Orange Blossoms is the latest from J.J. Grey, a Jacksonville singer songwriter and proponent of the self-dubbed style called “Front Porch Soul.” The 2007 release recorded in Florida with his band Mofro is his fourth major release and his second on Alligator Records.

With a hummingbird on the cover, I wasn’t sure if this was going to be your typical blues recording. When I opened up the liner notes and saw the sitar credit, I knew for sure that it wasn’t. What I found was an amalgamation of R&B and southern styles, which effortlessly jumps from one time and place to another. Grey lists Tony Joe White, Otis Redding, Dr John and Sly and the Family Stone among his influences. The great thing about the album is that each song takes you in a different direction musically.

The title track and first song “Orange Blossoms” is about a forbidden young love, and combines pop horns over a heavy riff.

Grey reaches deep into his esophagus to pull out a voice as gravelly as Alex Chilton circa the Box Tops. On “The Devil You Know,” where he gripes about a ménage a trois, you can hear the guitar’s twanging country style.

Next comes the naughty “Everything Bad is Good.” A strong Hammond organ and gospel vocals give a spiritual feel to this song about cheating. It’s the only cover on the recording. Next is the standout “She Don’t Know.” This song is reminiscent of so many 70s Philly soul classics and when I hear what seems to be a vintage Fender Rhodes and strings section I can swear I’ve heard this song from my childhood.

While listening to “The Higher You Climb,” a ghetto-inspired number and “WYLF(what you’re looking for,)” I hear the wah-wah pedal coming in and out, and I sit back and relax and pretend I’m hearing the soundtrack to a long-lost blaxploitation movie. On the swampy number “She’s on Fire,” I’m reminded of Jerry Reed’s “When You’re Hot You’re Hot.” Add to that a little James Brown-style horn section and what you have is the funkiest number on the record. “Move it on” is another standout and the most soulful song on the whole disc. The pathos reminds me of War’s “Slipping into Darkness.”

I’m not sure if “Ybor City” is a real place or not. But like Wilber Harrison’s “Kansas City,” it’s overflowing with booze and women who will “treat you like a king.”

“I Believe” is the happy ending song no self-respecting Hollywood movie should be without.

And though I’ve come to the end and I’m still scratching my head to figure out which song had that sitar, it doesn’t matter: I’m glad where I got to go.