Grits and Greens

Cockfight Club
Acockalypse Now
Weapons Grade Records

In full-disclosure, Kenny Calloway is a dear friend of mine. We met when he was the editor of the “Planet Weekly,” The revolutionary free press that once filled the new stands of Tupelo, MS. We both had a passion for all things alt.country and rockabilly and our friendship has lasted through the years. Hell, we even went to see “Revenge Of The Sith” together the night that it opened. Yes, I heart Kenny Calloway. However, that has nothing to do with my feelings regarding Kenneth Calloway and Cockfight Club.
Kenneth Calloway is genius and it shows through his band, Cockfight Club. Whereas Kenny Calloway was the person that turned me on to Whiskeytown, there is nothing alt.country about the Kenneth Calloway of Cockfight Club. Cockfight Club is intricate electronic that is being made in a basement studio literally a stone’s throw away from the birthplace of Elvis Presley. If Elvis the musical past to which Tupelo overly clings to, the Cockfight Club represents the future of Tupelo, which is so bright from nuclear fallout that one has no choice but to wear shades, lest one’s eyes disintegrate.
“Acockalypse Now” is Cockfight Club’s second release and it is a beautiful, scary quagmire of ugliness that one is not likely to forget for a long time, if ever. There is no sophomore-slump here, as the album surpasses its predecessor, which was no easy feat. Calloway may have been finding his footing on “Cockfight Club,” but “Acockalypse Now” is so solid that it sounds as if Calloway has made 50 albums as opposed to two.
One of the reasons that the new album is more fluid is that despite Calloway’s production and songwriting skills, Cockfight Club is now a band and not just a project. It’s probably a good idea for Calloway to have like-minded people to swap ideas with. Members Elusive and Dustin Gant make contributions on keyboards and guitar, respectively that give the album a band-feeling. However, it is the addition of keyboardist-vocalist Graceless Lacy Babcock that really makes Cockfight Club V.2.0 something to remember.
The album opens with its namesake, “Acockalypse Now,” and everything previously mentioned about Tupelo is soon forgotten, although its North Mississippi roots will come to the surface in other ways. “Acockalypse Now” is a harrowing vision of dystopia with banshee-like wailing from Babcock that will make one’s blood turn cold. It is also the reason that you cannot wait to hit repeat and hear the song again. And again.
The intensity of “Acockalypse Now” continues on the next two tracks, “Darwin’s Monkey Blues” and “Supermassive,” as do the themes of the religious-right, Creationism, darkness, destruction and the failings of the Bush administration, all according to the Gospel of Calloway and Company.
“Mouth of Madness” drops about midway through the album and it is the centerpiece of the record. With fat, round hip-hop beats and a groove that weaves itself around the listener like a snake charmer’s snake, it should definitely make the summer playlist on many an iPod. It is pure listening pleasure.
The song also somewhat sets the tone for the second part of the album, which is far more dance and groove oriented than the first half. “Children of Dagon” is 2007 disco, bound to make anyone hit the dance floor with its syncopated beats and pumping bass line.
One way that “Acockalypse Now” triumphs over its predecessor is the trance element that is present throughout the entire disc. As previously mentioned, this is where Cockfight Club shows its North Mississippi Roots. The songs flow much in the same manner as the blues music of the Hill Country of North Mississippi. If R.L. Burnside was a fan of Kraftwerk and had a Mac, hell, he might have created this type of music.
Saving the blast for last, the album ends with “Extinction Level Event,” which samples the title track and is six minutes of avant-garde Earth destruction. This is The Beatles “Revolution 9” made on a Mac and existing in a universe where Cockflight Club brings about Armageddon with the assistance of Pres. George W. Bush. It is the end of Bush’s self-proclaimed “season of peace on Earth.”
The ugly head of Bush rears itself throughout the album as does American Family Association’s Donald Wildmon, various aliens, zombies and a continuing fascination with horror master H.P. Lovecraft. Cockfight Club is influenced by Gary Newman, The Cramps, B-grade horror movies, absinthe, Brian Eno and the political climate of the world and it is music that will stay with long after the record has ended.
On the track “Dying Alone,” Calloway wishes that “someday when you’re dying alone, you remember the words I said.” I don’t what I will thinking when that day dawns, but I know that when I’m sitting alone I can’t forget the words of Cockfight Club, especially when I’m attempting to sleep.

Country Ghetto
JJ Grey and Mofro
Alligator Records 2007



Thank God that Sly Stone and his illustrious Family did not self-destruct in vain. No, Sly’s legacy lives all over JJ Grey and Mofro’s new album, “Country Ghetto,” which seems to draw inspiration not only the Family Stone but Faces, Otis Redding and Humble Pie, as well. However, the Mofro is that rare band that pulls this off without sounding like the Black Crowes, something called “Southern Rawk” or this horrid thing known as “the Blooze,” which conjures up images of women “clap-dancing” to a bar-band version of “Mustang Sally.” No, Grey and his band are authentic –there is nothing mimicking about “Country Ghetto.”
“Country Ghetto” opens with the barn-burning “War,” which not only incorporates “Dance to the Music” drums and a low voice bass shout-out ala Larry Graham, but lyrically it deals with Sly’s most pressing issue: man versus himself—the “war” inside us all. From the fuzzed-out guitars and organ rides to the pumping organ bass line, “War” grabs you from the first beat and lets you know that the Mofro means business.
After setting the tone with “War,” the band continues to raise the proverbial bar with “Circles,” which begins with electric piano and Grey’s soulful voice, which is sometimes mindful of Bill Withers, before lazily rolling in a warm sea of strings and horns, which is not easy to do, unless you are George Martin or Brian Wilson or evidently, JJ Grey. “Circles” is the best song that Faces never recorded and if God were a fan of radio it would get played ad nauseam.
It’s refreshing to hear a record that is produced well. Grey and producer Dan Prothero keeps things simple and this simple, organic production works well. The drum and bass sounds are fat and tight, the guitar tones are authentic and the organ sounds like, well, an organ. Together, it all sounds warm and it would probably sound like a million dollars if heard on a jukebox in a Southern roadhouse. I know that it sounds great on my iPod on the speakers in my truck as I ride along the back roads of North Mississippi.
The center of “Country Ghetto” is anchored by the songs “Footsteps” and “Turpentine,” which mixes both the swamp music of Grey’s Florida home and the trance-inspired blues of the North Mississippi Hill Country. It’s the type of sound that exists in a world where Ronnie Van Zandt and R.L. Burnside are on the ten and twenty dollar bills, respectively and the local university is known as “Ole Flar’da.”
The songs are the perfect set-up for what follows next. “A Woman” is the best example of modern day soul since Otis Redding recorded “Otis Blue: Otis Redding Sings Soul.” Grey’s voice is a powerful instrument on “A Woman,” but it is not overpowering in the slightest. Grey is a soul singer, not a “blue-eyed soul singer.” Once again, he’s more Bill Withers than a screaming Joe Cocker, hoarse Rod Stewart or a big, bossy Blooze singer.
Grey, who IS the Mofro along with Daryl Hance, George Sluppick and Adam Scone, pays homage to my home state on the track, “Mississippi,” which rolls along like an old junk wagon telling the listener that “good things are going on there in Mississippi.” Old Charlie Rangel may ponder “who the hell wants to live in Mississippi,” but I do and it looks like the Mofro wouldn’t find it so bad, either.
Song for song, “Country Ghetto” is an album to listen to in its entirety, as opposed to a couple of great songs and mediocre filler material. It tackles the age-old themes of loves lost and found in a way that is at once both old and modern. Sure, there are female back-up singers, gospel-tinged choruses and big guitars and horns but Grey is nothing of a Humble Pie imitator. He’s an honest songwriter with a soulful voice and a great guitar tones. In a day and age when Indie rock is suddenly arena rock, JJ Grey and The Mofro should be one of the biggest true Indie rock bands in the world. At the very least, they inspired me to write this blog.