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When they stopped being two wholesome hippie/rock chicks who in their hearts were still at Woodstock. The 1980's incarnation of the band, with the eighties' big hair, power-dressing, stadium rock-fodder, and other peoples' songs. One or two nice tunes, but ultimately as depressing as Grace Slick having one last go, long after she'd lost it, as "Jefferson Starship". (Who, btw, had the same interchangeable 1980's power-dressed big-haired big stadioum rock-radio friendly sort of sound. Depressing, isn't it: the last shreds of 1960's creativity wrung out of a band, in exchange for one more hit in a virtually identical stadium-rock mode. A terrible Faustian pact: no wonder Nancy, or was it Anne, piled the pounds on with comfort-eating....
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