A Weird Solo Trip
After a fall with four separate, short solo getaways, my wife, Terrie, and I had long looked forward to a mid-December weekend together in Alexandria, Virginia, to see my favorite musician, Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes.
But life threw some curveballs at us.
Roxie, our 18-month-old husky-shepherd mix, came down with kennel cough just a few days before we were to depart. Because dogs can’t be boarded if they’re sick, we scrambled for alternative ideas. But nothing seemed quite right; kennel cough or not, Roxie’s energy is such that she can’t be trusted alone for hours out of her crate during the day. We couldn’t find anyone to stay at our house, and Roxie’s illness came too late for us to get a refund of our rental in Virginia.
Terrie took one for the team and decided to stay home with Roxie. As it turned out, she didn’t miss too much.
Southside Johnny, who recently celebrated his 76th birthday, abruptly left the stage, seemingly upset with himself, amid the fifth song of his set Saturday night at The Birchmere, the popular club where I’d seen him half a dozen times. He didn’t return, but the Jukes, a talented and eclectic set of musicians, soldiered on for an hour, giving a rousing performance in their leader’s absence, playing a mix of Jukes favorites, covers and some of the band members’ own songs.
Southside Johnny is one of the best to arrive out of the Jersey shore scene, a close friend of Bruce Springsteen and Steven Van Zandt and mentor to Jon Bon Jovi. I’ve seen Southside play more than 60 times in the past 45 years. I always dreamed of catching one of those “special” nights when he’d be joined on stage by The Boss or Bon Jovi and no one would ever want the night to end.
Alas, it is entirely possible I did catch a “special” night—the night “Uncle South,” as he’s often referred to, left the stage. Somehow, Roxie being sick and not being able to have a getaway vacay with Terrie seemed unimportant.
This group has been a musical anchor of my life, more so than Springsteen. I attended a Jukes show in New York in recovery from my father’s funeral in 1982. I last attended a Jukes show solo in Charlotte in February 2015 amid a breakup with a then girlfriend. The next night, I went to a show in Durham that is notable because it represents what Terrie to this day insists was our first date. Even though we didn’t really begin “going out” until three months later.
The last time we’d seen the band was two years ago at The Birchmere, and we got a treat after that show when we were escorted backstage to meet the band and Southside Johnny himself. This was thanks to our friendship with the Jukes’ masterful guitarist, Glenn Alexander, whom we got to know from the earliest days of the pandemic. (Remember Facebook Live and the alternative ways musicians managed to keep the connection with fans?)
I chatted briefly with Glenn after the Saturday show and offered holiday cheer to him and the band in the form of my homemade chocolate chip cookies. Food had become a connective tissue during his weekly Covid-19 Friday night concerts, which Terrie memorably paid tribute to on her blog back in 2021.
Since the weekend show, I’ve found myself fretting about “Uncle South” and the future of the group that has been such a permanent part of the life of this horn-loving, blues-rock aficionado. I don’t know if Saturday was a momentary blip or something more, but if this was it for Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes, I’m glad I was there.