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You’ve heard the jokes. Maybe you’ve even made them yourself. One minute a band is singing about psychedelic rabbits and social revolution in San Francisco, and the next, they’re wearing neon spandex and claiming they "built this city" on rock and roll. It’s one of the most baffling, litigious, and commercially successful identity crises in music history.
Honestly, the transition from Jefferson Starship to Starship wasn't just a marketing tweak. It was a messy, multi-decade divorce involving lawsuits, Airplane-sized egos, and a fundamental battle over what rock music was even supposed to be in the 1980s.
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To understand the chaos, you have to look at Paul Kantner. He was the architect. Back in 1970, while Jefferson Airplane was still technically a thing, he released a concept album called Blows Against the Empire. He credited it to "Paul Kantner and Jefferson Starship." This wasn't a "band" yet; it was a loose collective of hippies from the Grateful Dead and Santana hanging out in a studio.
By 1974, the Airplane had finally crashed. Kantner and Grace Slick needed a new vehicle, so they officially launched Jefferson Starship. It was a powerhouse. They had the guitar wizardry of a teenager named Craig Chaquico and the eventual return of Marty Balin.
The Lawsuit That Killed the "Jefferson"
Things were great for a while. Red Octopus hit number one in 1975. "Miracles" was everywhere. But by the early '80s, the vibe shifted. Hard.
Paul Kantner was a sci-fi nerd who liked political subtext and sprawling arrangements. The rest of the band? They were leaning into the "arena rock" sound that was printing money at the time. When Mickey Thomas joined as lead singer in 1979, the transformation began. If you listen to "Jane," you can hear it—the grit is still there, but it’s getting shinier.
By 1984, Kantner had enough. He hated the commercial direction. He felt the music was becoming "vapid." So, he did something radical: he quit.
But he didn't just walk away. He sued.
Kantner didn't want the remaining members using the "Jefferson" name. To him, that name represented a specific San Francisco legacy he helped build. He basically told his former bandmates, including the mother of his child, Grace Slick, "If I’m not in it, you can’t call it Jefferson anything."
He won. Or rather, they settled. In March 1985, a legal agreement was reached. The band dropped "Jefferson" and became simply Starship.
Why Starship Still Matters (Even if Critics Hate It)
Here is where the history gets polarizing. Critics loathed Starship. They saw them as the ultimate sell-outs. Rolling Stone once called "We Built This City" the worst song of all time.
But the fans? The fans didn't care.
Starship became a hit machine. With Grace Slick and Mickey Thomas sharing the mic, they racked up three number-one hits:
- "We Built This City" (1985)
- "Sara" (1985)
- "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" (1987)
Think about that for a second. This was a group of musicians who started in the psychedelic '60s and ended up dominating MTV in the '80s. Grace Slick became the oldest woman to have a number-one single at the time. It was a bizarre, improbable second act.
But the "ship" was sinking from the inside. Slick eventually left, later saying she felt "too old" to be on stage singing pop songs. By 1990, the original Starship era was essentially over.
The Resurrection and the Current Confusion
If you look at concert calendars today, you’ll see "Jefferson Starship" touring. You might also see "Starship featuring Mickey Thomas."
Wait, how?
After the 1985 settlement, the name "Jefferson Starship" was supposed to be retired. However, in 1992, Paul Kantner decided he wanted it back. He started touring as "Jefferson Starship: The Next Generation." He eventually dropped the suffix and just used the full name again.
For years, multiple versions of the band existed simultaneously. It was a "Ship of Theseus" situation. If you replace every member of a band over 50 years, is it still the same band?
When Kantner died in 2016, a new legal battle erupted. Craig Chaquico, the lead guitarist who played on every single hit from 1974 to 1990, sued the touring version of Jefferson Starship. He argued that the right to use the name died with Kantner.
As of now, the "Jefferson Starship" currently on the road features David Freiberg (who was in the Airplane and the original 70s Starship) and Donny Baldwin. They play the psych-rock hits and the 70s classics. Mickey Thomas’s "Starship" focuses more on the 80s pop era.
How to Tell Them Apart (Simply)
If you're buying a concert ticket or digging through a record bin, here is the cheat sheet:
- Jefferson Airplane (1965-1972): Psychedelic, counter-culture, "White Rabbit."
- Jefferson Starship (1974-1984): Classic 70s rock, "Miracles," "Count on Me," "Jane."
- Starship (1985-1990): 80s synth-pop, "We Built This City," "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now."
- The Modern Era: Two separate touring acts with different legal rights to the catalog.
Making Sense of the Legacy
What most people get wrong is thinking this was just a name change for the sake of a trend. It was a war of philosophy. Kantner wanted art; the 80s lineup wanted hits. Both succeeded in their own ways.
The real actionable takeaway here? Don't let the 80s cheese distract you from the musicianship. Craig Chaquico’s guitar work in the late 70s is objectively some of the best of that era. Mickey Thomas has a vocal range that most modern singers would kill for.
If you want to experience the "true" evolution, skip the Greatest Hits albums for a moment. Listen to Dragon Fly (1974) and then jump immediately to Knee Deep in the Hoopla (1985). The sonic whiplash tells the story better than any legal document ever could.
To dive deeper into this history, you should track down the 2004 documentary Fly Jefferson Airplane or read Jeff Tamarkin’s book Got a Revolution!. They provide the grit behind the lawsuits and the creative friction that fueled one of rock's most complicated legacies.