Jefferson Airplane Quotes

Here is my room, in the yellow lamplight and the space heater rumbling: Indian rug red as Cochise's blood, a desk with seven mystic drawers, a chair covered in material as velvety blue-black as Batman's cape, an aquarium holding tiny fish so pale you could see their hearts beat, the aforementioned dresser covered with decals from Revell model airplane kits, a bed with a quilt sewn by a relative of Jefferson Davis's, a closet, and the shelves, oh, yes, the shelves. The troves of treasure. On those shelves are stacks of me: hundreds of comic books- Justice League, Flash, Green Lantern, Batman, the Spirit, Blackhawk, Sgt. Rock and Easy Company, Aquaman, and the Fantastic Four... The shelves go on for miles and miles. My collection of marbles gleams in a mason jar. My dried cicada waits to sing again in the summer. My Duncan yo-yo that whistles except the string is broken and Dad's got to fix it.

When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead And the white knight is talking backwards And the red queen's off with her head Remember what the dormouse said Feed your head, feed your head

In loyalty to their kind they cannot tolerate our rise; in loyalty to our kind, we cannot tolerate their obstruction. They are the crown of creation, they are ambition fulfilled — they have nowhere more to go. But life is change, that is how it differs from the rocks, change is its very nature

Read. You should read Bukowski and Ferlinghetti, read Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton, and listen to Coltrane, Nina Simone, Hank Williams, Loretta Lynn, Son House, Robert Johnson, Howlin’ Wolf, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Miles Davis, Lou Reed, Nick Drake, Bobbie Gentry, George Jones, Jimmy Reed, Odetta, Funkadelic, and Woody Guthrie. Drive across America. Ride trains. Fly to countries beyond your comfort zone. Try different things. Join hands across the water. Different foods. New tasks. Different menus and tastes. Talk with the guy who’s working in construction on your block, who’s working on the highway you’re traveling on. Speak with your neighbors. Get to know them. Practice civil disobedience. Try new resistance. Be part of the solution, not the problem. Don’t litter the earth, it’s the only one you have, learn to love her. Care for her. Learn another language. Trust your friends with kindness. You will need them one day. You will need earth one day. Do not fear death. There are worse things than death. Do not fear the reaper. Lie in the sunshine but from time to time let the neon light your way. ZZ Top, Jefferson Airplane, Spirit. Get a haircut. Dye your hair pink or blue. Do it for you. Wear eyeliner. Your eyes are the windows to your soul. Show them off. Wear a feather in your cap. Run around like the Mad Hatter. Perhaps he had the answer. Visit the desert. Go to the zoo. Go to a county fair. Ride the Ferris wheel. Ride a horse. Pet a pig. Ride a donkey. Protest against war. Put a peace symbol on your automobile. Drive a Volkswagen. Slow down for skateboarders. They might have the answers. Eat gingerbread men. Pray to the moon and the stars. God is out there somewhere. Don’t worry. You’ll find out where soon enough. Dance. Even if you don’t know how to dance. Read The Four Agreements. Read the Bible. Read the Bhagavad Gita. Join nothing. It won’t help. No games, no church, no religion, no yellow-brick road, no way to Oz. Wear beads. Watch a caterpillar in the sun.

This fusion of flower power and processor power, enlightenment and technology, was embodied by Steve Jobs as he meditated in the mornings, audited physics classes at Stanford, worked nights at Atari, and dreamed of starting his own business. “There was just something going on here,” he said, looking back at the time and place. “The best music came from here—the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, Joan Baez, Janis Joplin—and so did the integrated circuit, and things like the Whole Earth Catalog.

The Jefferson Airplane’s Paul Kantner—San Francisco homeboy, and a shrewd product of Bay Area Catholic schools—got it. “The difference between San Francisco and Berkeley was that Berkeley complained about a lot of things. Rather than complaining about things, we San Franciscans formed an alternative reality to live in. And for some reason, we got away with it. San Francisco became somewhere you did things rather than protesting about them. We knew we didn’t have to speechify about what we should and shouldn’t do. We just did.

one begins to read between the pages of a look, the shape of sleepy music and suddenly you're hooked ...

Feed your head!

Today" Today, I feel like pleasing you More than before Today, I know what I want to do But I don't know what for To be living for you Is all I want to do To be loving you It'll all be there When my dreams come true Today, you'll make me say That I somehow have changed Today, you'll look into my eyes I'm just not the same To be any more than all I am Would be a lie I'm so full of love I could burst apart And start to cry Today, everything you want I swear it all will come true Today, I realize how much I'm in love with you With you standing here I could tell the world What it means to love To go on from here I can't use words They don't say enough Please, please listen to me It's taken so long to come true It's all for you, all for you Jefferson Airplane, Surrealistic Pillow (1967)

Then the center of influence shifted to London, with the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, Cream, the Who, the Kinks, and all the bands that orbited them. San Francisco, with the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, and Santana, had its moment in a psychedelic spotlight around the Summer of Love and the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967, but as the 1960s gave way to the '70s, the center of the musical universe shifted unmistakably to Los Angeles. "It was incredibly vital," said Jonathan Taplin, who first came to LA as the tour manager for Bob Dylan and the Band and later relocated there to produce Martin Scorsese's breakthrough movie, Mean Streets. "The nexus of the music business had really moved from New York to Los Angeles. That had been a profound shift . . . It was very clear that something big had changed."'' For a breathtaking few years, the stars aligned to glittering effect in Los Angeles. The city attracted brilliant artists; skilled session musicians; soulful songwriters; shrewd managers, agents, and record executives; and buzz-building clubs. From this dense constellation of talent, a shimmering new sound emerged, a smooth blend of rock and folk with country influences. Talented young people from all over the country began descending on Los Angeles with their guitar cases or dreams of becoming the next Geffen. Irving Azoff, a hyper-ambitious young agent and manager who arrived in Los Angeles in 1972, remembered, "It was like the gold rush. You've never seen anything like it in the entertainment business. The place was exploding. I was here—right place, right time. I tell everybody, `If you're really good in this business, you only have to be right once,' so you kind of make your own luck, but it is luck, too. It was hard to be in LA in that time and have any talent whatsoever in the music business—whether you were a manager, an agent, an artist, a producer, or writer—[and] not to make it, because it was boom times. It was the gold rush, and it was fucking fun.

For a while it was funny,” Stevie says, “but then personally I really started to get angry, because I live a very quiet life. I’m either working or I’m home and all of a sudden I’m picking up these papers and I’m the Siren of the North.” Seemingly attempting to set the record straight, she adds, “Don Henley [of the Eagles] are friends. We’re not into a heavy romantic relationship. How can we be? We’re always on the road. And Paul Kantner [of Jefferson Airplane/Starship fame]—I never went out with him. He called me a couple of times, but basically I wasn’t interested. I don’t even like rock ‘n’ roll stars,” she groans. “I especially don’t like men rock ‘n’ roll stars, mainly because they’re just too egoed-out. And I don’t need it. I don’t need to go out with rock ‘n’ roll stars for their money. I’ve got my own money. I’ve gone through it and I didn’t like it and I won’t do it again. It’s like that lady onstage—I can’t hold a candle to her if that’s what they want.

Today I feel like pleasing you more than before Today I know what I want to do but I don't know what for To be living for you is all I want to do To be loving you it'll all be there when my dreams come true Today you'll make me say that I somehow have changed Today you'll look into my eyes, I'm just not the same To be anymore than all I am would be a lie I'm so full of love I could burst apart and start to cry Today everything you want, I swear it all will come true Today I realize how much I'm in love with you With you standing here I could tell the world what it means to love To go on from here I can't use words, they don't say enough Please, please listen to me It's taken so long to come true And it's all for you all for you....

the meditation room in back. The main room has shelves of books on mysticism, spirituality, metaphysics, philosophy, Eastern religion, illustrated sex texts, mind-expansion through drugs; separate stands for the bestselling quarterly Psychedelic Review, hardcover and paperback volumes of Timothy Leary’s The Psychedelic Experience, and Aldous Huxley’s The Doors of Perception; long glass cabinets and lacquered burl tables stocked with recreational drug paraphernalia; bins of bootlegged tapes from the Dead, Hendrix, Cream, Jefferson Airplane, the Beatles, and Dylan; potted plants growing lush throughout—ferns, ficus, creeping Charlie, and philodendron.

Jealous—Labrinth when the party’s over—Billie Eilish White Rabbit—Jefferson Airplane Piano Man—Billy Joel Iris—The Goo Goo Dolls To Build a Home—The Cinematic Orchestra The Good Side—Troye Sivan Nevermind—Dennis Lloyd What It’s Like—Everlast Hi-Lo (Hollow)—Bishop Briggs bury a friend—Billie Eilish Sorry—Halsey

The Monterey Pop Festival, held June 16 through 18 at the seaside town’s fairgrounds, proved to be a seminal event in rock history. Considering the hoopla it generated, especially after the release of filmmaker D. A. Pennebaker’s marvelous documentary, it should have boosted Nyro to celebrity status. It certainly did so for Jefferson Airplane, Big Brother and the Holding Company, and Jimi Hendrix. But instead, not only was Nyro absent from the film Monterey Pop—at her own request, according to Pennebaker—but the festival proved more a setback than a launch.

Lennon was – whether by luck, accident or perceptive foresight – at the forefront of the psychedelic era’s passion for rose-tinted introspection, which channelled the likes of children’s literature, Victorian fairgrounds and circuses, and an innocent sense of wonder. McCartney, too, moved with the times when writing his children’s singalong Yellow Submarine. Among the hippie era’s other moments of nostalgia were Pink Floyd’s Bike and The Gnome from their debut album Piper At The Gates Of Dawn, recorded at EMI Studios as the Beatles worked on Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band; Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit, laid down in 1966 but released in the same month as Sgt Pepper, and which drew from Lewis Carroll’s Alice stories just as Lennon did; and many more, from Tiny Tim’s Tiptoe Through The Tulips to Traffic’s psychedelic fantasy Hole In My Shoe. The Beatles continued writing songs evoking childhood to the end of their days. Sgt Pepper – itself a loose concept album harking back to earlier, more innocent times – referenced Lewis Carroll (Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds), youthful anticipation of old age (When I’m Sixty-Four), a stroll down memory lane (Good Morning Good Morning), and the sensory barrage of a circus big top extravaganza (Being For The Benefit Of Mr Kite!). It was followed by Magical Mystery Tour and Yellow Submarine, two films firmly pitched at the widest possible audience. A splendid time was, indeed, guaranteed for all.

CD. The Summer of Love. The Mamas and the Papas, Jefferson Airplane, Big Brother and the Holding Company.

Meanwhile, there was a curious new social phenomenon. In a 1967 cover story titled “The Hippies,” Time magazine described the mostly white, middle-class, and well-educated young people who were “dropping out,” rejecting college and traditional job paths in favor of seeking love, peace, and enlightenment—partly by experimenting with hallucinogenic drugs like marijuana and LSD. Getting their nickname from the 1950s beatnik term “hip” or “hipster,” these hippies dressed in wildly colorful clothes, listened to “acid rock” like Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead, and wore their hair long. The epicenter of the movement was the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood in nearby San Francisco.