Jul. 2--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.