What is this? A Buckminster Fuller-influenced statement on humanity? Maybe an opus about the elements? (There's a song called "Fire" and a verse about surfing.) Or maybe there's a clue in the perspective of the title art. Is this the Jefferson Starship coming back down to earth, or simply waving goodbye as the group is propelled into hyperspace for another Flashback Gordon fantasy?
it isn't. Instead, it's a collective of musicians, singers and composers, each tracking his or her own orbit. All mergers are momentary, the result of chance more than a creative master plan. Surprisingly, it's not the stars (Grace Slick, Marty Balin, Paul Kantner, Craig Chaquico) who keep things going, but the relatively anonymous asteroids—drummer Johnny Barbata, bassists/keyboardists Pete Sears and David Freiberg. Only the final track, "All Nite Long," reminds us what kind of a rock band the Starship used to be. And it's significant that "All Nite Long" is not only the sole song composed by the entire group, but also Paul Kantner's single major contribution to the album. To echo another space explorer, is this love or is it confusion?
Mostly the latter, though there are some fine cuts and expert performances here. In Jesse Barish, Balin has discovered the perfect writer for his fevered pop/R&B vocals. Barish's "Count on Me" and "Crazy Feelin'" are probably the LP's best songs. Both are terrific showcases for Balin and for the formidable keyboard talents of Pete Sears. In addition, "Count on Me" is the one track on Earth that gives Marty Balin and Grace Slick a chance to sing the soaring harmonies that are this band's only musical link with the Jefferson Airplane of yore.
Neither "Count on Me" nor "Crazy Feelin'" has much relationship to the rest of the record, and each is infinitely superior to the formulaic tedium of "Fire" and "Runaway," also sung by Balin. When Grace Slick steps front and center, you think you're on another planet. Two of the songs she sings were written by Craig Chaquico, the band's hot young guitarist. Elsewhere, Chaquico is clumsy—his wrongheaded guitar line nearly ruins "Fire" single-handedly—but as a songwriter, he sometimes gets by. Granted, "Love Too Good" is a mistake—Gene Page's horn and string charts are about as appropriate as a razor blade in an air lock—but as a conventional ballad, the tune might have worked if Slick had the voice for it. "Skateboard" is another matter, however. It's a tour de force for Slick's ranting, which with its usual sarcasm, neatly manages to undercut the song's cash-in novelty aspect. But would the Starship really be happy playing tours to skat
