By: Ilya Ratner
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| JJ Grey - Photo by Ilya Ratner |
I was hoping sunny skies and a warm breeze had hitched a ride with JJ Grey & Mofro— something to melt the unexpected mid-April freeze. Instead, something better came: music, Southern-fried funk and blue soul, which turned The Varsity Theater into a sweaty, smiling juke joint. For three hours, we were on a Florida front-porch and Grey and his band were a hospitable family of storytellers.
Before soul came reggae. Georgia’s Dubconscious sauntered through a short set of Jamaican rhythm. A relaxed audience sprawled on couches and pillows. I searched for a cask of rum and a spliff, but only found the fleeting scent of shwag and pints of Premium. Dubconscious was like most reggae bands. They grooved slowly without much dynamics. There were no tempo changes, the music didn’t get loud, and there were no surprises. Good music to chill out to; good music for a Corona and a beach; good music to ease into the night. But nothing that stood out and I was beginning to think the night would only be… OK.
But the floor began filling up. Young and old, hippies and hipsters, slowly edged closer to the stage. Two snake banners went up. Guitar check, drum check, keys and mic and then Mofro stepped out and were greeted with shouts and applause. The Varsity reminds me of a lavish opium den for the well-to-do. Something you’d find on the streets of the Persian Empire, a favorite cathartic destination of Xerxes. You almost expect belly dancers gyrating erotically all around you. That night it became a roadhouse; a soulful blues joint from a Robert Rodriguez movie, but without vampires. A place you return to over and over, venturing though the muggy streets of Jacksonville to catch a local favorite. The cold night took on a warm hue. It was going to be good.
This band loves what they do. There’s nothing mechanical, nothing contrived and no gimmicks, just passion and humility. JJ Grey was a charismatic croc, all smiles and devilish charm. He seemed wiser then his years and you could picture him with an old beat up Gibson and a long white beard, crooning and preaching profound tales to an audience of reverent youngsters. This guy is a genuine storyteller. He switched from Gibson SG and harmonica to Wurlitzer organ. His playing wasn’t thunder and lighting, it was slow gin-rhythm—no extra notes, only balance and wholehearted respect for his craft.
Grey’s band followed closely behind. Adam Scone played his Hammond beautifully, filling in with that eternal B3 sound and holding the bass line like Ray Manzarek. Daryl Hance mostly sat there, so I took him for humble, but I’d bet my life savings (which isn’t much) that he’s holding back. The slide guitar is inherently explosive and I kept hoping he’d erupt into solo. Maybe next time?
Drummer Goerge Sluppick was a simple drummer. He has, perhaps, put aside his pride for the benefit of the band. He held the rhythm and didn’t interfere with the music. I love a good drum solo, but wasn’t going to get one that night.
Everyone should see Mofro at some point in their life. It’s feel good, gospel-of-everyday-life music—the kind that resonates in your gut and makes you think, “Hell yeah! That’s how it is.” The lyrics remind you of home, and of trouble, and of happiness and sadness. And you don’t have to be from Florida, Minneapolis or Alaska to understand any of those things.
Location Info:
The Varsity Theater
Artist Info: Dubconscious, JJ Grey and Mofro
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