Good music will always come to people when they need it most, a wise man once said.

I’m paraphrasing Tom Petty there, and I’m sure he said it more eloquently, but hopefully I’ve captured the sentiment; if a record is good, it doesn’t matter when you discover it.

So it is with Buffalo Springfield’s debut album that sashayed into my life this past week, a mere 55 years after it was released.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, but it’s the first time I really connected with it.

I’m not sure what it says about the human condition that the song For What It’s Worth, a top 10 single back in 1967, written in response to a protest that turned violent after a nightclub closed on Sunset Strip, seems depressingly relevant for current times.

We’ve seen violence on the streets of Melbourne in the past month and I know I’m not the only person feeling worn down and defeated. It’s not just that everyone has taken a side … it’s that so many people feel the need to shout about it. It’s like we’ve forgotten our common humanity.

“There’s battle lines being drawn, nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong,” sang Stephen Stills back in 1966.

“Singing songs and carrying signs, mostly say hooray for our side.

“It’s time we stop, hey, what’s the sound. Everybody look what’s going down.”

There’s a lot going down, and I’ve played that song a over and over again this week. Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong.

In 2014, the song came in at number three on Rolling Stone Readers’ Best Protest Songs list. “Stephen Stills’ spooked voice, drummer Dewey Martin’s ominous snare drum and Neil Young’s warning-bell two-note guitar part”, were in part responsible for the impact of the track, said Rolling Stone’s David Browne.

The album’s arrangements sound a little dated (reportedly even the band was unhappy with the sound back in 1965) and some of the lyrics seem twee but there’s a handful of great songs – Burned, Do I Have to Come Right Out and Say It, and Sit Down, I Think I Love You – for starters.

Buffalo Springfield is probably best known for its volatile relationships, drug busts and deportations, as well as the careers of members after it disbanded, which were inextricably linked to the rise of the Southern California country rock sound. Stills and Young went onto bigger things, both with Crosby Still Nash and Young, and solo careers, while Richie Furay formed Poco. There’s a veritable warren of musical rabbit holes you can head down if you want to explore the legacy of Buffalo Springfield’s members.

But for now I’ll stay right here, For What’s It’s Worth.