The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

They Were Collaborators #667

The Jefferson Airplane


mister muleboy said...

Hey -- I know that one dude!

I bought his bass -- in black, of course.

The great Jack Casady!

(he's second from the right)

and he didn't even burn up in a fire. . . .

estiv said...

Bill Graham was briefly their manager when they were at the height of their fame. When he quit he said, "If they cross the street, they think it's a ballet."

la peregrina said...

Don't you want somebody to love?

Fred said...

Looks like Marty and Grace didn't get the sunglasses memo.

DickGreenleaf said...

I was surprised to learn in his obits, that Spencer Dryden was Charlie Chaplin's nephew