POP MUSIC REVIEW : Jefferson Starship Sets Course for Earthly Orbit : The San Francisco hippie band blends its past sci-fi escapism and political agenda for a more contemporary focus during its show at the Coach House.

Paul Kantner must be taking the loss of the Mars Observer satellite pretty hard. After all, he’s the guy who was telling us back in 1970 on the Jefferson Starship’s “Blows Against the Empire” album that the United States would have an interstellar spacecraft sometime and that he and other of “America’s crazies” would hijack it, leaving Earth’s problems behind forever. Looks like there are still a few minor technical problems to deal with before we’ll be moving “30,000 light-years” away.

Back when the Starship was the Airplane, the band--born on the acid-drenched shores of San Francisco in the ‘60s--had a social agenda reflected in such albums as “Surrealistic Pillow,” “Crown of Creation” and “Volunteers.” “Blows Against the Empire” changed all that, releasing the Airplane/Starship from earthly concerns, turning the focus of the music from political reality to metaphysical possibility.

The latest edition of this longstanding group returned to Earth on Thursday at the Coach House with about a three-hour set that seemed to bring the band’s 25-year history into contemporary focus. With longtime members Kantner, Marty Balin and Jack Casady on board, the band brought together political awareness and sci-fi escapism. (Entirely forgotten was the hit-minded incarnation of the late ‘80s, but none of these guys was in that edition).

Though not quite the “acoustic set” that was advertised (keyboardist Tim Gorman utilized an array of synthesizers, and Casady played electric bass), the show did have a rootsy appeal via Kantner’s rich twelve-string rhythm guitar work and clean-sounding acoustic solos from guitarist Slick Aguilar.

Working without a drummer, the band relied on the rhythm guitar and on Casady’s smooth bass work to keep itself in line. Though the ensemble play was rough in more than a few places, the overall effect fit well with the “hang loose, do your own thing” spirit of the ‘60s. And if you were familiar with the tunes--and apparently most of the Coach House audience was--the sloppiness didn’t matter.

The band readily embraced its Airplane period with versions of “Volunteers of America,” “Plastic, Fantastic Lover” and “Crown of Creation.” The political awareness in these songs was heightened by Kantner’s reading of two poems by Otto Rene Castillo of Latin America, both dealing with the kind of political optimism that envisions a better life for all, rather than escape for a few.

Actually, though the group did a long section from “Blows Against the Empire,” the songs in context seemed more about freeing the imagination than escaping the planet. Likewise, the post-apocalypse lament “Wooden Ships” stood more as metaphor than as a picture of a world destroyed by nuclear war or environmental collapse.

Surprisingly, Balin’s songs of love--”Today” from “Surrealistic Pillow” and a new tune, “Yes, Yes, Yes”--fit easily into the mix, giving the political agenda a human face. Balin’s voice, especially effective during “It’s No Secret,” has the same sheet-metal quality that made it so distinctive in the ‘60s.

The bulk of the vocal duties fell to Darby Gould, whose voice has all the strength and insistence that Grace Slick once applied to this material but with an added clarity. Her lead on Balin’s “Law Man” made for one of the evening’s more musical moments.

The opening act, “Three Blind Mice” (guitarist Brian Barnett, upright bassist Rick Martinez and washboard percussionist Bones Jones) presented an acoustic set of blues, boogie and ragtime that included originals as well as tunes from Elmore James and T-Bone Walker. The best moments for the threesome (which also appears as an electric band) came when Barnett milked his slide guitar for coos, cries and ascending figures. The worst came when he sang. This is the kind of ensemble that would go well in an after-hours club, or at a summer picnic with a jug of rhubarb wine. Just don’t mike that washboard too close.