Sharon Jones And The Dap-Kings at Barrymore Theatre
Eric Baillies
Sharon Jones struts for Madison, with some of her Kings in the background.
Since this is my first time here, I think I need to strut my stuff,” Sharon Jones announced early in her Wednesday night set with eight-member band The Dap-Kings at the Barrymore. The audience was ravenous for the 52-year-old, 4-foot-11-inch soul mistress’ strutting, which went hand-in-hand with her vocals. Before Jones arrived in a shiny orange dress and heels, Dap-Kings guitarist and master of ceremonies Binky Griptite (looking pretty damn classy himself in a smart suit and pristine bald dome) introduced the set as the “Daptone Super-Soul Revue.” Indeed, there was plenty of showmanship to go with the Kings’ funky chops and Jones’ big, defiant, and joyful voice.
Soon, Jones pulled up a dancer from the crowd in front of the stage, a lanky dude in a Grateful Dead t-shirt and flannel—he couldn’t have been more than 15. While Jones sang “How Do I Let A Good Man Down?” this guy swayed and grooved right along with her, at one point even putting his hands on her waist as she got right up close. Jones brought up several other grooving audience members to join her during the show, including Milwaukee singer-songwriter Paul Cebar, who happened to be on hand during “100 Days, 100 Nights.” Not all of Jones’ impromptu dance partners fared so well, and one guy even got the crowd laughing as he awkwardly bounced around her, making a cartoonish “bad guy” face and generally looking un-funky. It was all in good fun, and Jones wasn’t afraid of these guys. They were all at least a head taller, but she made them look like pansies, especially when she shimmied up to a Hawaiian-shirted partner during another song, put her hand on the back of his neck, and grinned straight into his eyes, all while her hips churned away at a respectable distance.
Jones wasn’t the only vision onstage last night. Openers Menahan Street Band played a set of the fine instrumentals from their new album Make The Road By Walking, a mix of feisty horns and supremely chill rhythms, before inviting singer Charles Bradley to join them. Bradley shuffled out in some kind of see-through, black-and-gold-threaded vest and a head of billowing, curly hair. (A few audience members Decider overheard pegged him as a "James Brown impersonator"—and so does 77 Square reviewer Rob Thomas; a guy in line at the men’s room between bands suggested the Menahan guys should’ve suited up in “powder-blue tuxedos” to keep up with Bradley’s fashion attack.)
At once stately and wildly tacky, Bradley pleaded and begged his way through two of his recent singles with MSB, “The World (Is Going Up In Flames)” and “Heartaches & Pain.” He stretched a hand out to the crowd, scrunched his face up so hard some tears could have squeezed out. His voice also wrenched a lot of emotion into the songs, from some genuinely good soul-belting to his spoken sermons on the bridge of each tune: “”Look at my heart, and know that I’m giving you all the love I got,” “You know, people, we gotta make it right—RIGHT?” Bradley came back out during Jones set for a duet on Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come.” He went even further this time, throwing himself to his knees like a man staging a religious experience. Even so, there’s no upstaging Jones. She went into some of her own spoken raps, including one about her African and Native American ancestors, even another about how music-biz people used to brush her off as “too dark-skinned too damn short, too fat.”
The Dap-Kings surrounded her in a semicircle, soloing and breaking it down on Jones’ command, beefing the tunes up with conga drums, alto and baritone sax. Guitarists Griptite and Tommy “TNT” Brenneck (who’s also in Menahan Street Band) wrapped it all together with parts that warmly blurred funky chords into staccato Afrobeat-styled lines. In keeping with the band’s old-school spirit, the only effects pedal onstage was Brenneck’s wah-wah pedal, and he used even that with tenderness, stirring up graceful, fluttering effects rather then the usual obnoxious “bow-chicka-bow-wow!” All around, this was one of the best shows to hit town all year: The bands nailed it musically, and Jones drew an unusually mixed Madison crowd—from teenagers to old crusties to record-store clerks to local rockers, and many in between—and made them adore her.
