Hey, Duffy: This is what soul sounds like: Tribal, earthy, hip-shakin’, swerve-throwin’ Sharon Jones.
But before we begin, a few words about the indefatigable Dap-Kings. It’s impossible to overstate the ability and showmanship of Daptone Records’ house band. For those who saw them back up Amy Winehouse at the Vic last year, it’s clear that Ms. Jones and the D-Ks are in a symbiotic relationship; they are at their best when they’re working with someone worthy of their time and talent. One need only watch the loving care and precision employed by the band’s tambourinist to understand the attention to detail that goes into every performance. Only then is the band able to stretch its legs and get wild.
The template here is not The MGs or Muscle Shoals, but the Famous Flames. Tight like the best of James Brown’s accompanists, the Dap-Kings throw a soul and funk revue, warming up themselves and the crowd with a couple numbers. Whiplash guitar, come-on horns and a rhythm section that all but sits in your lap and plays with your hair, the Dap-Kings know from seduction. And not for nothing, but can we bring back more bands in shirts and ties, please?
Ah but then there’s Ms. Jones: a flurry of curly braids rushing the stage in a white dress that shimmers with silver circles, hollerin’ and shoutin’, bringing the crowd under her thumb only seconds after she arrives. Jones has performed in Chicago a handful of times over the past couple of years, and has made herself comfortable whether she’s been at Double Door, Park West or now here on the Petrillo Band…er, the Playstation 3 stage. In fact, she notes later in her performance that "When I perform, this stage is my home."
And what a lived-in home it is: Whether she’s lamenting her romantic troubles ("How Do I Let A Good Man Down," during which she brought up the first of two gentlemen to act as her loving foils) or "Nobody’s Baby," where she had the crowd acting as her backup singers or when she herself backs up 60s Chicago soul legend Syl Johnson on his classic "Different Strokes," she commands the stage. When she stops to give a People’s History of the United States history lesson via some hard-running dance steps, the air crackles. With a muscular voice to match her dark, toned arms Jones puts on a show of strength throughout the north fields, daring Wilco to even think about following her performance.
Finishing her set with "Be Easy," "100 Days, 100 Nights" (given an up-tempo spin off the album of the same name) and a gospel number, Jones delivers a fiery performance, never easing off the pedal when a little more gas will push things over the cliff.









I loved when she told that idiot to “get the hell off the stage.” Where was security?