No More Vintage

by Just Just

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These songs were recorded in a practice space off the Montrose L stop in Brooklyn, mostly during the hours of 9am-5pm in the months of December 2010 and January 2011. The windows in the space overlook a large industrial area with old train cars and garbage.


released February 10, 2011

All songs written, played, recorded, mixed, petted, stroked, and cared for by Justin Ripley.

Thanks to Tyler Anderson, Susan Ripley and Ryan Zorad for spiritual guidance.

Album artwork by the very talented Tara Sloan.

Thank you to the following people who, knowingly or not, loaned me gear to record with for this album: Tyler Anderson, Rustine Bragaw, Trevis Stewart, Luis Fruelas, Scott Reed, Tara Sloan.



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Just Just Brooklyn, New York

Just Just is traveling around, doing stuff.

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Track Name: She Spoke Husband
She spoke husband and knew which high fives to make, which fork to use and which orgasm to fake. After we worked out the kinks it was all suddenly roses. She chose this perfect living room mirror to check her new bomb ass ear rings in. Hiiiiiin. She taught me how best to stroll and balance a broom on my nose. She chose this buffet table to put our booze on now it all matches and everything goes. Haaaa. She's into this empire thing whatever that means, whatever that means. I think I know what that means, wait, what does that mean? And she's accent free, she's never been anywhere.
Track Name: Slow Lavender
It's been slow, it's been lavender, it's been slow lavender, let's spend the winter. It's been bleak and it's been pale and paleness shall embark upon the afternoon. Let's spend the winter inside.

It's been casual and then there was ice. It's been casual icing. Keep it real when you feel like a seal. Let's spend the winter inside.
Track Name: Said The Night
Said the night: I will let you see both gravy boats in my sky.

You see, my neighborhood is hispanic now. And we're loving it so far, as we can see both ladels on either side of the sky. You see them smoking cigs on the roof. I have ceiling to illumine and sleeping next to brick is solid. The food bazaar overfloweth cumin. Soon in time I'll know thanks in spanish and banish all prior embellishments, except this: a tornado followed us in. Few arrivals match it and now we play warm renditions of yesterday everyday.

Said the night...
Track Name: Walk In Closet
As long as I've known you, and I've known you a while, you've never been a material girl. We don't own quote "things", we have no room left, no dead air. It's not just you other girls share your flair. I know how to treat this weakness. I've got a notion to posit. I'll build a walk-in closet to put your shoes in, Susan.

Everyone should be able to have one special crutch that they don't have to feel bad about. Because you look pretty when you're happy. So show off your new shoes with a laid back pirouette.

Thank god your feet don't change size.
Track Name: Sugar Is
The blues is what I've got.
Sadness is an empty lawn.
Style is the gear you don.
Signaled sleep is a yawn.

Complaining is high pitched.
Loss is unmanly results.
Tumultuous is a rocky sea.
A sea increasing is tide high, a tide too high is a flood.

Sugar is crystallized sweet.
Sugar is everytime we meet.
This is the logic of us.

The exception is when I have the blues.
My mood is not what I choose.
Dear, my looking is authentic attention.

A flower is a light judge.
All my sight is the flora.
Your answer is a bridge over the empty lawn.
Track Name: I Out Rad You
I out rad you. One of the sad few to hit every step of the ladder. One of the former not the latter.

I out rad you. Cranking out the gospel and staying at hostels for free. Let me be a platonic ideal.

If you need me I'll be hanging out on cheddar island with the rest of the crackers.

I out rad you. Yes, it was mentioned. That actually happened. I'm my own cottage industry.

I out rad you. I'm an unanswered opera. They'll retire my florescent hat in the rafters of shame.
Track Name: Overripe Prostitutes
I think that they think about stars and perfume. I think that you think it's well wishing to assume. There's a certain radiance niche, a blond youthfulness to assume every man an opportunity missed.

I think that they think about a rock migration, but what I don't know is prostitutes might be a whole different situation.
Track Name: Theft Forgives When Left Alone
I flung paraphrase. What a lovely image that makes. I'm viewing the clock, theft forgives when left alone.

Above his prey the fox howls arching in wheat above the owls. Underwater smiles moan, theft forgives when left alone.

Blow on his burning. Turn the aimless kid 180. He's turned white among white logs, theft forgives when left alone.

I'll accept a handle to pull. I'm growing humorous madness. Can I speak so brutally? Theft forgives when left alone.

The only witness shutters. Towards the hill the owls flutter. Every utterance hence, theft forgives when left alone.
Track Name: No More Vintage
Don't buy her a vintage dress, although her price point is very much less than the high fashion she's obsessed with.

Man, all the time I try to put on something new too, but all these polo shirts and backwards baseball caps still fit me pretty good.

If you wear a cardigan you can look like a hipster or a grandpa, depends on how you wear it. I know a lot of young grandfathers.
Track Name: An Immigrant
He'd go heart fishing when he first got to town. His senses were reactors reacting. And it all sounded diamonds. Environments got lazier. And it's not upon me to say how he got undeniably plain. Could he be so urban to never leave the house? It's now obvious to people Sappho's town struck, too inside and burning up. Handcuffed to maintain. It's the familiar now that bows to the future wow.