THE TIES THAT BIND – INTERVIEW BY J.M.BOUINEAU & ROGER GOULET
Southside Johnny’s new release, “Spittin’Fire”, captures live acoustic performances from his fall 1995 European Tour. The Centerpiece of that Tour was an extensive series in Paris at the Chesterfield Café where Southside – along with Bobby Bandiera, Rusty Cloud and David Hayes – ran through an astounding number of covers and originals, both old and new, over ten nights. All the material on “Spittin’ Fire” is taken from that ten night stand in Paris. It’s a city where Johnny has spend quite a bit of time, and that’s where JEAN-MARC BOUINEAU and Badlands correspontent ROGER GOULET caught up with him for the UK fanzine “The Ties That Bind”.
Southside talks about his career, the creative process, and happy endings.
Whose idea was it to play the Chesterfield Cafe?
It happened just like that . Bobby Bandiera and I were attending the Paris Record Fair in April 95 to see Little Bob Story at a signing session and we met Steven Jump from Badlands there. He had heard that we were doing some acoustic shows in the U.S. and asked us to come and do some in England. I wanted us to play as a quartet, but the first time around it was just me and Bobby in London and Sheffield. At the Mean Fiddler we were asked to come back wit a pianist and then the Chesterfield Cafe heard about us and offered us ten dates.
Is that the first time you’ve played such 8 long residency at one particular club?
Yes, certainty since my first album at the Stone Pony in 76.
What’s different between playing with the Jukes and this semi-acoustic format?
It’s easier because I have more freedom. I can start any song and whether they know it or not doesn’t matter! Although I do this with the Jukes, it’s more difficult for them to improvise. Anyway Rusty, Bobby and David know thousands of songs. It sounds better as I don’t have to fight against the brass section. It’s softer and more intense.
Away from music, who are your favorite artist: writers, film makers…?
I like John Huston, James Joyce and painters like Caraggio, Vermeer, Roger Campion. I don’t appreciate too much abstract expressionism, but I adore the great Chester Jones. He’s exhibiting at present in New York and I want to go see it. Film-wise, I’ve always liked hard-boiled cinema-Film Noir. It’s a shame it’s become so fashionable. When I was a kid we watched those Films from the 40s and 50s on the family TV set in black and white in the middle of the night. My brother and I watched stuff like Kiss Me DeadIy and other stupid things – we loved ‘Ëœem. I didn’t like the big Hollywood films. They looked artificial and didn’t concern us, but stuff about giant spiders that ate everyone in town-that was great! I also saw some French movies at a cinema in Asbury Park, but I forget the names of the directors.
Jean-Pierre Melville?
Yeah, Melville… he came up with stories that gave you the creeps. A woman killed her husband and you sat on the edge of your seat to sec how she was going to be found out. Sometimes the got away wit it and that was brilliant because at that time you weren’t allowed to get away wit it in Hollywood; the murderer had to pay I saw a film a few years ago in a small cinema-pure emotion which wore you out, really intense. Later I heard they’d remade the film in Hollywood with a happy ending. Completely stupid.
Don’t you like happy endings, generally speaking?
You can’t put it as simply as that . Have you seen Independence Day? I was on the extraterrestrials’ side, and I was upset when they finally lost. If they had destroyed the human race it wouldn’t have been too bad…
Your music isn’t that dark…
No, but what’s really funny is that some upbeat-sounding songs aren’t really like that at all. “I Don’t Wanna Go Home” is not a happy song.
How do you stay motivated after all these years?
It’s hard after 30 years. I need new stimuli, something to make me want to carry on, because I don’t think that I have everything yet with the Jukes. We always have projects in common on the go but it gets more difficult, besides the fact that we haven’t worked together since last March. It is difficult to maintain enthusiasm when you’rc singing the same songs over and over again.
Have you written any new stuff?
Yeah, loads. “Blue Radio” which is on the album, is one of them, but the rest aren’t quite ready.
You always create something new at every show. It must be exciting in one way but risky in another.
What’s good about being on tour is that it’s new every night, unless you’re in one of those boring rock shows where everything’s planned in advance. With the Jukes one would never know what would happen – not even me. It’s less evident now; and perhaps it’s time to move on.
Could you live without concerts?
I don’t know; It’s been thirty years. I think so, but I’m not sure. I can’t afford not to. I don’t know; I can’t really answer this question.
You’ve performed thousands of concerts.
We did two or three hundred shows a year when we got started. We played all the time and it was great even though it’s hard to be on the road and to have to get up every night to do something special. You’ve got to love this job otherwise, it’s a nightmare. That’s why I prefer to do nothing for a while to see if, when I come back, the spark’s still there when I sing. That said, I really loved the acoustic tour. Perhaps we’ll do some more.
The Jukes have played many times in Paris. What do you do while you are here?
I meet people, visit museums, I eat until I’m sick, I drink a lot of wine. It’s easy to work in Paris compared to other places. I took three hours to walk to the Marais and look at those fantastically dressed women. It’s a great City.
Do you know Gustav Moreau’s house ?
Yeah, sure. I love the place. I’ve been there twice. It’s great. The guy’s completely mad. It’s very similar to Terry Gilliam’s universe. Some paintings are so big you can’t take them out of the house. You’d have to destroy the place to get them out. His family looked after him so that he didn’t have to worry about money. Money is always a problem when you want to create things. It’s a big preoccupation.
Only in certain areas. If you’re making movies it’s always a problem, but it’s not necessary if you’re writing songs on an acoustic guitar. You can do that anytime you like. For painting it’s about the same if you’ve got the money to buy paints and canvas. A lot of people couldn’t do it though, like Van Gogh, who was always asking his brother for money for paints.
Is it hard to earn cash like that?
Ahh, because you want to eat as well? No, you can’t do both. You paint or you eat. When I started singing in groups we didn’t earn money; we got paid on the side for lodging, food, etc. That teaches you the value of what you do. You don’t do it for glory or money.
Have you always done exactly what you wanted?
Not exactly but mainly I do what I want irrespective of whether it’s good or bad for my career.
Is it a matter of principle?
No, it’s because I’m spoiled. I’ve always been spoiled and I’ve always acted like that. There are a lot of things in my life which would have brought me lots of money or a certain kind of popularity but they weren’t what I wanted. I don’t think about it in terms of better or worse. What’s certain is that I would never be wealthy like Bruce, for instance, but tat doesn’t really count. Everything that happens seems right, even the hard times. If you behave in a certain way you’ve got to expect the bad aspects of life that this attitude implies.
What would you really do in the future?
I don’t know, that’s why I don’t do anything. It’s funny with this new album coming out. All I did was play on it, somebody else did all the rest. That’s good, because I wouldn’t have had the initiative. If it had been left up to me it probably wouldn’t have come out-which might have been a good ting!
Do you want to change your job?
I don’t want any job, I don’t want to do anything just for the sake of it.
I took a small break and crossed the States for a month’s driving. I want to do it again when I go home. It’s great, because it means you don’t have to answer to anybody. I’m against all that sort of planning where you have to be some place at a certain time. I don’t want to be there anymore. It’s simply a reaction to what I’ve done until now.
That’s freedom.
No, I think I’ve simply arrived at the end of the road. I’m worn out. It is freedom, I suppose. I’m perfectly happy to read eight hours a day and then the next day take the car and just drive. It’s about all I want to do, except for collecting records. I put an advert in my local paper and that’s become my principle occupation. I don’t have any goal in my life and it’s absolutely superb. I spent so many years preoccupied with making music that today I feel that the time has come to relax a bit.
Is it easy for you to write?
Generally I take it as it comes. Noting planned. I sit down and say to myself, ,It’s time to write, and then wait for the inspiration to come. Sometimes it works, but what I write doesn’t really reflect my personality I’m not disciplined like, say, Hemingway was, getting up at five in the morning. I have to learn to be patient.
What state are you in after a concert? Do you think about what happened?
Sometimes I may listen to the recording, and every time it’s different. Some people love the shows that I think are passable, and vice-versa. That’s why I think it’s stupid to try to analyze these sorts of tings, especially when you’re the last person capable of doing it.
When you’re onstage do you adopt a different persona?
No I’m not one of those kind of people. What you see is what you get. I don’t play a role onstage. I’m the same on stage or offstage. Stage is more intense, but I’m the same guy who plays pinball.
BY JEAN-MARC BOUINEAU and ROGER GOULET
Copyright (c) 1997-1999 The Ties That Bind – UK
