Talk about your Red Menaces. I have long believed that Jefferson Starship’s Red Octopus was the product of a fifth column of CIA agents designed to sap the intelligence of the American counterculture. Then again, I’ve never liked Grace Slick and always thought the highlight of Marty Balin’s career was getting smacked in the kisser by angry Hell’s Angels at Altamont.
But here’s the surprise. Relistening to 1975’s Red Octopus after decades, what strikes me is how listenable it is, despite all the latter-day hippie bullshit the Jefferson Starship lays on you. Their futuristic spoutings on Universal Love—they’re riding on a starship, after all—are off-putting, to say the least. But on Red Octopus they come up with a parcel of songs most of which are good enough to allow you to ignore the words, which are mostly Aquarian crapola well past its sell-by date.
The LP’s chief advantage is its fast tempos. It’s a bona fide rock album, with the exception of “Miracles,” “Tumblin’,” and the closing cut, “There Will Be Love.” Opener “Fast Buck Freddie” is a cool tune, thanks largely to the sound of Papa John Creach’s electric violin, Craig Chaquico’s guitar, and Grace Slick’s thin and icy vocals. “How long?” she asks, “Until we take it back,” and I’m assuming she means taking it back from the man, although I don’t know what “it” is. But it doesn’t matter much because the song, which moves like quicksilver, is so good.
As for “Miracles,” its opening is pure space-age hoodoo, leading to a slow and soulful number with Balin—who had just returned to the band after a 4-year hiatus—taking the lead and Irv Cox delivering on a happening saxophone solo towards the end. In its own way, “Miracles” mines the same Philly soul territory David Bowie was exploring on Young Americans, sans Bowie’s skill at writing lyrics. But what am I saying? Not even Bowie could have bequeathed us a lyric as inspirationally dumb as Balin’s, “I had a taste of the real world/When I went down on you girl.” That’s some true dunderheaded genius right there, is what it is.
“Git Fiddler” is a jazzy hoedown that focuses on the violin of Creach, although Chaquico and bassist/keyboardist Pete Sears also take their turns on guitar and electric piano, respectively. On some alternative planet, this song is playing at an Amish barn dance. “Ai Garimasũ (There Is Love)” starts on an unpromising note but morphs into a lovely track featuring Slick on vocals. Chaquico tosses off a nice solo, then Slick soars, showing off her formidable vocal chops before Chaquico comes back in to accompany her with some formidable guitar wank as the song comes to a close. Good stuff.
Also good is “Sweeter Than Honey,” a straight-up rocker, with Creach and Chaquico demonstrating mad skills while Sears throws in on piano. It gets wilder and wilder as it goes on, Paul Kantner (I think) getting downright nasty on vocals. “Play on Love” is funky and organ and violin dominated, and boasts an excellent melody, to say nothing of a fine, fine chorus. That organ kicks ass, as does Slick on vocals, and Chaquico’s solo is jazzy and tres hep. But the song is Slick’s, and she pulls it off with aplomb.
“Tumblin’” is a slow-paced cut featuring Balin, while Creach and Sears provide background. Can’t say I’m crazy about it, in fact I dislike it, although the chorus is nice, as are Slick’s backing vocals and the long Chaquico solo that takes the song out. “I Want to See Another World” is one cool customer, with its hard-edged guitar riffs, Creach violin runs, and group vocals. Chaquico lays down a couple of vicious solos, before the band goes into a transcendental passage that could wreck the song but doesn’t.
Next up is “Sandalphon,” an instrumental that opens ominously on a Renaissance Faire note only to morph into a long demonstration of Sears’ stately organ and piano chops. It may well be the most listenable prog song I’ve ever heard, especially when Chaquico comes in to play some nimble guitar, adding a nice counterpoint to Sears’ piano. This is a Charlie Brown song for hippies, and it’s guaranteed to calm the nerves of all those bad trip casualties in the freak-out tent.
“There Will Be Love” also has a prog feel to it, but its chief crime is being boring. Balin moans and you’ll moan too, although things pick up toward the song’s mid-section, when Balin and Slick sing in tandem. And the song gains speed at about the same time, and boasts a jazzy feel thanks to Chaquico’s guitar. What the song really needs is Creach’s violin, but we’re left with Slick’s soaring vocals, which don’t quite make up for the tune’s shortcomings.
Red Octopus marked the Jefferson Starship’s move towards the middle of the road, as personified by 1976’s Spitfire, which boasts a truly horrific tune in “With Your Love,” to say nothing of the noxious proto-disco tune “Love Lovely Love.” And as for “Song to the Sun,” all I can say is run, and don’t look back. Everybody knows what happened after that. The Jefferson Starship went steadily downhill—with the exception of the hilariously titled “Stairway to Cleveland”—shortened its name to Starship, and hit rock bottom with 1985’s “We Built This City,” which may well be the stupidest rock song ever written.
But on Red Octopus they got it right. I know, I know, it’s hard to believe. But they did. Not bad for a bunch of atavistic hippies obsessed with the vagaries of Universal Love. It looks like the CIA’s devious plan to soften the brains of the counterculture worked after all.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
