When Sharon Jones took the stage, you felt it before you heard it. The horn section would start to cook, the crowd would surge forward, and then—like a jolt of electricity—she’d arrive. Barely five feet tall, radiating power and joy, Sharon Jones didn’t just sing soul music; she embodied it. Every stomp, every shout, every bead of sweat told the story of a woman who refused to let the world define her.
From Augusta to Brooklyn
Sharon Lafaye Jones was born on May 4, 1956, in Augusta, Georgia—the same hometown as James Brown—and raised in the rougher corners of Brooklyn, New York. Her family struggled, and the young Sharon learned early how to fight for space in a world that rarely gave her any. Church was her first stage; gospel was her foundation.
In her twenties and thirties, Jones chased her dream wherever she could find a mic—weddings, talent shows, and bar bands—but the industry doors stayed closed. She was told she was too short, too dark, too old, not marketable. Instead of giving up, she worked as a corrections officer at Rikers Island and a security guard for Wells Fargo, singing on the side whenever she could. “I wasn’t what they were looking for,” she once said, “so I just kept being me.”
The Daptone Years: A Star Reborn
Everything changed in the mid-1990s when she crossed paths with Gabriel Roth and Neal Sugarman, founders of what would become Daptone Records, the Brooklyn label devoted to raw, analog, old-school soul. They recognized in Jones what the industry had missed: a powerhouse performer with the grit of Aretha and the energy of Tina Turner.
Together with Gabriel Roth aka Bosco Mann and his powerhouse band, she recorded her first single, “Damn It’s Hot,” in 1996 on Desco Records, and soon after began cutting tracks that would form the backbone of Daptone’s vintage-soul revival.
Her 2002 debut album, Dap Dippin’ with Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, didn’t just announce a new artist—it announced a movement.
The Dap-Kings’ horn-driven grooves and Jones’s fierce vocals were a perfect match. They brought back the heat, the sweat, and the truth of 1960s soul without nostalgia. Every note sounded urgent, alive, now. Over the next decade, albums like Naturally (2005), 100 Days, 100 Nights (2007), and I Learned the Hard Way (2010) turned Sharon Jones into the beating heart of a soul renaissance.
Queen of the Stage
On stage, Sharon Jones was unstoppable. She danced like fire, and could turn a concert hall into a revival tent in minutes. She didn’t need pyrotechnics or studio polish—she had spirit. Watching her live was to witness unfiltered joy with hard-won pride and I was fortunate enough to experience this on multiple occasions.
She called herself a “fighter,” and that energy was contagious. Fans didn’t just come for the music—they came to feel something real.
The Battle and the Triumph
In 2013, just as her career was soaring, Jones was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She postponed the release of her album Give the People What They Want to undergo surgery and chemotherapy. True to form, she fought back the only way she knew how—through music. Bald from treatment but fierce as ever, she returned to the stage, defiant and dazzling, performing in sparkly dresses and singing her truth.
Her comeback was captured in the moving 2015 documentary Miss Sharon Jones!, which chronicled both her vulnerability and her courage. “I’m gonna sing,” she said, “until I can’t sing no more.” And she did.
A Legacy Written in Fire
Sharon Jones passed away on November 18, 2016, at the age of 60. Her death marked the loss of one of the most authentic voices of her generation—but her influence only grew. She helped bring soul back into the cultural conversation, not as retro chic, but as something raw, relevant, and alive.
She was proof that it’s never too late to rise. The music industry that once rejected her eventually crowned her queen—not out of charity, but out of awe. Because Sharon Jones wasn’t just a singer. She was a force of nature: defiant, divine, and utterly unforgettable.
And when the horns hit and the lights went up, she showed us something beautiful—that real soul isn’t about perfection. It’s about truth.