Jefferson is the name of a musical airplane from San Francisco. Marty Balin, Grace Slick, Paul Kather, Jack Cassady, and Jorma Ludwing Kaukonen. Once they played for nothing in the pure air of Haight-Ashbury, a hilly San Francisco neighborhood. Lately they have straightened up a bit, just enough to become the first super-star hippy musicians in America's history. Their rock is harder than the Lovin Spoonful's, their lyrics are heavier than the Rolling Stones', their message is sweeter than the Beatles'--the Jefferson Airplane is closer to where it's at than anyone else.

I don't like to say our sound is pop music--expect that its popular. And it is not the old hard rock, there isn't any of that anymore. Our music is the San Francisco expression of rock 'n' roll. I'm not saying that San Francisco has only one type of music--like the old "Liverpool Sound"--but with all the groups it's the same thought. Their head are where ours are. It's like love, but not that corny.

On stage with the yellow smoke and the red and blue spot lights, they look grown-up, five men and a woman. Grace has long brown hair which is not straight but curled at the bottom. Not sallow-faced, fire-eyed, Haight-Ashbury, hippy girl. But almost pinkcheeked Wellesley. Long eye-lashed and colgate-smiled.

You should live according to yourself. But you just feel rank when somebody comes up and classifies and says you are in Box Q or Bag 8. I would like to think I can put my head in more places than just Haight-Ashbury, but when I go shopping I'm still going to buy what I like--costumes, not dresses. Down to the floor and up over the head. Anything wild.

She stands softly before the performance and plays with the microphone. "Do you think it should be louder?" she asks a curly haired boy in the front row. "Uh-uh, it's fine," he replies. But Grace tells the Unicorn to turn it up because the airplane is here to play their music and everybody should hear it easily.

Most popular music has been an insult to people. But a group doesn't have to cater to the Top 40 market. I really believe if you're doing something honestly, people will come to it. We are part of the beginning of what's happening. We are heavier now and I hope we get freakier.

The little elf-man with a pointed chin and hair carefully waved over his forehead is the partner of Grace, Marty Balin. He started the Airplane. He is their Voice, the aching, trembling sound he cries into every song. He is less easy than Grace, worries about many things, carries a hurt air with him. His eyes are no more than black pinheads and you sense he doesn't speak to his enemies. He is more than serious about his work.

Marty slumps on the back of the platform. Grace sets a fresh stick of incense on the electric piano's music stand. The other three players tune and warm.

The voice over the loudspeaker introduces "the Jefferson Airplane, the finest sound ..." Grace interrupts. "We're not ready yet. Don't introduce us. When we're ready, we'll just start playing."

After a short while Grace walks to the front, takes a square stance toward the audience, and forces the beginning of Somebody to Love. She wrote the song.

When they sing, it is a machine in six-part fluid motion. They concentrate hard, intense craftsmen, conscientious. You are sure this is the best they have ever done. It is the best they have ever done.

We never come on stage with any approach, any list of songs. It all has to be spontaneous. We're attuned to anything that might happen. This is a freer and looser attitude. It keeps us totally involved with the audience.

The stage begins to color with the airplane sound and the Bostonians are first impressed, then taken in, then open-mouthed, turned-on. This is what they came from San Francisco to show us. Grace has closed her eyes. The sound is inside her, pushing the brown hair around her shoulders. Now she is looking at Marty who is staring at something out in back of the audience. The guitars are jamming against each other.

The sound is up now, and purple. Marty is straining. Grace turns her head to one side and pushes hard at her voice. It is a high wall.

You see, we used to have this other girl instead of Grace and it was easy for me because she could never get off of her one note. But Grace has a much stronger voice and there is something to work with. We compete and keep each other on our toes. Sometimes I'll sing one of her notes and fight her for it. I've gotten a lot better because of her.