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Sad because seeing Slick and Paul Kantner on stage reminded one of the innocence lost since the days of flower power and acid rock in San Francisco. Dazzling because the Jefferson Airplane has grown into a Starship that is taking off in a slightly different direction.
For those too young or too old to recall, The Jefferson Airplane was the symbol of the flower generation that flourished in the San Francisco Bay in the mid to late 1960s. Social and politcal protest and drugs were the keys to their music as they were the keys to the youth culture that grew up in northern California.
The Airplane agonized over the war in Vietnam, gave free concerts in parks and were more like good friends than rock stars to the hippies who flocked to the West Coast.
Now the Jefferson Starship has emerged. Kantner and Slick are the only regular members of the Airplane left, but their magic is still there.
Gracie Slick, the queen mother of rock, was her usual irrepressible self Friday night. The years haven't been totally kind to her. Her model's figure is gone and middle age has a firm grip on her.
But her raucous stage manners, her flip chatter in between songs and her casual bopping around the stage still weave a spell over an audience.
It isn't Gracie the rock star up there on stage. It is Gracie the wise cracking, relaxed mistress of ceremonies directing the band, bowing to the drummer after his solo, making sound adjustments with the sound mixing board. She kept up a steady line of bantner with the front rows, just like the old days at the Filmore West.
Miss Slick's voice is still right on the mark, blending with Kantner's in that special way that was an Airplane trademark.
Grace Slick the blues singer emerged as something new as she teamed with Papa John Creach, perhaps the oldest rock musician alive, and Pete Sears for some smoldering numbers. (Creach's age isn't certain but you don't see many bald rock musicians.)
The Starship misses some of the old Airplane members. Marty Balin would be missed by any band. But Friday night's concert gave evidence that the Starship is not a meteorite that will quickly fall to earth.
It has a little more blues than the Airplane. Most important, it has Gracie Slick and when she cranks up the old favorites, "Somebody to Love" and "Volunteers" it is so good.
The new Starship thrust into the Arena on the 15th, melding their powerful sound into the same forceful music tht the old Airplane is still delightfully remembered for. Unfortunately, there were also some of the age old misgivings about a group and the show, that kept it from landing in a musical Utopia.
One, the backup band was Triumvirat, back for its second date in three weeks. They performed the exact same set as at the Riverside with a little more polish and better riff work from drummer Hans Batheit. Their studio-like precision seemed overly sterile the second time, and by the time the audience had warmed up to them, they were starting to grow bored by the long uninterruped songs and the lack of a show.
Jefferson Starship, on the other ear, exhibited a stage presence with fluidity and relaxation, and slowly built the mood to a rare intensity by the encore of their long set. It is not often that a band is able to get Milwaukee leadbutts on their feet, stomping and clapping, especially at the Arena.
Of course, the tremendous G-force was what propulsed the reaction, perhaps inconsistent with physics, as Gracie Slick took control of the helm. She, looking lighter and colorfully clad in a flowing orange and black flowered kimono-type gown (with rockable rice paddy clogs to boot), sang, talking, and joked with enchanting rapport.
The other star of the seven member ship that commandeered the respect and admiration of the full house was the amazingly deceptive violinist, Papa John Creach. He stood stone solid during the sound delay, as if he were a 75 year old mannequin. But once the set started with "Ride the Tiger," he loosed to a bowing and rocking agility and enthusiasm more befitting his oft time dueling partner, 20 year old lead guitarist Craig Chaquico.
For those who haven't kept up with the constant personnel changes, the remainder of the touring and apparently semi-permanent lineup is: Original member, rhythm guitarist, vocalist and composer Paul Kantner, father of Grace's child, satisfied to be reserved and out of the limelight. Other Airplane carryovers included vocal, keyboard and bassist David Freiberg (Quicksilver), and drummer John Barbata (Turtles).
Recent Starship joiners Pete Sears, bass and keyboards, and Chaquico round out the sound that ranged effectively from bluesy or mellow to heavy rocking, the earliest evidence of that found in their reconstruction of "Wooden Ships." Sears handled the low frequencies with a booming variability, but Chaquico dwelled too long too often on his basic progressions and digressionss up and down the neck. Using only three fingers during his lead breaks limited his range, but his interplays with Creach projected an emotion and euphoria beyond the scope of mere instrumentation.
Once Grace got things rolling, the whole band was sucked into the positive vibrations, generating the kind of happy energy associated with playing for fun, as opposed to working for money. Those vibes were epitomized in Slick's enjoyment taken in trading licks and barks with a loudmouthed fan who repeatedly requested "Across the Board." "Hey, we got ten albums and we can only practice so many songs," was her reply. "Besides, I can't play piano and sing at the same time." Also quoted was a "Are all you kids takin your bennies?-don't." Besides a better than fair Burt Reynolds imitation.
The selection of tunes was wide, though most all of the new Dragonfly found its way in. The highlight tunes, taken on the basis of standing ovations, were Papa John's "Down Home Blues," "Milk Train," featuring Papa John and Gracie pitting violin against vocals, "Starship," as the end of the complete Side Two off Blows Against the Empire, and of course the encores, "Somebody to Love" and "Volunteers."
The only lowlights were two sound system problems one at the beginning and ther other a third into the set, some rough transitions during the breaks, and almost uniform endings to many of the songs.
The times are less political, the crowds are less volatile, but the ability of Grace Slick and the Jeffersons to project that magical San Franciscan sound and spirit hasn't changed.
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