while others critique capitalism, environmental inequity, and the myth of the American dream.
‘People kept asking if this album would be about climate change,’ Zak recalls. ‘The answer is always yes, because climate change is inescapable—it touches everything.’ Folk music has long addressed environmental themes, from coal mining ballads to songs about scarred landscapes. But as climate impacts intensify, more artists are joining the chorus, even in mainstream pop.
‘Music helps people process their emotions about climate change,’ says Fabian Holt, a climate and culture scholar. ‘But it’s also a tool for mobilization.’ For GoldenOak, writing songs isn’t enough. They actively use their platform to promote voting, amplify protests, and even perform at rallies. Onstage, Zak and Lena dedicate their most beloved songs to activists and frontline communities, their lyrics a testament to hope in the face of adversity. As the crowd hums along, it’s clear: music can transform shared grief into collective action.
But here’s the question: Can a song really change the world? Or is it just a bandaid on a bullet wound? Let us know in the comments—we want to hear your thoughts. And this is the part most people miss: music isn’t just entertainment; it’s a mirror reflecting our deepest fears and highest hopes. What do you think? Can art truly spark revolution?
This story is published in partnership with Inside Climate News, a nonprofit, independent news organization dedicated to covering climate, energy, and the environment.
