This year I'm going to try to take a journey through different musical tastes I've had... from turntables (more on that later) through cassettes to CDs. I'll try to hit one a month--are these the best 12 albums from the best 12 artists ever? It's all subjective. But each rings with me in some way that makes me bring it to this page...and if these make you think of Def Leppard's Pyromania or Franz Ferdinand's You Could Have it So Better with a different ear, then perhaps you can make your own list as well.
The first album I remember as a kid was Jefferson Airplane's Surrealistic Pillow. I also remember being scolded for almost ruining my parent's turntable. You see, Pillow led off with "She has Funny Cars"... and while a great song, it wasn't nearly the monster ear candy "Somebody to Love" was-- then, now or forever. Naturally when a three year old learns you can press play... then lift the needle and move it one song in- you can hear your favorite song. And once it's done? Press stop-- that ends the record and then you can repeat the process. Again and again. At first my dad was pleased his son liked Jefferson Airplane. Then he was amused I had learned how to manipulate his record player. Then he wondered about the wear and tear on the record and turntable I was causing...: "David--once you start playing a record you've got to let it play through." Thank goodness for CDs.
Chemistry goes a long way towards a group's success. Thank goodness good chemistry isn't a requirement-- otherwise Jefferson Airplane would have never gotten off the ground. On paper these five were a disaster waiting to happen. A group leader who hated sharing the spotlight. A female songstress who stole the spotlight and not only didn't know her place in a man's world but also brought two HUGE songs that outshone anything anyone else in the band had written. A drummer whose main attribute was that he was sleeping with the lead singer. A rhythm guitarist who wished he was sleeping with the lead singer. A bassist who was primarily a guitarist. A lead guitarist who was primarily interested not in rock but in folk and jazz. Can anyone say spontaneous combustion?
Side one begins with the song I skipped all those years ago--and one can hear the off kilter energy from Spencer Dryden's opening drumbeat...singers and instruments join together yet in different directions. Marty Balin while dominating the lead vocal is joined at the mic by Grace Slick and Paul Kantner-- and although the future couple has a supporting role in the song one can hear them slowly chip away at Marty's supremacy in the band. Jorma Koukanen and Jack Casady as always provide the guitar-bass foundation everyone else bounces off of.
"Somebody to Love"-- instantly recognizable... Grace takes the spotlight and doesn't give it up until the late 80's. She also sang solo lead on side two anchor "White Rabbit"... and it's hard to imagine Surrealistic Pillow-- or Jefferson Airplane-- without either song. Yet both were songs she was already performing with her group Great Society when she joined Airplane.
Other highlights include "Today"-- Marty's heartfelt ballad that stops time completely... "D.C.B.A 25"-- an unasumming seduction that pairs Grace and Paul (little did she know how into her he was and how into him she'd eventually be)... "Embryonic Journey"-- Jorma's first ever composition, an instrumental that doesn't wear out its welcome... and "Plastic Fantastic Lover"-- Marty's side two ender about a television set.
All these years later the progression still blows me away-- the perfect recipe of five unique ingredients and not one mistep along the way. I've always likened a good album to an incredible journey- and from start to finish you don't want to get off. Thanks Dad-- for making me listen all the way through.
P.S... I never saw Jefferson Airplane nor Jefferson Starship in concert-- instead I caught "Starship" in the late 80's in wake of the suckitude of "We Built this City"...also singing songs like "Beat Patrol" and "It's Not Over (til it's over)"... a far cry from greatness-- singing about mannequins and Marco playing mamba. Who counts the money, indeed.
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