Somebody to Love?: A Rock-And-Roll Memoir by Grace Slick

Author:Grace Slick [Slick, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biographies & Memoirs, Arts & Literature, Actors & Entertainers, Composers & Musicians, Rock, Television Performers, Specific Groups, Women
ISBN: 9780446554428
Amazon: B00FOT8B80
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2008-12-13T11:00:00+00:00

It is a fascinating sequence—the film, itself, actually only a work print of a series of interviews plus some footage of Rip Torn which hints at what the flick might have ultimately been, does something which I find quite important—in a way, it is an exact mirror of the political scene today. …

It is a collection of open-end raps which eventually becomes boring. If it were not for the presence of the rock band and the fact that its footage is not only interesting visually, but also listenable, the whole thing would have been hard to take.

But, Ralph, you've heard the old line “You had to have been there.” Some jokes exist for their own sake, and most of us thought that the film was meant to be a comedy of errors. Maybe tighter editing would have helped, or the addition of at least one cop with a lamp shade on his head. But the incongruity of it combined with the illegality were enough to make the entire production a worthwhile farce—as far as I was concerned. And there was another plus: Siskel and Ebert would have hated it.

By the way, decades later the rock group U2 did the same thing in L.A. in the process of shooting a video. There were no arrests.

One more Hollywood turndown for me: Milos Forman's Ragtime. This time I was offered the part of a radical Communist rabble-rouser, which wouldn't have been a big stretch for me. Unfortunately, it cut into our touring time and I declined. My movie career was short, uneventful, and over in one poorly reviewed underground flop.

No Oscars for Grace.

No Grammys either. We were playing in Florida once, and the word was out that I was GOING TO GET A GRAMMY. In fact, it was supposed to be a sure thing. So sure that cameras were set up onstage the night of the awards. There was a monitor showing the ceremony in L.A., and the idea was that we'd stop the concert when the winner—me—was revealed, so I could blush, look humble, and say thanks to my Aunt Frieda, Uncle Trot, etc. But when the announcement finally came, the presenter said, “And the Grammy goes to … Linda Ronstadt!”

The camera guys onstage looked confused, the audience booed, and I was pretty embarrassed. I remember thinking, What kind of “inside” information made someone sure enough of my win to go to the trouble of interrupting our set, shutting up the audience, and dragging cameras onstage? Hot tip, indeed.

The screwup left me standing there with vinyl on my face. I knew people were looking at me to see how I'd respond, so I immediately flashed that no-problem-isn't-this-an-amusing-fuck-up look so we could finish the rest of the set without everybody feeling sorry for Grace. The truth was that although not getting “the coveted prize” was awkward, I didn't feel sorry for myself. I was saved by the part of me that was disdainful of the straight world's award show circus. Besides, when you compare notes, Ronstadt does have better pipes.

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