Back in 2010, I had the privilege of interviewing one of my all-time musical heroes, Southside Johnny. For a guy who spends most of his time writing about slap shots, curveballs, and blown umpire calls, sitting down with the man who gave us “Hearts of Stone” felt like being called up to the big leagues. As a lifelong fan of Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes—his music has been my constant companion from the day I got my driver’s license to the moment I got my AARP card—this interview was a bucket-list moment. Over the years, I’ve been lucky enough to see him in action everywhere from intimate venues to large arenas and stadiums. I’ve seen him bring the house down alongside Springsteen and even perform in the Stadium Series at Yankee Stadium—proving that he’s just as comfortable rocking out in front of a hockey rink as he is on the Jersey Shore. Today, I find myself revisiting that 2010 interview for bittersweet reasons. After 50 years of nonstop touring and bringing Jersey soul to stages across the world, Southside Johnny Lyon announced his retirement from the road due to health concerns. And if there’s one thing I know about this legend, he’s earned every standing ovation, encore, and celebratory round of applause he’s ever gotten. So, let’s take a look back at our conversation, where Southside shared his stories, wit, and unmistakable charm—traits that have made him a treasure on and off the stage.
From the moment I booked Southside, I counted down the days to the interview, eagerly looking forward to welcoming a true musical legend to Sports Talk New York. So, when the time came to introduce my guest, I couldn't help but relish the moment: “Welcome to the show, Mr. Lyon, better known as Southside Johnny.” His response was as quintessentially Southside as it gets: “I’m glad to be here, although it’s late for me,” he quipped, before adding with his signature wit, “I would provide the alcoholic beverages, and I would consume them.”
It was clear from the start we were in for a fun conversation.
As Sportstalkny was primarily a sports talk radio show, we did feature lots of pop culture guests during its 17-year run, but I always tried finding a sports connection. I tried to bridge our worlds by drawing parallels between the camaraderie of sports and the community of music. “Growing up, going to a baseball game with your dad is like a rite of passage. It’s one of those things you pass down through generations,” I began. “Music is kind of like that now. So many bands have these long careers, and parents get to take their kids to see the same bands they saw as teenagers. I took my son to see you in Brooklyn a few years ago. When you think about your music in that context, how does it feel as an artist?””
Southside paused for a moment before responding thoughtfully. “Well, it makes me feel great,” he said. He then shared a poignant story about his own father. “My father was a musician when he was young, too. But it was the Depression in the ’30s, and it was very, very tough. He got a job at the post office and stayed there 40 years. When I started playing, I got a job at the post office, too, just to make some money. And he said, ‘Don’t do it. If you’re going to be a musician, be a musician. Forget the post office.’”
That memory stuck with him, but now, as fans bring their kids—and even their grandkids—to his shows, Southside couldn’t help but joke, “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
As we dove deeper into the conversation, I couldn’t resist bringing up how much the music industry has transformed over the decades. “When I was a teenager, I’d listen to WNEW-FM. I’d count on Scott Muni or Carol Miller to play a track from an album coming out in a few weeks. I’d know exactly when to go to the record store. Now, there are no more stations like that. It’s all iTunes, Spotify, or whatever’s trending online. How has that changed the way you promote your music?”
“Some ways are better,” Southside admitted. “With the Internet, you can connect directly with fans. You don’t have to rely on a program director or a radio station. It’s great when radio plays your records because they reach everywhere, but if you can’t get that, at least you’ve got Facebook, YouTube, and your own website.”
He explained how the Internet has created a community around his music. “The fans really drive the website,” he said. “We have fans from England and Europe who come to shows and stay at each other’s houses. We’re kind of just this side trip for them—they’re all good friends now.” With a self-deprecating laugh, he added, “Of course, it’s harder for me to get played. I don’t look like Lady Gaga.”
I shifted gears, drawing a comparison to sports. “You know, in sports, there are athletes like who really get it—they respect those who came before them. And seeing you perform, I can say you get it. You honor the greats who came before you, like in your covers of Walk Away, Renée, Into the Mystic, and Stagger Lee. Where does that respect and tradition come from for you?”
His answer was steeped in nostalgia. “I was lucky growing up,” he began. “My parents loved music, and they didn’t treat it like background noise. They listened to Louis Armstrong, Count Basie, Ray Charles, and Billie Holiday with such intensity. They’d come home, have a couple of beers, and put on their 78s. My dad would even pull out his trumpet, though that was always a disaster,” he said with a grin.
Southside’s upbringing instilled a deep respect for music. “I remember lying in bed with speakers right next to my ears, listening to Benny King, Otis Redding, and Sam and Dave. The music just transported me. To think that someone might do the same with one of my songs is mind-boggling.”
We pivoted to his roots in Ocean Grove, New Jersey, and his status as the so-called “godfather of the Jersey sound.” True to form, Southside took issue with the title. “Godfather? More like great-grandfather by now,” he joked. But when it came to describing the Jersey sound, he was more earnest. “There’s no real Jersey sound—it’s more of an ethos. It was a very blue-collar vibe. We played bars where you couldn’t just be cool; you had to really work to entertain people. You had to put up some real emotion.”
That ethos shaped Southside’s career, from his early R&B-infused albums to his more recent, guitar-heavy work. When I asked if his latest album’s rock sound was a deliberate choice, he confirmed, “It was. The economy was down, people were struggling, and I thought, ‘We need kick-ass rock and roll.’ People coming to our shows need two hours to forget their troubles, to sweat, sing, and dance.”
The result was a raw, raucous album written in the unlikeliest of places. “My keyboard player, Jeff Kazee, and I wrote it in his finished basement. We’d kick the kids out, sit down, and write these Stones- and Little Feat-inspired songs.” He brought in guitarist Andy York to complement longtime Duke Bobby Bandiera, and the two delivered exactly what Southside envisioned. “It’s all about that energy,” he said.
As we started to talk about his then-latest album, Pills and Ammo, the conversation naturally veered into some of the deeper themes of his music. One song in particular, “One More Night to Rock,” seemed especially autobiographical—and even more so now as he steps away from touring.
I started by quoting the song's opening lines:
“Long in a tooth, short of breath, nothing to look forward to but a lonesome death. Washed up, wrung out, ready to pop, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ah, but comes a night, the juices start to flow. One more chance to get it right. Turn it up, let it go. That’s what makes life worth living for.”
“Now,” I asked, “I hope I’m not insulting you, but this feels very autobiographical?”
He laughed. “It’s completely autobiographical. Are you kidding me?”
So naturally, I pressed further: “Do you feel old when you’re out on tour?”
His answer was classic Southside Johnny: honest and reflective, but with that Jersey edge. “Playing music? No, not at all. It’s still 18, you know? It retains its age if you let it. If the band kicks in and the music takes you, then there is no age. It’s just the same thing you grew up with—the ability to really lose it. Lose yourself, lose your ego, lose everything that bothers you, and just revel in the music. That’s what we used to do listening to rock and roll, and it’s the same on stage.
“Whatever’s bothering you, it all ceases to exist. You’re part of rock and roll. That’s what it’s all about.”
Listening to him explain that, it struck me how much “One More Night to Rock” isn’t just about defying age—it’s about embracing those fleeting, electric moments where you feel truly alive. It reminded me of Bruce opening his Giants Stadium concert with “Wrecking Ball.” There’s a defiance in songs like these, a challenge to time itself. “Was that what you were going for?” I asked.
“That’s exactly it,” he said. “You live for those moments when the music connects you to the audience, to the history of it all. Everything else is just a push. But when that connection hits, those are your moments—you really feel alive.”
We also talked about Pills and Ammo’s lighter side, like the Jimmy Buffett-esque “Umbrella in My Drink,” where the so-called “Grandfather of the Jersey Sound” muses about escaping the brutal New Jersey winters. I couldn’t resist joking, “That’s like Buffett saying he’s sick of Key West and moving to Alaska. What’s up with that?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Everyone in the middle of winter feels that way, don’t they? I had to dig my damn car out five times last year. After that, you start thinking Florida—or Costa Rica or Guam—doesn’t sound so bad.”
Here’s a fun twist to the story of Southside Johnny, a guy whose musical talent clearly extends beyond the stage and somehow ended up entangled with movies and television—though I’m convinced he only did it for the free food.
Back in the day, Southside dabbled in the movie business, taking on the role of "technical advisor" for *Eddie and the Cruisers*. If you haven’t seen this cult classic, don’t worry—it’s on a cable channel near you every other week. When asked what that job entailed, Johnny summed it up in his classic, no-nonsense way: “I yelled.” Apparently, the crew would show up with movie clips that didn’t match the era the film was set in—1957 through 1961—and Johnny would immediately veto them. “No, no, no,” he’d say. Then, alongside Martin Davidson (the director) and Kenny Vance (the music director), he hunted down the perfect songs. That’s where John Cafferty came in with his Beaver Brown Band. “They are 50s, teens, early 60s songs. It fits perfectly,” Johnny recalled.
But his real contribution to Eddie and the Cruisers might have been as the “resident yeller.” “I was a real dictator,” he admitted. He screamed at musicians for not looking like they were actually playing their instruments and berated audiences who dared to interrupt him while he was working. The director, poor Marty, would apparently hide behind the camera while Johnny went full drill sergeant. And yet, Southside remembers the experience fondly. “They gave me a little bit of money, I hung around, ate at the commissary, and got to chill with the actors. It was kind of fun.”
Fast forward a few years, and suddenly Johnny is on the big screen again—this time with the Jukes in Adventures in Babysitting, If you don’t remember much about that frat house scene, it’s understandable; a young Elizabeth Shue kind of steals the spotlight. Still, there’s Southside, leading the band. Then, just to keep things Jersey, he popped up playing himself on The Sopranos. You’d think these brushes with Hollywood would have sparked a love of acting. Nope. Southside absolutely hates it.
“It’s boring,” he declared. “You get up at six o’clock, five-thirty in the morning, put makeup on, and in about four hours, they’ll call you to do five minutes. Then you go back and sit there for another four hours. It’s ridiculous. It is work for stupid people.”
He was quick to exempt Steven Van Zandt, though. “Little Steven is constantly working. He’s got three phones going, a computer, and all this other stuff. Then when they call him for a scene, the acting interrupts him, not the other way around.”
Southside Johnny, ever the straight shooter. Music is clearly his lifeblood. The Hollywood glitz? Well, that’s just a mildly amusing sidebar. If anything, it gave him more stories to yell about.
And so, the curtain falls on a remarkable 50-year run. Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes may no longer be hitting the road, but their music will keep the spirit of Jersey soul alive for generations to come. Sure, it’s bittersweet—like saying goodbye to an old friend who’s been there for every heartbreak, celebration, and “one more night to rock.” But rather than dwell on the sadness, let’s celebrate the joy they’ve brought to countless fans, from the boardwalks of Asbury Park to concert halls around the world.
For me, their music has been a trusted companion through life’s ups and downs. I’ve sung along to “Talk to Me” in my car, danced to “Trapped Again” at parties, and even quoted “I Don’t Want to Go Home” a little too dramatically after late nights out. Southside’s shows were more than concerts—they were experiences, filled with sweat, soul, and the kind of camaraderie you don’t just find anywhere.
So, here’s to Southside Johnny Lyon and his Jukes: thanks for the memories, the melodies, and the laughter. You may have traded the stage lights for the comfort of home, but your music will always echo wherever there’s a stereo, a soul, and a little Jersey grit. As Southside himself might say, “Hey, Mr. DJ, keep that record playing, because I’m having such a good time dancing with my baby." The music never stops, the rhythm never fades, and the spirit of the Jukes lives on, bringing us all together one last time to celebrate the joy they’ve given us. From the first note to the last encore, Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes made every moment feel like a celebration, and now, as we move forward, we’ll keep the dance floor alive with the same passion, the same energy, and the same love for the music that has always been there. So, let the record spin, and let the good times roll—because it’s always time for one more dance.