Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings, “Soul of a Woman”
Gatsby dies and no one mourns. His funeral is empty and dead-silent — no hushed remembrances, no rousing eulogy, no whimpers or sobs save the weepy patter of rain overhead. The unattended ceremony adds insult to the most permanent of all injuries. It’s a second death: the first of body, the second of legacy.
Thank goodness, then, that Jimmy Gatz’ fate didn’t befall Sharon Jones, the incandescent funk-soul singer who passed away last November at age 60 after a lengthy battle with pancreatic cancer. Jones, whose death prompted memorial gatherings across the country, was immortalized in an eponymous 2016 documentary about her unlikely rise to stardom. Around 1996, the then-40-year-old quit working as an armored car guard for Wells Fargo and decided to foray into professional music. She struggled at first, entering the industry late in her career and producing no radio hits. But she had an electric voice and an inexhaustible stage spunk, which won her comparisons to fellow Georgian James Brown, the forefather of sprightly soul. In 2002, Jones began collaborating with the Dap-Kings, a Brooklyn-based revival band with whom she would release five albums. Their 2014 record, Give The People What They Want, won a Grammy for best R&B album.
Now, on the one-year anniversary of Jones’ death, the Dap-Kings have released Soul of A Woman, an eleven-track album, recorded while Jones was battling cancer, that achieves what only art itself can manage: prolonging the life of the artist. The record bursts open with words of affirmation: “Oh yeah / oh yeah,” Jones belts repeatedly over a triumph of horns, “it’s a matter of time / before justice will come.” Here is a woman staring into the face of death and winking. It’s stunning and arresting and boldly heralds the soul-searching that comes on tracks like “Come and Be a Winner,” where Jones sounds frail but fervent, as though she has one last thing she needs to tell you and won’t rest until you listen. Or “Girl (You Got to Forgive Him),” a dark and dizzying nightmare of noise about a woman short on time, desperately searching for mercy before the end arrives.
To be clear, most songs uplift more than they dispirit. Soul of a Woman is urgent and existential, but never funereal. “A brand new superstar / once an ordinary girl,” Jones reflects on “Searching for a New Day,” “and with my newfound fame / I can lend a helping hand / to all those in need / however I can.” Defeat be damned — Jones still has faith and wants to celebrate. “Your eye gets filled with so much sorrow / and it seems like there’s no tomorrow,” she wails on the closing track. “Just call on God / and he’ll provide,” rain or shine, day or night, like a favorite album left to play on loop.
Soul of a Woman does more than close an exceptional career — it inaugurates an exceptional legacy with a moving and at times harrowing testament to life. It’s like a beacon at sea engulfed by the darkest hour of night, shining the green light of hope into the abyss. Because Jones ran faster, stretched out her arms farther, it’s a light that still burns bright enough for all to see.
(November 17, Daptone Records)
