It occurs to me that I need to write something that immediately grabs one’s attention. Perhaps something controversial. Something with panache and style and grandeur. But I won’t. Because this is a blog. A blog about nothing. Well, it’s technically about Jumpship Astronaut, but I usually end up going on some tangential rant about spaghetti or Donny Most, so it’s probably fine.
I should mention that ol’ JSA just finished recording and mixing a five-song EP with the Coke Zero and Aquafina-addicted former guitarist for Chainsaw Kittens and Flaming Lips producer Trent Bell. We’ll be mastering it next week and we’re working with the good people over at The Society on photography and cover art. Spring 2013 is a good estimation of when the record will be out and, odds are, it’ll be available online first. So gird your loins, children, as my grandma always used to say (she could still say it, for all I know. She’s been dead since 1999, but I imagine the crypt is a strange, whimsical place where such statements are not only encouraged, but necessary).
We’re playing a show this weekend at the HiLo in Oklahoma City with Feathered Rabbit, which should be fun. The HiLo is one of those dark, smoky places that bring out the deviance in everyone, so I’m sure it’ll be good once the booze starts pouring and the music and lights start up. Plus, we’ve got a ton of upcoming shows throughout the area, so keep your eyes open, crazies.
Now that the business is out of the way, I want to talk briefly about the use of recitative in Mozart’s later operas. Just kidding, I’m going to talk about butts. Big ol’ luscious butts. Actually, I’m not going to do that either (but I am now thinking about big, luscious butts). See, this is exactly what I meant when I previously wrote about my inclination toward the tangential. I honestly wasn’t sure what else I was going to write about, so I thought, “Just wing it, Ryan! Something good will come of it” and here we are. It’s an odd thing when you sit down to write something with almost nothing prepared. Believe it or not, I usually plan out what I’m going to share with you lovely, dirty people. But tonight, I thought I’d do something a little different. This is the textual equivalent of amateur free jazz or a jam band that’s on minute 13 of the same meandering E minor vamp. Fun fact: I do pretty mean impressions of Christopher Walken and Casey Kasem. I’ve got an okay Jeff Goldblum that I feel gets the spirit of the guy right, but it’s pretty lacking in execution. Did any of you guys ever see The Fly? That was Goldblum’s finest hour. And, speaking of The Fly, I have an insatiable sexual attraction to young Geena Davis. You show me A League of Their Own or Thelma and Louise or even Beetlejuice and I’ll show you a man with an occasional erection. This is all you’re getting, guys. If you’re still reading this, then you’re either a masochist or my mother.