The Turning Point

Last night I sat down to write my memoirs.

You see, it's been 177 days since I quit my job at KTSH (not that I've been obsessively counting). And even though I've e-mailed quite a few résumés down to that spinning blue marble called Earth, I'm still not back on the air. These past few weeks I caught myself turning a phrase over in my mind, one I never expected: "I'm retired."

Anyway, last night seemed like a good time to finally buckle down and write my book, Riding the Waves: The Story of One Disc Jockey's Four-Decade Journey through the Solar System and FM Radio, by Jupiter Jack. (Introduction by Don Henley).  I dusted off my old Dictaphone and sat down to compose.

I wasn't sure where to begin.  My birth?  The first time I heard Big Joe Turner?  Starting points, sure, but they were things that happened to me.  As I sat there in my captain's chair, Dictaphone microphone clutched in my hand, a winter wind was blowing across the surface of the Lost Moon, and I suddenly vividly remembered a very specific night, long ago, from my early days in radio.  Maybe there's something in the December air that makes a person want to look back on the choices that he's made -- the moments where he adjusted the course of his own destiny, for better or worse -- George Bailey style.

I decided at last to tell the story of December 31st, 1976, maybe the biggest turning point in my whole career. Among other things, it was my first time broadcasting at night. I'd been on the air before, but I'd been doing my show in the morning, 8:00 to 10:00am, not exactly the hippest time slot. (This was back in the days before the morning show craze.) I played rock and roll for the morning drive, while the more established DJs were sleeping off their Sunset Strip adventures of the night before. My show wasn't called "Lost Moon Radio," and I had a distinctly less space-age handle. They called me "Jalopy Jack," and I "blasted out the rockingest records to all the congestion cats on our fabulously freaky freeways." I had a bunch of car horn sound effects, revving engines, the whole deal. The truth is, in those days I was just a young, idealistic DJ with a head full of dreams, but no idea what to do with them.

Soviet Kitsch

One of my goals for my (temporary?) unemployment period was to finally get the moonbase a little more organized.  This project started ambitiously enough.  I spent the first week taking all my records down from their shelves.  Then I spread them all out on the floor of the largest cargo bay and spent most of August trying out different cataloging systems: alphabetical (by artist), chronological, thematic, philosophical, reverse chronological, alphabetical (by title), by genre, by run time, by record label, by album sleeve color, Dewey decimal, folksonomic, analytico-synthetic, and alphabetical (by feeling).

I have yet to decide on a cataloging system.

These last couple of weeks I've spent a lot of time wandering the moonbase corridors, digging out various odds and ends: galactic bric-à-brac I've accumulated in my time on the Lost Moon, keepsakes from Earth I brought up in my rocket, etc.

Yesterday, in a broom closet under the starboard solar array, I found a shoebox containing a handful of postcards from my old broadcasting buddy Graham Fernwood.  Graham had done the news and weather reports at KTSH for a few years before I got a job at the station.   By the time I was introduced to him, however, he was mostly living in Munich, working for Radio Free Europe, sneaking the U.S. government's feel-good message about democracy and capitalism under the ol' Iron Curtain.  He and I only met a couple of times, but we hit it off.  (I used to ask him if he could hook my show up with any secret CIA funding.)

Farewell Roosevelt High School

Well friends, I had a highly memorable Monday broadcasting psychedelic radio to the wonderful students and faculty of Torrance, California's own Roosevelt High School.  (Go Mascots!)  It was truly a pleasure to spend a morning riding the signal from 87.5 FM: The Sound of Roosevelt High.  If you'll indulge me half a pun, the experience was truly educational-- from the radio booth to the principal's office and back.  Many thanks to the day's co-pilot, Josh Redman, and to my niece Chelsea, who made the entire broadcast possible.  After three months spent off the radio, it was just a blast to be back on the air.

Granted, the Roosevelt High station has a pretty low wattage, so I believe my transmission was mainly confined to the school campus, most of its parking lot, and a couple of adjoining Torrance side streets.  (Although I was told later that apparently they'd been able to tune into my broadcast, with just a bit of static, at Café-Club Fais Do-Do, a full 13 miles away, a stroke of reception luck I chalk up to the vagaries of the FM band and to the conductive power of Fais Do-Do's aluminum superstructure.)  But I've never been one to quibble over the size of an audience.  As I don't currently have a 50,000 watt tower of corporate power to disseminate my broadcasts, I welcome any group of listeners with open arms.

I made a rare return trip to Earth for the show, and it was great to see Chelsea face to face (she's really growing up!) as well as to join my brother David and the rest of the family for dinner at the Olive Garden.  But now it's time to pack up my microphone and turntable, hop into my little rocket, and head home to the Lost Moon of Jupiter.  As fun as it was to be back in high school for the day, I'm eager to get back to the moonbase and resume my job hunt.  Three months is a long time for a disc jockey to be out of work.  I really should be sending out some more CVs, making calls, pounding the pavement, that sort of thing.  I mean, the Lost Moon may be a Jovian utopia where the idea of money is as foreign a concept as table tennis -- you wouldn't believe how many times I've tried and failed to teach the aliens ping pong -- but that doesn't mean I don't have bills to pay.  It's more expensive than you might think to maintain a functioning space station, and if you want to hit the really good vintage record sales around the gas giants, you've gotta spend an arm and a leg on rocket fuel.  Plus all the major carriers really screw you on cell phone coverage in the Outer Solar System.

But I'm confident that with a little bit of ambition and leg work I can definitely find a station to carry Lost Moon Radio by December.  After all, my annual Holiday Show is one of my favorite broadcasts of the year, and I can't imagine this temporary unemployment hiccup getting in the way of that tradition.

In the meantime, if anyone reading this works for the City of Torrance and can do something about a citation for parking in a school zone, please contact me directly.

I've Found a New Frequency

As my loyal listeners know, I recently had to disconnect from the satellite that was beaming my broadcast down to Earth every Thursday night from 12-1. That's right, I resigned my slot at KTSH-FM, and I've spent the summer wandering the cosmos, looking for that magic new frequency.

Well I'm here to announce that I have found one. Now I'm going to warn you it's a little untraditional, but hey, so was Chunga's Revenge by Frank Zappa-- the first and only LP named for a vacuum cleaner. Remember that scat-vocal "drum solo"?

So if you happen to be in Torrance, California, this Monday morning, tune your radio to 87.5 FM and sample my latest transmission via this unorthodox conduit.  I'll be meditating on a theme appropriate to the locale: Childhood.  Will the broadcast be as ground-breaking as Zappa? No, but then again neither was Devo. And unlike them, I can live with that.

And So I Quit the Police Department...

Well folks, if you missed last week's broadcast, I should probably catch you up.  Still reeling from the abrupt rescheduling of my annual Independence Day Show -- which had been moved to make room for the four-day programming block dubbed "Larry and Munch's Fart of July Extravaganza" -- I ended up making a few unplanned departures from my set list.  One of those departures involved calling KTSH's media conglomerate owner, Corporacorp, and leaving the CEO a voicemail message, the content of which probably fell somewhere between thoughtful list of grievances and vitriolic personal attack.  Much to this spacefaring DJ's surprise, the CEO called me back -- via the satellite phone on her zeppelin -- and offered to reward my apparently marketable insubordination with an improved timeslot and probable syndication opportunities.  After a brief and unsettling chat, I politely declined her thirty pieces of silver and handed in my verbal resignation.

That's right, friends.  I quit.  I joined the ranks of Edward VIII, Patrick McGoohan, David Lee Roth and Sammy Hagar in requesting that my employer kindly take this job and shove it.  (R.I.P. Johnny Paycheck.)

Quitting takes its toll, folks.  I got off the air, marched straight down to my lunar storage module, dug out an old bottle of Christian Brothers brandy (a gift from Harry Nilsson with the instructions "For Emergencies Only"), drew the curtains, threw on a Billie Holiday record, and set to nursing my wounds while the lady sang the blues.  I had some reflecting to do, and reflect I did.

Was leaving the station that's broadcast my signal for the better part of four decades a momentous decision?  Sure.  And like most of the momentous decisions in my life, it was made impulsively just before one o'clock on a weeknight.  But that doesn't mean it was a bad decision.  Of course there's some nervousness and uncertainty that comes with stepping out into the unknown.  Even now, days later, I've got my share of butterflies flapping around in the ol' kettle drum.  But I'll tell ya, in the week since I packed up my proverbial cubicle, I've also felt an exhilarating sense of liberation.  The stars above the Lost Moon haven't looked so full of possibility in a long time.

Happening NOW: All-New Lost Moon Radio at the Hollywood Fringe Festival

Thanks to everyone who caught my sold-out live broadcast at the Hollywood Fringe Festival last Friday. We made beautiful music, we made beautiful comedy, we made dirty comedy, we made abstract expressionist music.   It was a wonderful night.

And now we're going to do it again! And again after that! And then again still! And then one more time for good measure!

LOST MOON RADIO @ THE HOLLYWOOD FRINGE FESTIVAL

remaining dates

WEDNESDAY June 23 (8pm)

THURSDAY June 24 (8pm)

FRIDAY June 25 (11pm)

SATURDAY June 26 (4:30pm)

Reserve your tickets online today! The theater has a strictly-enforced capacity, and I always keep one seat reserved for Grace Slick, in the event that she and I ever decide to visit Earth on the same day.

All performances are at:

Theatre of Arts

1625 N. Las Palmas Blvd.

Los Angeles, CA

(1 block south of Hollywood Blvd.)

http://www.hollywoodfringe.org/project/view/105

Moon Units Rock R Bar

To those of you who saw my favorite band, The Moon Units, rock R Bar in Koreatown last night, thanks for visiting my page!  I'm Jupiter Jack, rock n' roll DJ, and I want to let you know about my mainstage act, Lost Moon Radio.

It's going up at the Hollywood Fringe Festival from June 18-June 26.  All relevant information (including ticket reservations) can be found here: http://www.hollywoodfringe.org/project/view/105

If you're wondering just what Lost Moon Radio is, here's a description folks have used in the past.  (I don't endorse it.)

Lost Moon Radio is a one hour "radio show" from DJ Jupiter Jack, who claims to broadcast from outer space, but actually is stuck on a tasteless Top 40 station in the San Fernando Valley.  When Jack spins tracks, what we hear are comic sketches and songs, performed live by a team of actors and a genre-jumping band.  To Jack, they're profound; to us, they're hilarious.  Lost Moon Radio, now in its 6th installment, won Live Comedy LA's Show of the Year for 2009.


So come check it out... I guarantee an evening of fun and laughs.
Or if you're just looking to book The Moon Units, you can do so here.

Follow Me On Twitter

As my next live show draws near, I've been pirating high speed bandwidth from the Hubble telescope, so I can update my Twitter feed regularly.

NASA really could have picked a more creative password than tomwolfesucks.  I guessed it on my third try.

Anyway, check out my feed: http://twitter.com/lostmoonradio

Punching Coordinates for the Hollywood Fringe Festival

Well friends, it looks like the magical time is rapidly approaching. I'm talking about those moments when I aim my rocket of rock toward my earthly hometown of Los Angeles, California-- armed with a new live show.

And this one is extra special folks, because I will be performing at the inaugural run of the Hollywood Fringe Festival from June 18th to the 26th! We're talking theatre, music, circus, comedy... maybe even some neo-fascist politics, depending on how literally people interpret the festival's title.



WHAT: Lost Moon Radio, Episode 6... a brand-new show with a brand-new theme: American History and Culture!

WHERE: Fringe Central @ the Hollywood Fringe Festival: Theatre of Arts 1625 N. Las Palmas Avenue, Los Angeles (1/2 block south of Hollywood Blvd.)

WHEN: Friday June 18 (9:30pm), Wednesday June 23 (8pm), Thursday June 24 (8pm), Friday June 25 (11pm), Saturday June 26 (4:30pm)

TICKETS: $12, available via the Hollywood Fringe ticketing service https://www.ovationtix.com/trs/pr/734625

These shows sell out, and unlike my past venues, Theatre of Arts has a strict seating capacity, so you'll want to reserve your tickets right away!

Back On Earth Starting March 18th

As my returning listeners know, I left Earth on April 1st, 1977 in a small rocket ship of my own construction.  Now, to honor my 33 years here on the Lost Moon of Jupiter, I'm making a special journey back to that spinning blue marble (Earth) for the 5th installment of Lost Moon Radio.  And I want you to be there!

WHAT: Lost Moon Radio, Episode 5... An entirely new program on the twin topics of love and death!  Followed by live-band karaoke!

WHEN: 4 Shows Only!  Thursday March 18, Friday March 19, Saturday March 27, Thursday April 1 (all shows at 8:30pm, doors at 7:45)

WHERE: All new location: Club Fais Do-Do, 5257 Adams Blvd, Los Angeles, CA (1 block south of the 10 freeway, between Fairfax and La Brea)

TICKETS: Available for $10 in advance (strongly suggested) or $12 at the door.  Buy them here: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/102600


Come see the show that Live Comedy LA named their 2009 Show of the Year.  Buy your tickets today!

Live Band Karaoke With The Moon Units

Friends, it's no secret that my favorite band of all time is the Moon Units, a hard-rocking combo that accompanies me at every live show I give down on Earth.

Now you already know that the Moon Units perform live-band karaoke following every Lost Moon Radio show, but did you know that they also play private parties and clubs?  Well they do, and you can hire them!

That's right, you can recruit the Moon Units to perform live-band karaoke for private events.  They play the tunes; you and your guests sing them.  Maybe you want to belt out Bowie's "Ziggy Stardust" at your glam bar.  Or The Cars' "Just What I Needed" at your wedding.  Or Cher's "If I Could Turn Back Time" at your divorce proceeding.  Whatever the event, the Moon Units can be your backing band.

The Moon Units can come packaged in anything from a quartet to a ten-piece ensemble replete with horns and textured backing vocals.  The exact line-up is your choice.

To book the Moon Units for your bar or private event, send an e-mail to dris79@gmail.com.  Or call 213-973-9526 and they'll get back to you.

They know untold billions of songs, but feel free to make requests.  Just promise me, as your favorite DJ, that it won't be Jefferson Airplane.  Some jewels are too sacred to touch.

Space Junk

Before I left Earth in 1977, I made my home in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles, California.  My listeners know this as the home of KTSH-FM, which beams my interplanetary broadcasts Thursday nights from 12-1am.

But California is known for more than just mind-expanding radio.  In fact, I consider it no small coincidence that the state was a leader in Earth's exploration of outer space.  That's why I found this New York Times article so satisfying.

According to the article, my home state's Historical Commission has endowed preservation status on the following:

- 2 small urine collection devices
- 4 space sickness bags
- "dozens of other pieces of detritus"

Now you might be asking yourself why the Commission would take action to protect items that can be found everywhere from Greyhound stations to Axl Rose's front lawn.  The reason... is that these particular items are located on the moon!

Milford Wayne Donaldson, the state historic preservation officer, said the reasoning behind the first-of-its-kind designation was simple: Scores of California companies worked on the Apollo mission, and much of their handiwork remains of major historical value to the state, regardless of where it is now or what it was for used for then.

Now when the Times speaks of "the moon," I assume the reference is to Earth's moon, not the Lost Moon of Jupiter, where I make my home.

But should the historical commission want to preserve some space junk located a bit farther out into the galaxy, I'm pretty sure I could round up some Burger King wrappers and Mick Jagger solo albums to contribute toward their cause.

Happy Birthday, Captain Beefheart

A lot of great people were born on January 15. Martin Luther King, Jr. comes to mind. So does Grover Lowdermilk-- a member of the infamous Chicago Black Sox and owner of the greatest name in baseball history.

But the name that's most synonymous with this date in my mind is Captain Beefheart-- a singer, composer, artist and harmonica player extraordinaire. When I finally get around to ranking the San Fernando Valley's all-time best contributions to culture at large, Captain Beefheart is going to be on that list.

I can still remember the first time I heard Trout Mask Replica when it came out in June 1969. As those first crashing chords pummeled through the hi-fi, it was like being transported to a magical world where the lava lamps glowed the color of mud, and when the birds opened their beaks to chirp, experimental noise-rock came out instead. It was incredible-- enough to make you no longer care that the tabs of acid you bought on Vineland Avenue turned out to be Guatemalan postage stamps.

Although it would be 8 more years before I left Earth for the Lost Moon of Jupiter, I'd like to think that in some small way, Captain Beefheart inspired that journey.

And if not... well I do know his name inspired me to enter a Slim Jim-eating contest later that summer.