Show Review

Mofro’s Northern Florida and Virginia’s Tidewater share a lot more in common than just swampland and Navy bases. The populations of Jacksonville and the seven cities of Hampton Roads give both a large base from which to pull music fans, but their decidedly unmetropolitan characters sometimes make it tough to fill smaller clubs, especially when an act as below the radar as Mofro blows through town. JJ Grey, Daryl Hance, and Co.’s front porch blues is just as comfortable in front of hundreds as it would be alone with the mosquitoes, though, and their show under the red stage lights of the Jewish Mother could just as easily have been played beneath a clay red sunset in the swamps surrounding Jacksonville.

Setting the stage for a long set that focused mostly on material from their latest, Lochloosa, Grey opened with the muddy funk of “Six Ways from Sunday,” trudging through a stomping thump smoothed out by Hance’s delicate slide accents. The po’white pride of “Dirtfloorcracker,” which could very well be Mofro’s theme song, brought east-of-the-delta blues together with the funky soul of the Apollo via the song’s gritty riffing, but while the rock came harder and heavier, the band overextended the closing funk coda before fading out into enthusiastic applause and diving back into a sawdust blues number whose Hammond organ kicked the audience’s teeth in.

Grey strapped his harmonica on for the Buddy Holly blues scat of “How Junior Got His Head Put Out,” and once the quartet was finished gettin’ down on the farm, slid over to the Rhodes for the mournful, twilight ballad, “Fireflies.” After a steady-movin’ dance tune, Grey leaned back on a slow, Sly Stone groove to relate a country-store tale of violent, drunken tragedy before digressing into the kind of advice about women that could only be given from one hard luck man to another.

The sad, singalong blues of “Everybody’s” lured the audience further into the checkerboard conversation before the band shook itself out of its misery on “That Boy,” proving just how gutsy Grey’s soulful growl can be when he’s tackling such heavy topics as domestic abuse. The New Orleans funk of “Ho-Cake” lightened the mood as Adam Scone’s Hammond got butts moving on the dance floor, continuing into the next number as both Grey and Scone continued to fuel the bonfire. After the pensive homesickness of “Lochloosa” brought bodies back to earth, Scone once again ruled the joint on the sinful rock of “Hottest Spot in Hell.”

A brief encore break after a straight Stones-rock closer brought the band back out for “Jookhouse,” with Grey joining in on a fiery keyboard workout. As the encore came to a close, folks began to file out with all the fanfare of any old night at the neighborhood blues joint, but such an ending seemed fitting for this intimate night of swampy soul and muddy blues. While Mofro is capable of moving bodies as well as any four-piece funk outfit, it’s their slow, sweaty repose and next-door ease that move the heart, and J.J. Grey shows no signs of letting go of his rocking chair soul.

Photos by Robert Massie

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