Karina Rykman wants you to leave Earth for a little while. Not literally, necessarily.
The New York bassist, singer and songwriter has built a reputation for high-energy live performances, both as a solo artist and through her work with other musicians. Her first solo album "Joyride" released in 2023 introduced audiences to her blend of punk, funk, rock and psychedelic energy, while her live shows have become something of an experience of their own.
And now, on her new record "Late Checkout," Rykman keeps returning to a familiar destination: somewhere far away from home.
The song "Spacecase" is about throwing your phone into a lake, losing your keys and discovering the freedom that comes from becoming unreachable. Another example is "Riverside Drive," where Rykman sings, "I'm back from outer space," after spending a long stretch on the road. Then there is "Zoom Out," a song about being overwhelmed, running from place to place and looking down at Earth from an airplane window.
It turns out the space references aren't entirely accidental.
"Spacecase is most certainly about disappearing from the world, and taking solace in that disappearance," Rykman told Space.com. "It's about being a 'space cadet,' if you will — forgetting keys, tossing your phone in the lake, and feeling so great to finally be disconnected such that you can start living again."
That idea of disconnecting from the world runs throughout the record.
In "Riverside Drive," outer space becomes a metaphor for the strange experience of returning home after spending time on the road.
"When you come home from a long tour, it can sometimes feel like you're an alien trying to communicate with everyone you left behind," Rykman said.
Touring creates its own universe, she explained. There are inside jokes that don't make sense back home, irregular sleep and meal schedules, nights spent on couches and floors, and a "secret language" shared with the touring crew.
"So, in 'Riverside Drive,' when I say 'Time to go home / heart rate's a dial tone / I'm back from outer space / need a place to lay low,' it's that yearning feeling of being so burnt out and wanting to seek refuge in a familiar place," she said.
Then there's "Zoom Out."
The song isn't exactly about space. Rykman has described it as being about flying on a plane. But the view from an airplane window provides exactly the kind of perspective that she finds appealing.
"Zoom Out tries to capture the feeling of being stretched way too thin and wildly overwhelmed," she said. "But then as you see the Earth minimize while ascending into the sky, all your worries and problems become negligible." Rykman added "I love how it makes me feel insignificant."
That feeling of insignificance isn't necessarily a bad thing.
In a world where phones, notifications, social media and constant communication make it increasingly difficult to disappear, Rykman finds being out of reach liberating.
"It's probably a symptom of feeling over-connected in this day and age," she said. "The desire to escape into the unknown, or to merely wax poetic about how freeing that could be, appeals to me. Transcendence, man."
I got a taste of that idea firsthand at Rykman's recent show at Webster Hall in New York City on Sept. 25, 2026.
The combination of Rykman's extended jams, psychedelic light show and joyous energy made the concert feel less like simply watching a band perform and more like temporarily stepping away for the normal day-to-day.
At one point, Grammy Award-winner Robert Randolph joined Rykman onstage, sitting in on "Spacecase" with his unmistakable pedal steel guitar. It was a fitting moment for a song about disappearing from the world. For a few minutes, the audience was somewhere else entirely.
And that's exactly what Rykman wants her live shows to accomplish.
"In such a huge way, YES!" she said when asked whether creating that escape is part of what she loves about performing. "I like to give people two hours away from their normal existence at my shows. And I like to feel myself disappear into the music and transcend time and space."
Every show, she said, is an attempt to create an oasis.
"We all come together and forget our earthly problems just for a bit — every night on stage we try to create an oasis, and to revel in it."
Maybe that's why the space imagery fits Rykman's music so naturally. Sometimes it takes a plane window, a long drive home, a phone tossed into a lake or a two-hour jam at Webster Hall.
And if Rykman actually had the chance to leave Earth for a day, she already knows where she's going.
"Straight to the Karina Nebula, of course!" she said. "My home away from home!"
