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Grace Barnett Slick (born October 30, 1939)[1] is an American singer-songwriter, musician, artist, and former model, widely known in rock and roll history for her role in San Francisco's burgeoning psychedelic music scene in the mid-1960s. Her music career spanned four decades. She performed with The Great Society, Jefferson Airplane, Jefferson Starship, and Starship. She also had a sporadic solo career. Slick provided vocals on a number of iconic songs, including "Somebody to Love," "White Rabbit," "We Built This City," and "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now."
Grace Slick - Wikipedia
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Grace Slick on Late Night, January 10, 1983
Grace Slick's first of three appearances on Late Night.
Thank you my friend Maj Marty Hogan for making us aware that October 30 is the anniversary of the birth of American singer-songwriter, musician, artist, and former model Grace Barnett Slick "widely known in rock and roll history for her role in San Francisco's burgeoning psychedelic music scene in the mid-1960s" as she "performed with The Great Society, Jefferson Airplane, Jefferson Starship, and Starship"
Of the bands she played with I only enjoyed Jefferson Airplane which was raw and not overproduced like Jefferson Starship, and Starship.
Images: 2012 Grace Slick painting
Happy 79th Birthday Grace Barnett Slick.
Background from vanityfair.com/news/2012/06/jefferson-airplane-grace-slick-drugs-painting
"JEFFERSON AIRPLANE’S GRACE SLICK ON AGING ROCK STARS AND LIFE AS A PAINTER
BY MICKEY STANLEY
JUNE 15, 2012 11:00 AM
By 1967, restless American youth had found somebody to love in Grace Slick, whose trippy onstage provocations, beautiful looks, and outlier attitude shone bright during the Summer of Love. As Vanity Fair contributing editor Sheila Weller, who interviewed Slick for “Suddenly That Summer,” in the July issue, recalls, “Every American female over the age of 14 wanted to be Grace.” By the mid-80s, however, Jefferson Airplane had become Jefferson Starship and Slick had sobered up to find herself singing marijuana songs in a cocaine decade. VF Daily caught up with the hilarious former acid rocker, now painting voraciously at her tropical Malibu getaway, who told us about aging, art, and the evils of alcohol.
__VF Daily:__What are you painting now?
Grace Slick: I’m working on something as we speak. It’s an old lady, me, looking out of a window. It’s a situation of aging and death. Old people don’t look good unless you really fuck with yourself and go to a plastic surgeon and do all that kind of stuff, and then you look like a freak. But nobody looks good when they get old. Yeah, you’re getting older, but what the hell can you do about it? Nothing. So you may as well ignore it as best you can and just be who you are, be who you were, be who you continue to be.
How does the old lady represent you?
Even though aging incapacitates [the old woman], she’s still a relatively happy camper. That is not the situation with all old people. Some are annoyed, but I’m not. Her appreciation is mine, her aging is mine, but she could’ve been miserable, and I also don’t want to encourage that. She is still engaged, and I’d like to encourage that in people who are getting older.
Watch Now:
“Anger Is a Gorgeous Life Force”: Alanis Morissette and Diablo Cody on Tackling Healing Through Art
How long have you been painting?
I’ve been painting consistently for about 14 years. For a while when the economy wasn’t as screwed up as it is now, I got paid well. Now, I’m better at it, but the economy is terrible. I fit into a category of middle class, possibly close to upper-middle class, people who can’t really afford to throw money around anymore. The people who buy Van Gogh, Monet, Rembrandt, all those hot shots, those are usually corporations who buy them, or somebody like Rupert Murdoch who is just rolling around in money. But my area is not in that category.
When did you change careers?
I left rock and roll professionally at about 49. That’s too long as far as I’m concerned. Some people can do it; it depends on what you were. If you were pretty and young and wore short skirts and were busy trying to be sexy and all that shit at 25, it worked. If you’re 50, it doesn’t work quite as well. Through your life, most people peel away the junk that’s not useful, that’s superfluous. You are determined to peel that away. I do one thing at a time. One man at a time. One car. One house. One child. One job. Jerry Garcia used to take his paints on the road. I don’t do that. Either I’m a singer or a painter. I’m not good at multi-tasking.
Is there any reason you left?
You can do any number of things in the music business aside from trying to look like you’re 25. To me it’s embarrassing. I realized that during the 80s. In the 80s we weren’t writing our own songs. It was like being in L.A. rather than San Francisco. I like to write my own stuff or have the band members write their own stuff, and we weren’t doing that. I was in my 40s and I remember thinking, God, this is just awful. But I was such an asshole for a while, I was trying to make up for it by being sober, which I was all during the 80s, which is a bizarre decade to be sober in. So I was trying to make it up to the band by being a good girl. Here, we’re going to sing this song, “We Built This City on Rock & Roll.” Oh you’re shitting me, that’s the worst song ever. I could do it, I could get up and imitate myself, but that doesn’t feel right.
Your manager, Scott Hann, mentioned that you are completely sober.
Yeah, I’m Jekyll and Hyde. My ex-husband was over the other day and he was talking about my being Jekyll and Hyde. The story of Jekyll and Hyde is about the power of chemistry to change you violently. Some people who are really normal have a drink, get kind of calm, and maybe get a little bit silly. That’s what my mother did. My mother could drink more than I did, and she could drink every day without consequences. My father was an alcoholic but he was a kind one, a funny one—he would open up, he was kind of shy. The trouble is he drank all the time, and it pissed off my mother. They didn’t really fight; it was considered lower class and crude. The only thing I saw was I was around the corner, and they were in the living room, she came and put her hands on her hips. My father was asleep in the chair. He was an investment banker so he had on a three-piece suit with the vest, a watch fob, and the whole thing. His head was tilted to the side and he had a little drool coming out. She stood in front of him and said, “You stewbum.” “Stewbum,” really? It amused me because he wasn’t mean ever. I’m different. I turn into a real, huge asshole. I’m having a great time being an asshole and everybody else is going, “Oh Jesus,” and the cops are going, “Take her to jail.”
How did you quit?
I stopped periodically, but it wasn’t for any particular reason. I don’t like being in any one consciousness all the time, so I never understood how anyone could consistently drink every day, or shoot up every day, or any of that every day. I liked being all over the map with consciousness. What I used to do with the lyrics and music is, I’d run through all the drugs that I took, except heroin which was too much trouble. Doctors can’t even find my veins; they’re way underneath, so it would’ve been a hideous situation trying to be a [heroin addict]. I had nothing against it. I just figured that’s way too much trouble, way too much trouble to get it; what if you need some at four o’clock in the morning and your dealer is out of town? It’s too much trouble. I’m too lazy for that.
Your paintings feature a lot of imagery that was popular in the 60s, like marijuana and white rabbits.
Are you nostalgic for that era at all?
No, I get told what to do by my agent occasionally. I do some stuff that I want to do, like this old lady looking out the window, and I do some stuff he likes to do. Because of the relationship with “White Rabbit” and the 60s, [and] bunnies are cute, gentle, and harmless, a lot of women, in particular, buy my pictures of a white rabbit. I can draw a white rabbit blindfolded by now, so I’ve drawn a lot of pictures of a white rabbit in various poses and conditions. That is a reoccurring thing, and that’s fine. I was born in the year of the rabbit, and the whole thing about rabbits has just continued all through my life. It’s not exclusive; it’s just part of my deal. I’ve done pictures of rock-and-roll people, obviously. Woodstock, Monterey Pop . . . a lot of stuff that is known to me. I really like this thing with the old lady, but maybe nobody will ever buy it—what do I know? I just do the work and send it to my agent."
Grace Slick on Late Night, January 10, 1983
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVKIbDtDu9M
FYI LTC Jeff ShearerSGT Philip Roncari Lt Col Jim CoeCWO3 Dennis M.SGT (Join to see)PO3 Bob McCordSGT Jim Arnold Sgt Albert Castro PO3 Phyllis Maynard Maj Robert Thornton SPC Douglas Bolton Cynthia Croft PO1 H Gene Lawrence PVT Karl Goode CW5 John M. CMSgt (Join to see) PO2 Kevin Parker SGT James Murphy SrA John Monette
Of the bands she played with I only enjoyed Jefferson Airplane which was raw and not overproduced like Jefferson Starship, and Starship.
Images: 2012 Grace Slick painting
Happy 79th Birthday Grace Barnett Slick.
Background from vanityfair.com/news/2012/06/jefferson-airplane-grace-slick-drugs-painting
"JEFFERSON AIRPLANE’S GRACE SLICK ON AGING ROCK STARS AND LIFE AS A PAINTER
BY MICKEY STANLEY
JUNE 15, 2012 11:00 AM
By 1967, restless American youth had found somebody to love in Grace Slick, whose trippy onstage provocations, beautiful looks, and outlier attitude shone bright during the Summer of Love. As Vanity Fair contributing editor Sheila Weller, who interviewed Slick for “Suddenly That Summer,” in the July issue, recalls, “Every American female over the age of 14 wanted to be Grace.” By the mid-80s, however, Jefferson Airplane had become Jefferson Starship and Slick had sobered up to find herself singing marijuana songs in a cocaine decade. VF Daily caught up with the hilarious former acid rocker, now painting voraciously at her tropical Malibu getaway, who told us about aging, art, and the evils of alcohol.
__VF Daily:__What are you painting now?
Grace Slick: I’m working on something as we speak. It’s an old lady, me, looking out of a window. It’s a situation of aging and death. Old people don’t look good unless you really fuck with yourself and go to a plastic surgeon and do all that kind of stuff, and then you look like a freak. But nobody looks good when they get old. Yeah, you’re getting older, but what the hell can you do about it? Nothing. So you may as well ignore it as best you can and just be who you are, be who you were, be who you continue to be.
How does the old lady represent you?
Even though aging incapacitates [the old woman], she’s still a relatively happy camper. That is not the situation with all old people. Some are annoyed, but I’m not. Her appreciation is mine, her aging is mine, but she could’ve been miserable, and I also don’t want to encourage that. She is still engaged, and I’d like to encourage that in people who are getting older.
Watch Now:
“Anger Is a Gorgeous Life Force”: Alanis Morissette and Diablo Cody on Tackling Healing Through Art
How long have you been painting?
I’ve been painting consistently for about 14 years. For a while when the economy wasn’t as screwed up as it is now, I got paid well. Now, I’m better at it, but the economy is terrible. I fit into a category of middle class, possibly close to upper-middle class, people who can’t really afford to throw money around anymore. The people who buy Van Gogh, Monet, Rembrandt, all those hot shots, those are usually corporations who buy them, or somebody like Rupert Murdoch who is just rolling around in money. But my area is not in that category.
When did you change careers?
I left rock and roll professionally at about 49. That’s too long as far as I’m concerned. Some people can do it; it depends on what you were. If you were pretty and young and wore short skirts and were busy trying to be sexy and all that shit at 25, it worked. If you’re 50, it doesn’t work quite as well. Through your life, most people peel away the junk that’s not useful, that’s superfluous. You are determined to peel that away. I do one thing at a time. One man at a time. One car. One house. One child. One job. Jerry Garcia used to take his paints on the road. I don’t do that. Either I’m a singer or a painter. I’m not good at multi-tasking.
Is there any reason you left?
You can do any number of things in the music business aside from trying to look like you’re 25. To me it’s embarrassing. I realized that during the 80s. In the 80s we weren’t writing our own songs. It was like being in L.A. rather than San Francisco. I like to write my own stuff or have the band members write their own stuff, and we weren’t doing that. I was in my 40s and I remember thinking, God, this is just awful. But I was such an asshole for a while, I was trying to make up for it by being sober, which I was all during the 80s, which is a bizarre decade to be sober in. So I was trying to make it up to the band by being a good girl. Here, we’re going to sing this song, “We Built This City on Rock & Roll.” Oh you’re shitting me, that’s the worst song ever. I could do it, I could get up and imitate myself, but that doesn’t feel right.
Your manager, Scott Hann, mentioned that you are completely sober.
Yeah, I’m Jekyll and Hyde. My ex-husband was over the other day and he was talking about my being Jekyll and Hyde. The story of Jekyll and Hyde is about the power of chemistry to change you violently. Some people who are really normal have a drink, get kind of calm, and maybe get a little bit silly. That’s what my mother did. My mother could drink more than I did, and she could drink every day without consequences. My father was an alcoholic but he was a kind one, a funny one—he would open up, he was kind of shy. The trouble is he drank all the time, and it pissed off my mother. They didn’t really fight; it was considered lower class and crude. The only thing I saw was I was around the corner, and they were in the living room, she came and put her hands on her hips. My father was asleep in the chair. He was an investment banker so he had on a three-piece suit with the vest, a watch fob, and the whole thing. His head was tilted to the side and he had a little drool coming out. She stood in front of him and said, “You stewbum.” “Stewbum,” really? It amused me because he wasn’t mean ever. I’m different. I turn into a real, huge asshole. I’m having a great time being an asshole and everybody else is going, “Oh Jesus,” and the cops are going, “Take her to jail.”
How did you quit?
I stopped periodically, but it wasn’t for any particular reason. I don’t like being in any one consciousness all the time, so I never understood how anyone could consistently drink every day, or shoot up every day, or any of that every day. I liked being all over the map with consciousness. What I used to do with the lyrics and music is, I’d run through all the drugs that I took, except heroin which was too much trouble. Doctors can’t even find my veins; they’re way underneath, so it would’ve been a hideous situation trying to be a [heroin addict]. I had nothing against it. I just figured that’s way too much trouble, way too much trouble to get it; what if you need some at four o’clock in the morning and your dealer is out of town? It’s too much trouble. I’m too lazy for that.
Your paintings feature a lot of imagery that was popular in the 60s, like marijuana and white rabbits.
Are you nostalgic for that era at all?
No, I get told what to do by my agent occasionally. I do some stuff that I want to do, like this old lady looking out the window, and I do some stuff he likes to do. Because of the relationship with “White Rabbit” and the 60s, [and] bunnies are cute, gentle, and harmless, a lot of women, in particular, buy my pictures of a white rabbit. I can draw a white rabbit blindfolded by now, so I’ve drawn a lot of pictures of a white rabbit in various poses and conditions. That is a reoccurring thing, and that’s fine. I was born in the year of the rabbit, and the whole thing about rabbits has just continued all through my life. It’s not exclusive; it’s just part of my deal. I’ve done pictures of rock-and-roll people, obviously. Woodstock, Monterey Pop . . . a lot of stuff that is known to me. I really like this thing with the old lady, but maybe nobody will ever buy it—what do I know? I just do the work and send it to my agent."
Grace Slick on Late Night, January 10, 1983
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVKIbDtDu9M
FYI LTC Jeff ShearerSGT Philip Roncari Lt Col Jim CoeCWO3 Dennis M.SGT (Join to see)PO3 Bob McCordSGT Jim Arnold Sgt Albert Castro PO3 Phyllis Maynard Maj Robert Thornton SPC Douglas Bolton Cynthia Croft PO1 H Gene Lawrence PVT Karl Goode CW5 John M. CMSgt (Join to see) PO2 Kevin Parker SGT James Murphy SrA John Monette
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