by Mark Holan

"To paraphrase Somerset Maugham, Remember the three rules of rock and roll: Nobody knows what they are," Paul Kantner says from his home just outside San Francisco. "I think someone asked him about writing novels, and he said, 'There are three rules for writing a novel. Fortunately, nobody knows what they are.'"

As one of the original members of Jefferson Airplane, Kantner has occupied the enviable (or unenviable) position of navigating that musical vehicle through its various incarnations. Airplane became Starship, and the one constant has been Kantner, a person who knows that bands take on lives of their own. This Wednesday, January 17, Kantner and the other members of Jefferson Airplane -- Jorma Kaukonen, Jack Casady, Spencer Dryden, Grace Slick and Marty Balin -- will be inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame.

But don't get ready to bronze Kantner's tie-dyed T-shirt just yet. He isn't ready to write his memoirs of a life spent making music. Would he consider writing an autobiography?

"I doubt it, but who knows?" Kantner replies.

"Actually, I'm doing a talking book thing about San Francisco in those days. So although that's not autobiographical, it'll be at least 'city-biographical.'"

Despite his upcoming induction into the Rock Hall, Kantner remains refreshingly irreverent and candid about the prospect of being "immortalized" for future generations of rock fans.

"Are we famous yet? We must be famous," he says with a laugh. "My main abiding concern is, 'Will this keep me out of traffic school? Hey, I'm famous now. I'm in the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. Do I have to go to traffic school? Can't you let me out of it?'"

There were reports that the members of Jefferson Airplane were a bit miffed that they hadn't been inducted already. After all, the Airplane have been eligible since 1992 (25 years after their first release, "Somebody To Love"). In other words, there were some Rock Hall committee voters who didn't feel that the Airplane belongs in the Rock Hall. Kantner, however, doesn't give a shit either way.

"We don't really pay much attention to that sort of stuff in San Francisco," he explains. "Not to be irreverent or mean about it at all, but it's just sort of supercilious. We're not ready for museums yet. It's like someone is taking something seriously, but in San Francisco, we have a hard time doing that. So you must forgive any irreverence that I might espouse.

"Just remember what I said about the three rules to rock and roll, and we come from San Francisco, which further exacerbates the problem. I like to describe San Francisco as 49 square miles surrounded by reality."

Kantner doesn't doubt that Jefferson Airplane will reunite in the wake of their Rock Hall induction. "I think we're one of the few bands of our era with all of the members still alive," he says. "I don't know if that bodes well or bad for us," he adds with a laugh.

Although Kantner maintains an avid interest in all things rock and roll, he loves to joust with the windmills of the establishment. With a target as big as the Rock Hall, he doesn't have to hit the bulls eye to score points. "They ought to have it be like that place where all the country music people play," he opines. "What's that town?"

Branson, Missouri?

"Yeah, you could have your Grateful Deadland, your Rolling Stones Vistas and Led Zeppelin's Stairway To Heaven," he says with a laugh.

Being the political and social commentator that he is, Kantner is asked if he has seen NIXON yet?

"No," he replies. "It's like 'Beavis & Butt-head.' Whenever people like Nixon or Dole or Sonny Bono or even Clinton come on the screen, I run for the remote control. I mean, I really like Oliver Stone, but I don't have the stomach to see a movie about Nixon at this point in time.

"One of our local sages has a great saying," Kantner continues. "Let's see if I can dredge it up properly. 'The error is to assume that history . ' or perhaps pageantry, in the case of the Rock And Roll Museum . The error is to assume that history has a purpose or a rationale.'"

As one of the first rock musicians to get into computers in the '70s, Kantner has seen the lines of communication extended considerably with the advent of the Internet. Surprisingly, he is no longer as big a fan of computer communication as one might think.

"I got bored with the interpersonal aspect of computers in about 1980," he explains. "All this chat crap. It's a bunch of idiots saying nothing to nobody. It's really a waste of time.

"I'm convinced that the Internet and the Worldwide Web as such are one of the biggest things to come along since the automobile and movie business. But we're in the 1905 era of the movie business right now, vis a vis, the computer world. You can see these endless pathways and roads stretching out from where we are right now, but none of them are realized.

"There's a little haiku I made up the other day: In all things web/f2f is still better than the Internet. The Internet is a great new frontier to explore, but no one has happened onto the catchall of it yet. And what it really means. But it is an extraordinary advance forward. It's like the invention of the automobile and the invention of the printing press in the way it will affect the future."

He is reminded that in the past year, Smith-Corona, the last typewriter company in America, went out of business.

"Oh, yeah," Kantner agrees. "Well, a word processor is a million times better than a typewriter. And a typewriter is a million times better than a pencil, but I still do my primary work with a pencil on a piece of paper. That's the best way for me to do it.

"I may be Old World, and my son doesn't understand why I do it, but it works for me. My thoughts flow onto a piece of paper better than me typing them onto a computer screen.

"It's the same thing with reading," he continues. "I can't imagine reading on a screen and having the same kind of pleasure as you get out of reading words on a piece of paper."

Last Updated: 15 October 2000