Well, friends, it's been almost a year exactly since I quit my job at KTSH in a dramatic gesture of principle. Have these been the smoothest eleven months of my life? No. But they've been full of rediscovery and opportunity, and I have to say the future is really looking bright.
Case in point: I've been asked to do a guest DJ spot this week on Orange County's favorite classic rock station KXOJ (The Juice!). As you know, I've been lining up more and more of this subbing gigs, and this summer's going to be a great time for them, as a lot of the more steadily employed disc jockeys will be taking off on vacation. I think it's only a matter of time before Lost Moon Radio and I find a new permanent home.
I'm especially excited about this week's job because I'll be broadcasting live from the KXOJ Tent at the Orange County Fair. (Stop by and grab a bumper sticker!) So I'm loading up the ol' rocket with travel snacks and plotting a return course for Earth. As always, I'm looking forward to visiting the mother planet, and particularly the OC Fair. I haven't been in a number of years, but as a kid the fair was always one of the highlights of summer for me. I remember it like yesterday: tromping around in a the scorching heat, losing two month's allowance on the carnival games, betting on the pig races while eating chocolate-dipped bacon, and forcing my little brother David onto the tilt-a-whirl. He never wanted to go, but I know deep down he really loved it. The whole place was a kid's dream. I felt like Pinocchio on Pleasure Island, but no one tried to turn me into a donkey.
I also always love the fair for being the site of my first ever rock and roll concert: the Kingston Trio, who I saw under the stars in the open-air amphitheater when I was just seven or eight years old. I can still remember those perfect harmonies, calling my juvenile heart south of the border....
Speaking of musical guests, on the day of my broadcast the OC Fair is going to feature a very exciting pair of them, Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart! The Wilson sisters are old friends of mine from before I left Planet Earth, so I'm really looking forward to seeing their show. I'm hoping I can even convince them to drop by the KXOJ tent for a quick hello on the air. Fingers crossed.
Anyway, you should get tickets to Heart's show at the Pacific Amphitheatre, and you should be sure to check out their new album, Red Velvet Car, which debuted at #11 on the Billboard Album Chart a few months ago. (Not bad for a band that first charted back in 1976.) It's a terrific record, and it continues Heart's triumphant return to their hard rock roots, following up on 2004's underappreciated Jupiters Darling (an album that I won't claim to have inspired ... though I certainly consider myself a member of its target audience).
So tune in this week! In the spirit of the season (and my return trip to Earth) I'm dedicating my broadcast to the theme of Travel, and I'm putting together a set list of terrific tracks. I'll see you at the fair!
It's a cold, blustery night here on the Lost Moon of Jupiter, but here inside my interstellar radio booth, the aliens and I abound with warmth and gratitude. Why, you might ask? Because this past week, Lost Moon Radio made its triumphant return to commercial FM radio!
Those in my erstwhile hometown of Los Angeles probably heard a familiar voice when scanning past SoCal's favorite praise-rock station, KRST, between midnight and 1 am. Yep, that was yours truly preaching the gospel of rock 'n roll on Christian radio, and I think it was a big success-- my inextricable agnosticism notwithstanding.
We heard tracks about karma and tracks about fate... tracks about God and about the Devil... about long-dead Greek deities and about a living one named Leroy. I also learned that my late mother's relationship with Catholicism makes Madonna look like the Pope. And I got more information about Dave Chappelle in a three-minute phone call than Viacom's private detectives have gotten in the past four years of searching his trash bins.
Now a bit of sad news. Despite a highly fulfilling evening back on the commercial airwaves, I won't be returning to KRST. My station contact, Pastor Gary Thompson, and I agreed that Lost Moon Radio wasn't quite the right fit for Christian radio. Specifically, Gary objected to the content of some of my more mind-expanding records, and (privately) I objected to the station's policy of playing Creed at 5, 25, and 45 minutes past each hour.
So the odyssey continues. Lost Moon Radio won't be back on KRST, but it will find a permanent home even if that means DJ-ing a test of the emergency broadcast system. Or even worse... working on AM.
Hello, Earth! Sound the trumpets, because I'm coming at you with some tremendous news! After nine months wandering in the wilderness, far from the light of the FM dial, this intergalactic DJ has finally found a new home for Lost Moon Radio!
I'm pleased to report that my show will be returning to Los Angeles's airwaves for good. My new permanent home: KRST FM: The Lamb of God and Greater Los Angeles.
Now those of you are familiar with the station may be thinking, "Jack, isn't KRST a Christian music station? Since when do you do religious radio?"
Well, you're right. I'm more or less a dyed-in-the-wool agnostic, and KRST will definitely be a format shift. The truth is I've been mailing resumes and proposals down to all the Earthside stations I could think of, and KRST's the first one to get back to me and actually offer me a spot (for reasons that I won't go into at the moment).
So I'm going to try to make it work. I guess my feeling is that religion's really about the search for truth and meaning in this crazy galaxy of ours, and isn't that what Lost Moon Radio's always been about, too?
Now I'm off to sort through my records! I want to make sure I've got the perfect setlist for this new debut. So check the KRST listings and tune in this weekend! They haven't told me my exact timeslot yet, but I'm probably going to filling one of the late-night hours previously occupied by a computer reading selections from First Corinthians.
Well friends, it probably comes as no surprise that my current transitional employment status has led this extraplanetary disc jockey to reflect on the highs and lows of the ol' curriculum vitae. Though I've spent the better part of my adult life in the Steel Tower of Radio, I've also held my share of odd jobs here and there. Some of you may recall my mentioning, in a Tweet of Solidarity with the costumed characters rousted from Hollywood Boulevard last summer, that I once spent two months portraying Happy the Dwarf at Disneyland. I figure I owe you the story.
Like many boys and girls of the 1950s, I spent a large portion of my childhood engaged in a fervent love affair with all things Disney. I was a committed Mouseketeer, an avid collector of Uncle Scrooge comics, and a dedicated viewer of the Disneyland TV series. (I was a little young for the height of the Crockett craze, but I was a great fan of some of their subsequent frontier serials, particularly the ones about Elfego Baca, a Mexican-American lawman portrayed surprisingly convincingly by Robert Loggia.) My preteen imaginative romantic energies were entirely focused, in succession, on Annette Funicello, Haley Mills, and Julie Andrews. And I was fascinated by the feature films about boy genius college student Merlin Jones, whose experiments inspired many failed invention attempts on my part: hovercraft, robot servants, hypnorays. (I also liked that Annette Funicello played his girlfriend.)
By the late sixties, however, my Disney loyalties had been supplanted by a new fixation on rock n' roll and the thriving counterculture. From my parents' Southern California living room, I jealously watched the Summer of Love play out on The CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite. I vowed that the following June I'd be making my own way to San Francisco, as many flowers as possible in my hair. It was only when the next school year ended, and I discovered how much a bus ticket alone would cost, that I realized I was going to need to save up some money. I volunteered to mow our neighbor Mr. Sanderson's lawn, and he paid me a generous fifty cents. When I showed up the next afternoon offering to mow his lawn again, I think he realized I was looking for a more long-term sort of employment. Turned out his brother was mid-level management at Disneyland, and he put in a good word for me. And that's how I, somewhat reluctantly, took a summer job at the Happiest Place on Earth.
People often ask me, "Jack, do you eat sushi on the Lost Moon of Jupiter?"
As you may know, I was present in Southern California for the birth of the American sushi craze, and I rapidly embraced the phenomenon. As a young bachelor DJ, my diet already consisted of a lot of Rice-A-Roni and Gorton's Fish Sticks, so I relished the opportunity to translate those ingredients into a more upscale culinary experience. I recommended the tempura bar at the sublime Tokyo Kaikan restaurant (since closed) numerous times on the air, and I actually introduced Supertramp's Roger Hodgson to his first California Roll. (In gratitude, he presented me with my first tin of kippers.)
But it probably won't surprise you to hear that sushi has been harder to come by in the years since I've moved to space. Contrary to popular belief, there are fish on the Lost Moon, but they live two miles below the surface in a massive subterranean ocean that's very hard to get to. Also, unlike most of the inhabitants of the Lost Moon, the fish tend to be pretty hostile.
So the concept of eating seafood is basically unknown around these parts. (I've introduced the aliens to Mungo Jerry's "In the Summertime," and they're big fans, but the lyrics about "fishing" are totally lost on them.) And while I've repeatedly written to the Gorton's company about having some frozen entrees shipped up here, they've yet to oblige. Apparently, fish doesn't keep very well on a 365 million mile journey across the vacuum of space.
Basically, as far as sushi goes, this interplanetary traveler's learned to live without.
But it looks like my luck's about to change, friends! The brilliant minds at Japanese cosmetics, pharmaceutical, and food product conglomerate Kracie Holdings, Ltd., have finally done for sushi what NASA did for ice cream!
Popin' Cookin'! As soon as I get 258 yen together, you better believe I'm going to get my hands on this intellectual education candy.
For us vintage record collectors, there's always a list of fabled vinyl relics that urges us onward, whether our treasure hunts take us to the garage sales of Boyle Heights or the flea markets of Titan. Every time we flip through a stack of cardboard sleeves, at least some small part of us is hoping, against all odds, to find one of these Golden Fleeces or Holy Grails. Some of them are rare editions of well-known masterpieces, like an original track pressing of The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan or a Butcher Cover edition of The Beatles' Yesterday and Today. But my personal quest visions have always revolved around more obscure 45s, garage rock rarities like the Hush Puppies' "Hey, Stop Messing Around" or Denise and Company's "Boy, What'll You Do Then," singles on forgotten record labels that only ever printed a few hundred (or dozen) copies to begin with.
For many years, one of my favorite, nearly-impossible-to-find records was a 7-inch called "Politicians in My Eyes" by the band Death. Death was a visionary protopunk trio from Detroit, made up of the brothers David, Bobby, and Dannis Hackney. They recorded an album's worth of tracks in the mid-seventies, but their iconoclastic sound (and, according to legend, their refusal to change their decidedly non-commercial name) alienated them to record labels. In 1976, Death put two songs from its studio sessions on a self-released single ("Politicians" and its B-side, "Keep on Knocking"). 500 copies were pressed.
Well folks, I had a blast this weekend subbing in as host of the popular romantic call-in show Love Notes with Veronica. For a thrilling hour on Saturday night, I calibrated the Lost Moon's radio transmitter for Southern California's KUPD and beamed down a line-up of my all-time favorite love tracks. It felt great to be on FM radio again, even if just for one evening, and the whole experience only heightened my resolve to get Lost Moon Radio back on the air in a permanent way in 2011!
I took some listener calls between the tracks (boy, have I missed those!) and while dispensing a bit of encouragement to a Lonely Heart in Encino, I ended up relating an anecdote about my old friend Mary Jankowski and our personal Valentine's Day tradition.
It all started back in the 8th Grade when I decided to ask Mary to the big dance with a homemade Valentine: a picture of Rod Serling glued onto a construction paper heart, upon which I'd written, "Submitted for your approval: will you go to the St. Michael's 8th Grade Cotillion with me?" I slipped it under her desk during morning roll call. At the end of the day she told me she was already going to the dance with Kevin Donnelly, but that my card was the weirdest thing anybody had ever given her.
Friends, Valentine's Day will be here before we know it, and as such, it's time for me to reveal a lifelong crush of mine...
I'm talking about commercial radio. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. True, commercial radio is the beast that brought us shock jocks, Rush Limbaugh, and the ludicrous concept of a Top 40. But she also brought us War of the Worlds, Wolfman Jack, and Jim Ladd. For 30-some odd years, I was proud to call her my special lady.
But as my regular Lost Moon Radio listeners know, this love affair has been on the skids since this past June, and it's been a humbling experience. Sure, I've had my dalliances in the meantime, broadcasting from a high school basement, ruminating into a dictaphone up here on the Lost Moon ... but they're just not the same. Just as Dick Burton couldn't stay long away from Liz, I can't resist the siren's call of wide-band FM. A love as grand as mine can only be measured in megahertz! I've gotta channel my broadcasts through the most powerful transistor towers outside of a U2 concert!
On Saturday night, February 12, I'll be filling for my old industry buddy Ronnie Krantz (better known to many of you simply as "Veronica") on the home of Southern California's softest love hits, KUPD: The Cupid. Ronnie's got an unmissable date that night and she asked me if I could sub for her. Obviously, Love Notes with Veronica's usual blend of easy listening and power ballads is a little different from my regular format, but I'm confident that her base of female adult contemporary fans ages 25 to 54 will adapt comfortably to Lost Moon Radio's brand of psychedelic freeform rock. In the spirit of the approaching holiday, I'm building a set around the theme of "Love."
I hope you catch the show. While I'm only preparing for a one-night stand, I could be ready for a relationship in the right situation. I'm putting myself out there.
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.
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-Ã -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.)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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)
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.
