JJ Grey

From the Allman Brothers and Lynyrd Skynyrd to Derek Trucks and Limp Bizkit, it might seem like there's something in the water in Jacksonville, Fla., for so many big-name artists to call it home.

After almost a decade on the scene and four albums to his name, swamp blues artist JJ Grey isn't the newest artist to come from the city, but it definitely left its mark on him, he said.

"This happened to be where I hit the ground running and where I live," he said. "I know where north, south, east and west are here.

"When a momma nurses a baby, they got a connection for life. This place nursed me, so I've got a connection with it for life."

Grey's music references all aspects of life in the Sunshine State's, from the smell of orange blossoms to whiskey-warm nights in Tampa's Ybor City. His vocals range similarly, from a smoky, Buddy Guy-like howl to a sweet sonorous shimmer reminiscent of Grey's hero, Otis Redding.

Tonight, Grey and Mofro, his band of fellow Jacksonvillians, will bring the sounds of the coast to Miller Plaza as tonight's headliner at Nightfall.

As big a role as Florida has played in his music, Grey said his songwriting is more a product of just paying attention than of his surroundings.

And if his view wasn't filled with sand dunes and Spanish moss, Grey said he would be inspired since his songs are born from letting life happen and filter through the results.

"If I try, it ain't going to come," he said. "That doesn't mean I can't go write a song ... but it won't mean a whole lot to me if I did.

"I can go back and listen to songs and records I've done through the years, and the best songs I didn't write; they just happened. The best songs I wrote I don't have near the connection as I have with the ones that wrote themselves."

Chattanooga Times Free Press music reporter Casey Phillips spoke with JJ Grey, frontman of the swamp rock/soul/blues outfit, MOFRO, about the magic of Jacksonville, writing about the real Florida and why he loves Otis Redding.

CP: So you're from Jacksonville, Fla., huh? You and the Allman Brothers and Lynyrd Skynyrd and Derek Trucks and so many other great musicians. You must have something in the water down there.

JG: (Laughs.) I reckon so. But when you think about it, you can almost apply that to so many other towns. If you dig deep enough, you'll find a similar thing in North Mississippi, which is more of an area with Memphis at the center, and obviously New Orleans or Chicago, even Baltimore and Philly and Atlanta. It's pretty wild, but Jacksonville definitely has its share.

CP: Is Jacksonville itself a source of inspiration for you? That certainly seems the case, judging by the lyrics of the title track of “Orange Blossoms.”

JG: Well, you know, I guess. That said, I would hope that wherever I grew up would be inspirational. For me, there's nothing more inspiring than life itself and where you live and the thing that's unfolding right before your eyes. This happened to be where I hit the ground running and where I live. I know where north, south, east and west are here. It's kind of like anything - when a momma nurses a baby, they got a connection for life, this place nursed me, so I've got a connection with it for life.

CP: Do you typically draw inspiration for your songs from your own experiences? Do you avoid fictionalization?

JG: No, not really. I don't try to do anything. I try to let it be what it is. Sometimes, a philosophical truth can be expressed better in fiction than in fact. For the most part, I don't delve a lot into fiction because I find life is stranger and more surreal. You know the human mind can only think so much before it thinks itself into a corner or right into the crazy house. There's far more going on in the world, far more interesting things going on in the real world, than in a fake one. There's nothing wrong with fiction. I enjoy fiction as well.

CP: So if you have to fictionalize, you might not be paying close enough attention?

JG: I just don't get involved with the process. I just wait until the words or the music or the story just comes. I don't even wait. Waiting implies I'm trying to do something. I'm not even waiting. I'm oblivious and you do what I do. Right now, I just shut this big mower I'm on off to talk to you, and while I'm on the mower, anything in the world can pop in … or not. Granted, I've learned one thing, if I try, it ain't going to come. That doesn't mean I can't go write a song or put together some chords, but it won't mean a whole lot to me if I did. It might be cool, it might be funny and it might be hip at the moment, but all that never has any staying power for me. I can go back and listen to songs and records I've done through the years, and the best songs I didn't write them, they just happened. The best songs I wrote, I don't have near the connection I have with the ones that wrote themselves.

CP: Reviews of your album before “Orange Blossoms” said that your writing showed a different side of Florida popularized in tourism brochures. Do you feel like your music provides a more accurate picture of the state that's in keeping with the experience for those who live there?

JG: Well, I've certainly wrote songs that do that. I just took a slice of what I saw out. Every city goes through that. With Chattanooga, the first thing anyone thinks of away from there is Rock City or Ruby Falls or whatever. It's like, “Well there's a lot more to Chattanooga and Tennessee, a lot more to life, than labels.” There's a lot more to life than running around sticking a sticker on stuff. Once you stick a label on something, you can dismiss it and move on.

One day, human beings believe that when we put enough labels on everything, we can rest easy and know that we have all the answers. That's the silliest notion I've ever heard, and obviously, I've been just as much a part of it.

I made a conscious decision a while back, before “Blackwater” came out, to quit trying to write songs that I thought were catchy and that people would want to hear and start writing songs that were connected to something.

For a while, I tried to do that, and that was almost as bad as trying to write songs as vanilla. Some people might have liked them, if I ever gave them a chance, but I bailed out on them. I feel like, if I don't feel it, I'm not going to do it.

Life's short enough as it is. I just found that one day I woke up, and that's what these songs were about. I've learned that the whole time I'm writing this stuff, I'm writing it to me, I'm preaching to myself because I was ready to look the other way and be a dog chasing my own tail. I'm sure plenty of people can relate to that. I'm not above getting back in that position again if I'm not careful. I'm just trying to stay out of my way, stay out of life's way and let it happen.

When I did that, I wound up singing about places like here.

CP: Does that approach of letting yourself be a filter for life and catching things in the moment make it easier or harder to write songs than sitting down with the intent to write something?

JG: It's obviously the easiest way of all for me, but it can be difficult because your mind can get in the way. I reckon everybody is creative. People make a big deal about, “So and so is a great singer/songwriter or so and so is a famous person who has done these great things.” In my mind, everybody can do it. It's like breathing. If you forgot how to breath and you had to think about it, it would be a struggle. I've forgotten how to breathe like anybody else.

You can't tell somebody how to breath. You can tell somebody how to alter their breathing, but you just have to say, “Well, you just draw in a breath,” and they might ask how to do that, but you can't really tell them because that part of you that knows how to breath is the same part of you that knows how to write and say things. You have to just be and do it and not think about it.

I'll peddle along with some tunes, and I'm never in a rush. Songs like “The Sun is Shining Down,” that whole song, start to finish, took me not even five minutes to do. It's just like a conversation. This music and these lyrics are like a conversation. It's like talking to you right now. I don't have to sit and think about everything I'm going to say. Some people might, but if I did, it would be terrible. You wouldn't care about talking to me. You'd think “Man, he sucks.”

CP: You're a big fan of Otis Redding, right? What is it about his music or his approach to music that you admired or try to emulate in your life?

JG: Oh, yeah, sure. When I first started, I couldn't put my finger on what it was (I wanted to emulate). I still can't. It's intangible, but I tried desperately to put my finger on it. I put myself to work trying to emulate. I'm not talking about the chord structures, but the feeling from the sound of his voice. It was a damn good starting place for me. When you're coming along in the world, these are the things nobody can't teach you. They can only teach you is how to get out of your own way to do it.

Otis was a great teacher in that way because I feel comfortably sure that Otis Redding would be just as comfortable singing on a street corner just out loud with nothing behind him, just singing for the joy of singing.

That's what I feel when I hear him sing. That's what I feel when different people play different instruments. I actually feel that way when Derek Trucks plays guitar. Obviously, guys like that get so good that even on days when they feel bad they make you feel good because they can convey something through what they're doing.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, that's what I wanted to carry away.

To be a good entertainer, you better be able to put people at ease, and the only way you can do that is to be yourself. In some ways, that means you don't know what you're going to do or say next. You don't know exactly where something is going to lead. You just sort of put one foot in front of the other and see where you land.

CP: Discussions of your first album suggested that your sound was a combination of swamp rock and country blues. Your latest album, “Orange Blossoms” sounds more like it's moved even more into being a purely soulful record. Was that intentional?

JG: Nah, it was the nature of the tunes. When I put together all the songs at home and demoed them, they sounded like they do on the record, except not as good because I didn't pull out some of the big guns to play on it. The arrangements and all that stuff I work out at home, and they worked out that way.

I would say that, to me, honestly, “Orange Blossoms” is how I wanted “Blackwater” to sound. “Blackwater” and “Orange Blossoms,” in that way, are like sister albums. I felt like what I didn't get done on “Blackwater” I was able to get done on “Orange Blossoms.” Both records have lighthearted moments that are up and funky and grooving and both have darker, sadder moments. Both records are supposed to sound like if you were to take Stevie Wonder, Tony Joe White and Lynyrd Skynyrd and mix them up but threw in half Stevie Wonder and a quarter each of the other two, that would be “Orange Blossoms.” “Country Ghetto” was a larger portion of Lynyrd Skynyrd and Tony Joe White and much smaller portion of Stevie Wonder. That's sort of how I look at it. That's how I wanted “Blackwater” to sound. With “Orange Blossoms,” I didn't try to make it sound like anything, I just let it be like it is. “Blackwater” took a lot more effort. Funnily enough, people look at it as my rawest album, and it's the most-produced.

CP: Considering some of the comments you've made about how fans might really like some music you wrote that was catchy but didn't have much soul or that you weren't happy about how it turned out. It sounds like you don't have an inherently positive relationship with everything you produce.

JG: It can happen. I find that the more thought I put into a tune, the more chance of it feeling dated. I'm not ashamed of “Blackwater” or anything I've done, but every band or artist or writer has some skeletons in the closet like, “Oh my god, I was young and stupid then.” We all did when we were young coming up in music. I don't mean that you're ashamed of it, but it's not relevant.

I feel reasonably sure that if I was Bono of U2 or something and looked back on all the years with “Unforgettable Fire” or “War” or “Boy” or the big one, “Joshua Tree,” those records, especially “Joshua Tree,” are timeless and you never feel ashamed of them. So much other music from the 80s is fun, but you like it because you're young and dumb. U2's albums defy all that. In my opinion, .

CP: Are you working on your next album yet?

JG: Oh yeah. I'm always piddling along. I have no idea when I'll put out a record, but I hope to have one out next year. Somebody said, “You can't hurry love. You just have to wait.” It's the same way with music. You have to let it come out when it comes out. The one thing I would put a little thought into in the early stages for a brief moment is to visualize how the record will sound. Given the direction I want to take with the next record, I think it's probably going to be a little more raw. To me, “Orange Blossoms” was raw. It may not be raw sounding or as primitive sounding as some of the others, but to me, there's nothing as raw as a lot of the Muscle Shoals sound or the Stax Records stuff. They had string and horns all over their stuff, but it was nasty. I'll probably try and dip into that a big because I love how it sounds. It makes it sound wonderful.

IF YOU GO

* What: NIghtfall concert featuring JJ Grey and Mofro.

* When: Tonight. Blues Hammer opens at 7; JJ Grey headlines at 8.

* Where: Miller Plaza, corner of M.L. King Boulevard, Market and Cherry streets.

* Admission: Free.

* Phone: 265-0771.

* Venue Web site: www.downtownchattanooga.org.

* Related links at fyi.timesfreepress.com.

DISCOGRAPHY

2001: "Blackwater"

2004: "Lochloosa"

2007: "Country Ghetto"

2008: "Orange Blossoms"

LINEUP

JJ Grey -- vocals/keys/guitar/harmonica

Daryl Hance -- electric/slide guitar

Adam Scone -- organ

Anthony Cole -- drums

WHAT'S NEXT

JJ Grey is working on a follow-up to his 2008 release, "Orange Blossoms," which he hopes to have out next year. The next album should even more raw than "Blossoms" and will tap into the meaty, dirty Muscle Shoals/Stax Records sound, he said.