"They" are everywhere. "They" say a lot. "They" are illusive and wily. Who do "they" think "they" are, anyway?" And now "they" are all talking about Sharon Jones and The Dap Kings, a super-traditional, ultra-suave, funk-soul sensation straight out of Brooklyn.

"They" have got Jones singing duets, "they" have the Dap Kings' ballsy brass plugged into side work in the studio and on the road, and "they" are piling into juke joints, plush palaces, opulent opera houses, and down 'n' dirty dives to hear the band get down. "They" all love Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings; the band blows "they" away.

Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings ain't nothin' new; the band's been hard at it for more than a decade, keeping the hip set on dance floors worldwide. It has its own label, Daptone Records, through which it has released three albums - "Dap Dippin' With Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings," "Naturally," "100 Days, 100 Nights," and a pile of 7-inchers.

There's always been a buzz, but the band's pop-radar blip got bigger when it served as Amy Winehouse's backing band - sans Jones - on Winehouse's sophomore smash "Back To Black" in 2006. The album spawned a number of hits and went platinum five times in the UK, but the beehived British belle's much-publicized dalliances with a Wonka-sized assortment of nose candy, booze, and other delights turned her coquettish swagger to a tabloid stagger. So while she began fading back to black, "they" kept talking about the Dap Kings. Kanye West sampled them, and the group was handpicked to be the house band at the 2007 MTV Awards. Soon, "they" began to hear Jones' name in the same breath. The glow of The Dap Kings' success began to shed its light on Jones.

"When The Dap Kings got to do the stuff with Mark [Ronson, producer] and Amy [Winehouse], they'd look up the name," Jones says. "They'd see my name and listen to some of the stuff, and I guess they could see why Amy and Mark came to us in the first place."

It's helped in the long run, but Jones felt a little slighted.

"They didn't use me with her vocally," she says. "But at least they used The Dap Kings. It sort of bothered me a little bit, but then it didn't. Because I look at it as, Thank god for them. Because if it wasn't for Mark coming to get us, you wouldn't have heard of me. It's all worked out."

It's taken a long time to work out. For years Jones didn't fit the bill for what "they" wanted. She sang back-up on countless recording sessions as Lafaye Jones (if she was credited at all) and worked assorted straight jobs, including a stint as a corrections officer at Rikers Island. But she couldn't break through as a solo artist. "They" told her she was too black, too short, too fat, too old. "They" had their heads up their asses.

"That's what was going on in the late 70's going into the 80's," says Jones. "They were looking for a look, and me being dark-skinned and short...and they considered me fat. And once I passed 25, they considered me too old."

Just hang on a goddamned minute: Sharon Jones is beautiful. But you don't hear that on a record.

"No, you ain't supposed to hear that," she says. "But that's the way they had things going. But I always knew that god had given me a gift, and I knew that one day people would accept me for my voice."

Like many soul, r&b, and blues singers, Jones discovered her voice in church. "When I was a little girl I had to play an angel in church," Jones says. "They were doing ‘Silent Night.' They gave me wings and a little halo. I couldn't have been any more than 5 years old. And I remember they were like, ‘Ooo, that little girl can sing.'"

And at 53 the lady can still sing, belt, and wail. The wings are long gone, but on some nights when Jones is absolutely wringing her soul out on stage, "they" can still see that halo.

Born in Augusta, Georgia, and raised in New York City, it was musicians like James Brown, anyone or anything on Motown, and Aretha Franklin that got her going. "Aretha really inspired me when she came out with that gospel album," Jones says.

And there's no doubt when she opens her mouth that there's a devil in Miss Jones. Her tone is ragged and smooth, irresistible and menacing. It's a full-on, straight-up, knocked-out soul-sister seduction.

And of course there's The Dap Kings, laying down a funky shag with vintage elegance. It isn't retro, it's classic. The spaces between the notes are as important as the notes themselves. And this gives Jones the opportunity to throw a saddle over it all and ride. It's a sick groove, and it will knock you out.

"When they come to our show," says Jones. "I'd just like everybody to go out of there saying ‘Wow.' That's what it's all about to me. You pay your money to see a show so you need to see a show, a good show. And usually when they go out they go, ‘I haven't seen anything like that like that since James Brown, or a show at The Apollo.' And I think that's what the people get. They just come in and enjoy what we do. They feel it. That's what we do; make you feel what we do. Each time on that stage could be my last, and I wanna give you everything I got."

It's these non-stop funk 'n' soul sweat-a-thons that are slowly bringing the band to the top. Shit's finally starting to go its way.

"We've been doing this for...I don't know, this should be going on year 14," Jones says. "And we've just never stopped doing what we've been doing. For me, more doors are opening; Michael Buble just had me do a duet with him, I just finished a job with Phish doing The Rolling Stones' ‘Exile On Main Street'...more people are listening and picking up and getting on to us. And that's great. So maybe more of these young people out here doing this stuff and hooking up with me will just make people more aware that this funk thing is here to stay."

Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings

Saturday, November 21

Water Street Music Hall, 204 N Water St.

8 p.m., | $25-$30 | 325-5600, daptonerecords.com