When we got to Turner Hall, there were only three people out front, looking for extra tickets. Two of them were a couple, needing tickets, plural. But the other guy was flying solo. And man, did he look sad. We're talking puppy dog eyes and an air of utter defeat. Earlier that afternoon, we lucked into two extra tickets. And with only three people in our party, that left us with one to spare.

The couple was bummed when we told them, "Sorry, we only have one extra ticket." The sad, lonely guy wasn't, though.

"How much do you want for it?" he asked.

"Merry Christmas," my girlfriend said, giving him the ticket.

It made the dude's night. And later on, towards the end of the performance, when Sharon Jones pulled him on stage to dance with her, we realized that act of kindness helped lead to this, which was easily making that dude's entire year.

I tell you this because it wasn't an isolated incident. Even Sharon Jones herself got in on the magic. Two girls with one ticket among them were walking towards Turner Hall, when they noticed Miss Jones in a window a few flights up. So, they did what any sane human being would do, and climbed the fire escape (in heels no less) to beg her to let them both in.

And she did. (But only after she and her Dap Kings captured the hilarious moment on film.)

We missed all but three songs from the opening act, a massive multi-membered soul party filled with familiar musical faces. Someone told me it was their first live gig, which is scary, considering how good they sounded. But this might also explain why I know so little about the band itself.

Then Binky Griptite and the rest of the Dap Kings walked on stage, and it became my turn to feel like a kid on Christmas morning. I imagine this is what it was like to see the J.B.s in their heyday, a band so tight and precise in their playing, it seems almost inhuman.



And when Sharon Jones walked on stage? Hoo boy. That crowd got loud. And they got down. Even the staunchest of non-dancers among us let go of our pretension and shook something.

The night ended with an encore-- a cover of James Brown's "This is a Man's World" that made me believe Sharon Jones voice could make even God Almighty weak in the knees, and a contrastingly up-tempoed song that I can't remember the name of (post-show haze), which involved enough dancing, banter, and crowd interaction to perfectly sum up the entire set before it. Hours after the show ended, I still couldn't knock that smile off my face. No one could. Those acts of kindness at the beginning of the night set the course for the rest of the evening, for everyone. No fights. No nuisances. Just the best good time so far this year.