This is what I'll be submitting later today:
“33 1/3” Series Proposal: Jefferson Starship, Red Octopus
Submitted November 30, 2005
By Joseph McCombs
1. An Outline of What I Want to Say, and How:
By the early 1970s, the members of the Jefferson Airplane were releasing increasingly erratic and fragmented records to an increasingly diminishing audience. 1972’s Long John Silver, the last studio record bearing the group’s original name (save for a 1989 reunion album), was lambasted for its indifferent songcraft; the following year’s Baron Von Tollbooth and the Chrome Nun, credited to principal players Paul Kantner and Grace Slick plus Marty Balin replacement David Freiberg, was an embarrassingly low charter; and Slick’s 1974 “solo” LP was a bizarre effort, counting among its six tracks an instrumental, another song altogether absent her, and an album closer that relegated her to suppressed backing vocals. It seemed the band’s impact, culturally and commercially, was on an irreversible downward slide.
1974’s Dragon Fly album began to reverse these fortunes, on the heels of “Ride the Tiger,” Kantner’s most focused pop song in years and a surprise charting single, and a seven-minute collaboration with former member Balin called “Caroline” that helped return the group to FM radio playlists. The record, released under the new, optimistic moniker of Jefferson Starship, went gold and suggested that there might yet be some creative juices flowing among the aging rockers.
But nothing could have foretold the comeback that would commence in 1975. (Save for Kantner’s incantation on “Ride the Tiger” to “look to the summer of ’75/All the world is gonna come alive.”) Balin was unexpectedly convinced to rejoin the band as a full-time member, and the now eight-piece outfit found its once splintering crew collaborating free and easy on a set of brisk love songs. “It’s a vehicle that people get on,” Kantner would explain of the Starship, “embark and go to a destination and then get off.” For this album, everyone was on, and working together. “Maybe everybody just felt good for a while,” even the normally sardonic Slick had to acknowledge.
That album of love songs, Red Octopus, became the group’s biggest hit to date, propelled by Balin’s most ambitious and most fully realized song of his career, the #3 smash “Miracles.” Balin’s contributions to Red Octopus were his most extensive on a Jefferson Whatever album since 1967’s Surrealistic Pillow, and would decisively point the group in the direction of MOR balladry for the next few years.
Subsequent Jefferson Starship albums sold well and produced their share of tasty hit singles. But none of their records ever matched Red Octopus’s cohesion, verbal playfulness, instrumental and vocal intricacy, or cultural and commercial impact (the album hit #1 on four separate occasions that year, and Balin’s blatant celebration of cunnilingus on “Miracles” remains a delicious sedition against Top 40 values). Red Octopus had one other interesting and unintended effect as well: Its success pioneered the notion that a rock group approaching middle age (Slick turned 36 during the album’s chart run) could be a successful touring band, integral to making “rockers for life” a viable option for CSNY, the Stones, the Who, and others.
My intent with turning the Red Octopus story into an entry in the “33 1/3” series is to recap the band’s underexplored history from Balin’s 1970 departure to his return (only ardent JA/JS fans know what happened between Volunteers and Red Octopus), briefly discuss the successes of the 1974 Dragon Fly album, and use that discussion as a launching pad to reviewing the making and impact of the Red Octopus album. Drawing on my own lifelong deep immersion in the group’s work, Jeff Tamarkin’s band biography Got a Revolution!, and what I hope will be numerous interviews with band members and others involved with the making of the album, I will offer a vibrant retelling of how the songs were written and recorded, how the record was received by critics and the public, and how it’s assessed today, particularly in light of its 30th anniversary reissue with bonus tracks this fall. Insufficient light has been shone on the Jefferson Starship’s impressive 1970s output, and I wish to make some measure of correction with this book. I feel this will fit in perfectly with “33 1/3” ’s mission of telling the stories behind remarkable albums while addressing what I see as one of the series’ few drawbacks: minimal coverage of the albums of the mid ’70s, an era all too often written off as one of trash singles and little more.
2. A Few Words About Myself: I’m a music journalist, trivioso, and aspirant historian with a particular bent toward the pop music of the late 1960s through mid 1970s, and a particular interest within that time frame of the recorded output of the Jefferson Airplane and Jefferson Starship. Years of reading extensively about them and listening closely to all the albums in their broad repertoire have given me a strong degree of expertise in their story, manifested so far by reviews of several of their albums for the All Music Guide. My writings in recent years include over 100 AMG reviews, hundreds of indie artist reviews for musician development website StarPolish.com, over 100 concert listings and several features for the Village Voice alt-weekly, and an extended paper that I presented at this year’s Experience Music Project Pop Conference in Seattle.
3. A Bit About the Series: I wouldn’t compare the books in the “33 1/3” series to each other, as they’ve been written with different tactics and different intents. But Michaelangelo Matos’s swirling track-by-track investigation of Prince’s Sign ‘O’ the Times with extensive backstory especially succeeded in its mission: It convinced me to go back and listen to the album with a fresh and eager pair of ears, and I found I appreciated it far better than I ever had before. I hope to do the same for readers with a lively recap and critique of the Red Octopus album.
4. An Estimate of My Timeline: It took me five weeks to write a 4,500-word paper (while working a full-time day job and freelancing as a part-time copy editor) for presentation at the EMP Pop Conference this spring, which included time for research as well as wordcraft. As I no longer have the day job, I can work more regularly and more efficiently on this novella, which will involve less background research but more time devoted to interviews. Including the time necessary to garner interviews with first- and second-hand sources, I would put myself on a schedule to complete the book in 25 weeks from the date of being given the go-ahead. However, if an alternate time frame is needed or desired to ensure the volume’s success, I can adapt my plans to the needs of you and Continuum.
Thank you for considering me for possible inclusion in the “33 1/3” roster. I am confident that my contribution to it will be an engaging and informative addition to the series, and I look forward to hearing from you in January. Please feel free to contact me in the meantime with any questions regarding my proposal.
Sincerely,
Joseph McCombs.
