Homecoming Queen: Sharon Jones
The kind of music Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings make is, in one word, soul, though to really get at it you need a train-car handful: sweet-and-sour soul-searching dap-dippinâ back-pocket funk. James Brown is the chief inspiration for Jonesâs professional partner, the songwriter, producer, and Dap-Kings bass player known as Bosco Mann (his given name is Gabriel Roth). Fifteen years ago, Roth founded the Brooklyn-based independent label Daptone Records with saxophonist Neal Sugarman to create an outlet for vintage funk and soul, old school rhythm & bluesâwith an emphasis on the former in both of those classic binaries. Roth and Jones met in the nineties through her ex-fiancĂ©, a musician, and they quickly recognized a kindred aesthetic. Though she often says she had been told by industry suits that she was âtoo fat, too black, too short, and too oldâ to be a successful singer, Jones had maintained her chops in wedding bands and church choirs. To Roth, it was only her voice that mattered. From day one, she has been Daptoneâs doyenne.
Whatever you call her music, donât say ârevival,â a term the Dap-Kings get leveled with too often, and one she hates. Many people discovered Sharon Jones in 2006, after the Dap-Kings were tapped to play behind Amy Winehouse on her second album, Back to Black, which would win a host of awards and continues to sell millions. Jones resented that a little, understandably, since her own critically acclaimed music had always fallen short of a broad reception. In 2015, Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings finally received their first Grammy nomination, in the Best R&B Album category, for their fifth LP, Give the People What They Want. They lost to Toni Braxton & Babyface, who have won eighteen Grammys between them.
The simple cover of 2002âs Dap Dippinâ with ⊠Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, their debut album (and 001 in the Daptone catalog), is made up mostly of black space. The title runs across the top in a primary color treatment. Below it, way off toward the right-hand margin, stands Jones in a glittery red dress, and next to her, running off the sleeve, is half a saxophone player, the identifying details of his face cut off by the coverâs edge, an effect that encourages the listener to imagine the rest of the Dap-Kings, whoever they are, in line behind her out of frame. Jones, mic in hand, hip turned out, left arm confidently cocked, is singing back toward the center, into darkness.
I imagine her belting the albumâs first song, âGot a Thing on My Mind,â a defiant blaster that can serve as a thesis statement for her career. âI got a thing on my mind / Iâm sure Iâm gonna find it,â Jones sings, packing the lines with all the pent-up ambition of a forty-six-year-old woman whoâd never been given the shot she knew she deserved. âDonât let nobody tell me my banginâ wonât come true / âCause I ainât lyinâ down âtil I get my dues.â
She hasnât gotten them yet, and so she continues. [Read More]
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