Bill Frisciks-Warren wrote about Sharon Jones in October 2007 for The Washington Post:
Sharon Jones's band has been getting all the attention of late for its work with trouble girl Amy Winehouse, and well it should: There's no tighter, more inventive ensemble active in deep funk and soul circles today.
Jones, however, never went anywhere, as her fourth full-length album since 2002 attests. The irrepressible, hard-touring shouter from Brooklyn sounds as committed and in command as ever. Not only that, the album's 10 tracks serve as a primer for just how varied a genre funk can be, with a program that ranges from salty fatback (the title track) and Meters-style chicken-scratch ("Nobody's Baby") to slinky Southern soul ("Be Easy") and Motown-inflected pop ("Tell Me").
"When the Other Foot Drops, Uncle" is rife with gospel-steeped preachments and call-and-response, even if some of the lyrics are hardly the stuff of the choir loft. "Something's Changed," an ominous dispatch from the ashes of a love affair, makes use of swaying Latin rhythms, while in "Keep On Looking," the Dap-Kings vamp like jazz messengers. In "Humble Me," their pain-in-my-heart triplets open things up enough for their leader to show that, more just a first-rate belter, she and her supple alto can plead with the best of them.
Booting horns, juking rhythms and chank-a-lank guitar abound on the album. Its running time might barely exceed 34 minutes, but with grooves this deep and intense, that's just about right, especially when you're getting all meat and no filler.
Chris Richards reviewed a February 2006 Sharon Jones performance for The Washington Post:
In a perfect world, Sharon Jones would kick-start every weekend. Sporting a blouse appropriate for Sunday services, the soul firecracker delivered a revelatory hour of James Brown-inspired rave-ups at the Black Cat on Friday night.
Jones was so fervid, so captivating that her enamored audience might not have noticed her backing band, the Dap-Kings, had they not warmed up the crowd beforehand. The seven-piece troupe donned thrift store suits and laid down an equally vintage groove. Horns seared, guitars dripped with the perfect amount of reverb, the hi-hat and snare snapped like an old Stax 45. And while their delivery was a bit stiff, the Dap-Kings still sounded tighter -- and grittier -- than the mini-orchestra James Brown had backing him at his Washington performance last December.
The Godfather of Soul is obviously Jones's idol. She said as much later in the show, but proved it the moment she stepped onstage, charging through the tight and busy grooves of "Got to Be the Way It Is." Jones's singing evokes the energy of Brown acolytes Lyn Collins and Marva Whitney, but her voice is a coarser, brawnier instrument. And she wasn't afraid top it off with a shriek worthy of funk legend Betty Davis.
"It's time for a cover," Jones declared late in the set. "And whenever we do a cover we lose our minds!" With that, the Dap-Kings tore into a wicked take on the folk classic "This Land Is Your Land." It was the funkiest Woody Guthrie cover one could ever hope to hear.
