For many people, the word "Florida" conjures up images of sunshine, white-hot sands, and white-hot nightlife. That's not the Florida JJ Grey inhabits. Sounding forth from his ancestral home 40 miles outside of Jacksonville, Grey's Florida is inhabited by water moccasins, gators, and characters whose murky, besotted Southern Gothic pasts match the dreary, desolate landscape. On Country Ghetto, his third album and debut for Alligator Records (of course), Grey and his bandmates revisit the hallowed but largely forsaken musical environs of swamp rock. Taking their cues from early Creedence Clearwater Revival and Tony Joe White, Mofro play a slinky, sinuous brand of Louisiana soul-funk-blues, while Grey himself alternates between the good ol' boy debauchery of Ronnie Van Zant and Lynyrd Skynyrd and the classic soul entreaties of Otis Redding and Clarence Carter.
For many people, the word "Florida" conjures up images of sunshine, white-hot sands, and white-hot nightlife. That's not the Florida JJ Grey inhabits. Sounding forth from his ancestral home 40 miles outside of Jacksonville, Grey's Florida is inhabited by water moccasins, gators, and characters whose murky, besotted Southern Gothic pasts match the dreary, desolate landscape. On Country Ghetto, his third album and debut for Alligator Records (of course), Grey and his bandmates revisit the hallowed but largely forsaken musical environs of swamp rock. Taking their cues from early Creedence Clearwater Revival and Tony Joe White, Mofro play a slinky, sinuous brand of Louisiana soul-funk-blues, while Grey himself alternates between the good ol' boy debauchery of Ronnie Van Zant and Lynyrd Skynyrd and the classic soul entreaties of Otis Redding and Clarence Carter.
Maybe number five is the charm? Not that JJ Grey and his ever evolving backing band Mofro care. But it's possible that Georgia Warhorse may be the record that pulls them from the glorified cult status they've enjoyed for a decade into the lights on the mainstream's fringes - but don't count on it. Grey's music is far too gritty; too poetically, sonically, and atmospherically rooted in vintage Southern soul, rock and blues traditions to translate readily into radio fodder. Georgia Warhorse (named for a tenacious and resilient species of grasshopper) contains 11 new originals, recorded at Jim DeVito's Retrophonics Studio in St. Augustine - as were all four previous albums. The music is steeped in funky, greasy, slippery Southern R&B, blues and rock…
It's difficult to find a review of JJ Grey's music that doesn't use the word "swamp" to describe his blend of deep Southern soul and murky funk. So that's taken care of in the first sentence here, which leaves plenty of room to focus on his fourth album's low-key yet surging backwoods R&B. The disc's title and title track refer to Grey's home state of Florida's official flower, but there is little that is floral or sunshiny about his music. Rather, the Jacksonville-based Grey prefers to hover in the gloaming, layering horns and backing vocals over grinding, midtempo blue-eyed soul. This is the most elaborately produced of his albums, but like the chitlin' circuit blues in his blood, there is nothing slick about it…
The Seminoles, Timuquans, Creeks and other native Floridians harvested and stewed the heart of the Sabal palm tree to create a rustic delicacy called swamp cabbage. Rarely served today save for in pine-paneled hunting lodges and fish camps, swamp cabbage still lingers as a vestige of the “real” Florida. As an inspirational archetype the name Swamp Cabbage was chosen to remind listeners where the music comes from and that it is a musical concoction of southern rock, blues, soul, Dixieland jazz and Appalachian. Swamp Cabbage extracts as much music as possible from the quintessential rock and roll format – a guitar, bass and drum trio. The songs are built around gnarly unique southern- rock sounding riffs yet the rhythms derive from blues, soul and funk.
It’s been 45 years since Hound Dog Taylor & The Houserockers entered a Chicago recording studio to cut the album that would change the face of American music forever. That self-titled release came out in August 1971 and launched an American institution, Alligator Records. Label boss Bruce Iglauer ran the operation from an efficiency apartment in the Windy City. In the subsequent decades, his imprint would issue roughly 300 titles, including releases from Koko Taylor, Albert Collins, Luther Allison, and Lil’ Ed and The Blues Imperials, among many, many others. When quality blues records were hard to come by and majors turned their attention to the latest fashions, Iglauer stuck it out, giving a loyal fan base music they didn’t know they were missing. To see the Alligator logo on an album’s spine meant you were getting something handpicked from a friend who loved that music as much as you did. Maybe even more.