The thing about talking to a Ramone is that you half-expect them to still be backstage at CBGB’s, leather jacket zipped to the throat, waiting for Dee Dee to count off. But CJ Ramone, who spent seven years as the band’s bassist after Dee Dee’s exit, is calling in from California — where the sun shines, the air is too good for New York, and, apparently, even punk lifers mellow out.
“I was nervous about this one,” CJ admits about his album The Holy Spell. “I lost my buddy Steve Soto last year. He’d played on every record I’ve done. He was a really big part of everything. I was worried about what it would be like without him.”
Soto, who played in the Adolescents, was the kind of musician who leaves fingerprints all over your sound even when he’s gone. CJ says the spirit was still in the room: “Paul Miner, who produced the record, worked with Steve too. We said from the start, ‘He’s gonna be on this record whether or not he’s here.’”
And he is — in the way CJ smiles through sadness. The Holy Spell ends with “Rock On,” a tribute to Soto, continuing a pattern that’s run through his solo catalog. “I didn’t want to be the guy always doing tributes to dead friends,” he says. “But Steve was too big an influence not to. I try not to make it sad — it’s always been about celebrating the people I’ve been lucky enough to know.”
That celebration mindset is all over The Holy Spell. It’s melodic, crunchy, unapologetically bright — more surfboard than subway car. “It’s all about positivity,” he says. “There’s plenty of stuff out there that plays the other side. My thing’s always been to make something uplifting. That’s what I’ve done from the get-go.”
Part of that optimism, it turns out, comes from California. “Huge influence,” he says. “Moving out here was no small thing. But I’ve gone to more shows since I got here than I did in my last two years in New York. The music scene’s alive — local bands, little venues, great weather. It’s been really good for my songwriting.”
He laughs and adds, “I’ve always been a pirate. I can pull into any port and feel at home. But this one’s got better food.”
For a guy who’s logged countless miles as a Marine and as a Ramone, CJ’s music has always been about where he’s at, not where he’s from. “I try to write about the everyday stuff — the nuts and bolts of my world,” he says. “I’m not gonna fake anger or write about things I don’t know. I see things, I live them, and then I write them.”
He name-checks Dave Davies of The Kinks — not the punk touchstone you’d expect. “Dave talked about writing about the people in his town, and that’s what I do. It’s cathartic, it’s real. You see every little booger,” he laughs. “Makes the songs better.”
That self-awareness also colors how he looks at his legacy. The Ramones are being covered by everyone from ukulele players to glam punks like Starcrawler, whose version of “Pet Sematary” CJ loves. “I saw someone mention it on Instagram and went straight to listen,” he says. “It’s great. It’s just that reinvention thing — the Ramones’ music never dies, it just keeps morphing.”
Of course, sometimes that legacy takes strange turns — like Kanye West wearing a Ramones shirt. “I don’t know if he’s actually a fan,” CJ says. “A lot of people at that level have stylists who pick their clothes.” Then he grins. “But Justin Timberlake — he’s the real deal. I’ve got an old friend in his camp. Justin wore a Ramones shirt on stage, pointed at me and my wife from the stage, gave the shirt a tug. That was a cool moment. Just one artist nodding to another.”
That crossover makes him proud. “The Ramones probably crossed more barriers and influenced more people from different genres than any band after the Beatles,” he says. “It’s wild. You’ve got kids coming to shows with their parents — even grandparents who saw us in the ’70s. It’s a family tree that keeps growing.”
But if The Holy Spell feels like a summing-up, that’s intentional. CJ’s been thinking about slowing down. “I’m probably just gonna cut back on touring,” he says. “There’s other stuff I want to do — I’d love to get my captain’s license, buy a boat, travel the coastal waterways. Spend a couple weeks on the ocean. I’m 54. My time for doing physically demanding stuff is getting shorter. I want to do that while I still can.”
That ocean thing ties back to his Marine days. It also ties into something else — balance. The Marine-turned-Ramone thing always raised eyebrows, especially given Johnny Ramone’s famously conservative politics. CJ just shrugs. “I’ve always been a centrist,” he says. “When I joined, I knew I’d have to walk the line. Johnny was right-wing, Joey was far-left. I had to be careful not to side with one over the other too much, but I also couldn’t just cave in. We argued plenty, but there was respect. No animosity.”
He laughs when asked how people reacted to a Marine in a punk band. “Some folks asked, ‘How can you be punk and a Marine?’ But punk wasn’t originally about politics. At least not in New York. It was about doing it your own way. That’s what I did.”
And if there’s a moral here, he finds it right there. “The Ramones were proof that people with totally different worldviews could still get onstage together and make something great,” he says. “That’s what’s missing today. Everyone’s in their corners. You’re not allowed to think for yourself anymore. If you’re not marching with your party, they push you out. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”
So maybe that’s the real “holy spell” CJ Ramone’s talking about — the act of staying true to yourself without becoming a caricature of it. He’s still touring — Europe with Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, more U.S. shows after that — but he’s also thinking about what comes next. “I might just throw my guitar in the car and do living room shows for a year,” he says. “Try out some new stuff. Keep it fun.”
For a guy who once filled Dee Dee’s shoes and helped carry punk’s DNA into the 21st century, he seems more than content with where the road’s led. “Music never lost its magic for me,” he says. “It just keeps reinventing itself. And I’ll keep chasing it — maybe a little slower, but I’ll still be there.”
He pauses, then laughs. “Unless I’m on a boat somewhere.”
Listen to the interview above and then check out the tracks below.
