Swampy, dirty, nasty rocking Southern soul. That’s about it. Thanks for reading.

Ah, well it seems I should probably say a bit more than that, considering this is an album review, not one of JD Considine’s super concise one-liners from days gone by.

With last year’s Country Ghetto, Grey and Mofro whittled their signature sound — consisting of equal parts CCR, the better parts of (ahem) Skynyrd, mosquitoes and Florida humidity — into a cleaner, more concise form than ever. Though the production was a tad bigger than before, none of their signature intimacy was lost. The loping march of “On Palestine,” the chug of “War” and the muddy funk of “Mississippi” were bright lights on an album suffering no shortage of shining moments. Though the opportunity was available to me to see the band live twice last year while they were touring with the Allman Brothers, to my chagrin I managed both times to arrive at the venue just as they were finishing their last tune. But damn, those three to five minutes that I did get to hear were sounding pretty fantastic.

Orange Blossoms isn’t exactly a huge step beyond Country Ghetto, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, considering the quality of the product. Few bands can deliver this kind of music, a mélange of southern blues, gospel, funk and soul, without sounding overly derivative of their influences or just plain cheesy in a glorified “bar band” kind of way, which works in spades for NRBQ, but those guys are an exception. From the downbeat of the opener and title track, the groove is on. Grey’s vocals are pushing the meters into the red, the drummer’s hanging out somewhere way behind the beat, the guitars only play what’s needed, and the horns bleat and snap with Motown perfection. Grey’s evocative, economical lyrical approach is truly something to appreciate, able to conjure up the images needed with a minimum of fluff.

Addiction and the lengths it can make people go to, even those you’re closest to, is the theme of “The Devil You Know.” The lure of temptation, and its balance against one’s better judgment fuels the cover of “Everything Good Is Bad,” which bubbles and builds with steamy frustration. What’s missing over the course of Orange Blossoms is some of the earlier frustrations Mofro demonstrated regarding the development and stripping of their native Florida’s natural wonders. Such concerns are traded here for less heady (though more relative to the basic human conditions of love, lust, loneliness and remembrance) subject matter. Either way, the band’s delivery is as dirty and authentic as ever. Check out cuts like “On Fire” and “Higher You Climb,” which depict debauchery and materialism in no uncertain terms. The latter simmers over its four-minute running time to a full on boil with the repeating mantra “the higher you climb/the further you fall” bolstered by another picture perfect horn arrangement and Grey’s wah-wah inflected clavinet quacking away in the corner.

But the song-by-song thing doesn’t really do justice to how Orange Blossoms really should be appreciated. JJ Grey and Mofro have gotten so consistent and skilled at what they do that all that’s needed is a free hour or so, a sip of moonshine if you’re so inclined, and a rattling box fan in the window to get the most out of this album. Often I find myself wanting to hear how a band changes from album to album, but in the case of these guys, I’m perfectly happy with where they are right now, and it sounds like they are as well.

(Chris Cooper can be reached at thumbpick43@yahoo.com)