Grace Slick, "Theme From the Movie 'Manhole'"

It's a day for cake. Happy birthday to my old friend from college Dave, who opened the door for my very first chance to write about music for a living. Happy birthday as well to Young Christopher, whom I met at that job all those years ago and has remained a treasured friend despite being far across the pond.

And more germane to the purposes of this blog, happy birthday to Grace Slick, one of my very favorite people who is not a personal friend. Slick, the former co-lead vocalist of the Jefferson Airplane/Starship, has been retired from the music world for several years, now living on her own schedule in Malibu and doing the odd painting of Jerry Garcia or Janis Joplin. But the elder stateswoman of rock had a profound effect on me in my teenage years - with her uncompromising judgments and piercing vocals, it wasn't for nothing that she was nicknamed "the Chrome Nun," and I have long been drawn to that powerful personality and powerful voice.

Indeed, it was a great thrill to briefly meet Grace roughly 10 years ago, when she issued Somebody to Love?, her memoirs of life in rock. She was giving a reading at the Booksmith on Haight Street in San Francisco, and one thing I'll always remember was her entrance: she immediately showed herself to be one of those exceedingly rare people who, when they walk into a room, all the light casts upon them. A wonderful and rare charisma.

And her musical chops were pretty sharp, too. Beyond that domineering vocal style, she had a knack for wordplay and a playfulness with block chords that could have sent her into '70s Carole King territory if that had been what she wanted. If I ever find a YouTube clip of "Ballad of the Chrome Nun" or "Come Again? Toucan," you'll see what I mean.

For now, in tribute, here's a relative obscurity from her uneven solo catalog, one so long it had to be broken into two parts. "Theme From the Movie 'Manhole'" isn't from that nonexistent movie; the title was just Grace having some fun (fellow feminists weren't necessarily amused by the term). It's awfully indulgent, but "Manhole" offers some of her most intriguing poetry:

The North Wind sounds like freezing horns
Sailing through the East Wind, and the East Wind has winding, unwinding strings
South Wind sounds like skin on drums, skin on skin,
Ah, but the West Wind moves like memory ...

And then, finally around the 13-minute mark (late in clip #2), she hits upon her declaration of independence:

Don't tie me down, I want to run, give me the sun
Don't tie me down, I want to run, give me the sun
And if you see - ah, you think I'm just about to leave?
You can follow me - but I'm already gone.
Give me the sun!

Words to live by - and at times, I have, to my frequent gratitude. Thanks, and many happy returns, Grace.