Review: J J Grey & Mofro, Tunnels

Ordinarily when arriving at the Tunnels fans will observe the band transport parked outside and will perhaps see a battered hired transit van or occasionally a road weary people mover – the stream of people arriving for JJ Grey and Mofro’s show were overawed by a luxury tour bus that appeared to be large enough to accommodate the Polyphonic Spree let alone a seven piece band. And it had a trailer too. Suitably awed we entered the Tunnels to experience a considerable delay before the band hit the stage. The absence of the support band was commented on and rumours down the front suggested the band concerned were trapped in Venezuela – a story so unlikely that it must have been true. Further post gig rumour mongering suggested a further cause for delay had been steak related rider issues, with the band having to cook their pre-gig rations on the George Foreman grill in the tour bus (good job they weren’t in a Transit then), again, a story so unlikely that it must have been true.

The band (Dennis Marion: trumpet, Todd Smallie: bass, Craig Barnette: drums, Eric Brigand: keys, Marcus Parsley: trumpet and Zach Gilbert: guitar) finally ambled on stage around nine thirty (looking suitably sated after their feast) with JJ Grey himself resplendent in a silky orange shirt and white polyester flares looking, as one young fella in the audience put it, more like a member of the Scissor Sisters than the gravelled throated front man of a rock band. Over the course of two hours the band delivered a master class in the history of American dance music, covering greasy southern soul & gritty RnB (with more than a nod to southern rock); proto funk (a la Little Feat) and at times were only a glitter ball and string section away from the lush disco sounds of seventies Philadelphia.

Throughout the show the band were clearly loving every minute of their performance as well as the rowdy audience reaction to each tune (the set covered virtually the whole back catalogue). Their pleasure was palpable and it’s a truism that the more a band are enjoying themselves, the more that vibe feeds the crowd’s pleasure. Grey was a demanding band leader with the tunes stopped and started with consummate tightness, but every drop and stop resulted in grins and laughter across the stage at every audacious twist and turn in each song. It’s not often you get a guitar player playing air bass and air trumpet whilst his band mates’ solo, but Gilbert just couldn’t stop himself, his pleasure only matched by Smallie, who spent the entire gig grinning like a Cheshire cat – and why not, the band were totally in the groove.

Grey was a captivating presence on stage throughout: orchestrating mass singalongs (notably in Brighter Days, delivered with set climaxing passion only four songs in); sharing tales from the road including a warning on the perils of trying to follow Sir Bruce Forsyth at Glastonbury; busting enough moves to suggest that not only would he be a sartorial fit with the Scissor Sisters but could out-dance them too and generally entrancing the crowd with a mixture of southern charm and a somewhat louche charisma. Incidentally his guitar playing was mighty fine too, although mostly sticking to choppy rhythm guitar he peeled off an immaculate solo in answer to the stunning solo from Gilbert during Every Minute. The great thing about both players was that whilst they had all the soul / RnB tropes down pat (wocka-wocka Stax chops and sleazy wah-wah funk solos) they enriched the set with proper classic rock guitar solos. Not showboating million notes a second shredding – just classically played clean old school lead work that would have left Tommy Vance moist and weak kneed.

The set emphasised Grey’s song writing ability: Lochloosa a stone cold epic with some sublime guitar; Dirtfloor Cracka’ a filthy pelvis pusher matched by the slippery funk of Everything Good is Bad: a beautifully rabble rousing crowd singalong, its chorus (“Seems like everything good is bad and everything bad is good”) clearly representing the crowd’s view of life given the gusto of their performance. How Junior Got His Head Put Out a harp driven epic tale of small town mayhem with pointedly colloquial lyrics perfectly illustrating Grey’s way with words – the songs are certainly aimed at the pelvis and tailored made for dancing but there’s a sharp mind at work with this tales of small town lives, friendship, love and loss. JJ Grey is a superb song writer and with Mofro he has a superlative band…there’s no doubt he’ll be back in town because that’s what artists like Grey do – they record, they tour; they record, they tour. Pick one of the songs above, find it on YouTube, I guarantee you will be buying back catalogue and watching our listings for their next appearance.

All pix by John Morgan