When JJ Grey writes a song, he doesn't do it for anyone seeking a caricature of the down-to-earth south he sings about.

Grey writes to keep himself grounded, he says. To remind himself of his grandfather, born in 1905, who told him stories on the front porch about raising half-wild cattle on fenceless land. To remember musicians Grey grew up idolizing: Jerry Reed. Elvis Costello. Van Morrison. Buddy Guy.

"I preach to myself," says Grey, 40, who lives in a rural town near Jacksonville, Fla. "Every song with me, I'm not preaching to the rest of the world and changing its wicked ways. I'm preaching to me. It's a diary for me to remember these things."

Grey's passion for his roots - and for bluesy, joyful music - is the driving force on the latest CD from JJ Grey & Mofro. The title track, "Orange Blossoms," is all easygoing guitar and horn grooves, seasoned with hints of Creedence Clearwater Revival's swampy strut. Singing with a gritty, soulful style, Grey tells the story of sneaking to the back of an orange grove to exchange kisses with his first love - and how that sweet seasonal scent still sweeps him back to simpler times.

In an America homogenized by television and the Internet, "The thing that's important for my kids, to me, is to try to maintain some sort of connection to the real world," Grey explains by phone. "Not this bulls- , mall-infested, diluted horses- that we all get caught up in."

Grey's attitude about what's important in life keeps him positive in the increasingly saturated music industry. He's been making music since he was 17, singing in bar bands until he picked up a guitar in 2001. His own group, Mofro, still hasn't exploded in popularity. But steadily, bolstered by rave reviews of his 2007 CD, "Country Ghetto," and his live show, Grey has developed a faithful following. He's been praised in The New York Times and toured the southeast with the Allman Brothers Band in 2007.

Grey, who is signed to Alligator Records, seems poised to break through. But he isn't letting on. He's just happy to play Alive After Five, he says. It allows him to play music for an audience that normally wouldn't discover him - and he'll seize the opportunity.

"For me," he says, "I like for people to dance. A lot."

What it all boils down to, Grey seems to suggest, is relishing your roots, whatever they may be, and rejecting false gods of the modern age.

"If you were born 30, 40 years ago, you were born on the last fringes, especially in the United States, of regional culture," Grey says. "My point is, in those old connections, there was an actual connection to that dirt, that land, that place.

"Music comes from people telling you stories about life and how to live and how to survive, so to speak. Nowadays with pop culture, there's no connection to anything. The only connection is with, 'Do you think people will like this?' ... I believe the way we live now is illusionary. I believe the way we live won't last. It won't last."

Michael Deeds: 377-6407