The patriarchy’s favorite party trick is erasing revolutionary women from cultural memory. So when flames consumed a Woodbury, Minnesota home on Thursday morning, taking iconic singer-songwriter Jill Sobule at 66, the music world didn’t just lose an artist—it lost one of its most necessary disruptors.
Award-winning singer-songwriter Jill Sobule died in a house fire early Thursday morning in Woodbury, Minnesota, her publicist has confirmed. Sobble’s publicist, David Elkin, confirmed she had died in the fire in an email Thursday afternoon. She had been in the Twin Cities to record a podcast with former Cities 97 and 89.3 The Current DJ Brian Oake and help prepare for a show, “Jill Sobule presents F*ck 7th Grade & More: A Pride Month Event!,” which was scheduled to be performed at the Parkway Theater in Minneapolis on June 11.
Breaking Boundaries Before It Was Cool
Her 1995 single “I Kissed A Girl” made history as the first openly gay-themed song to break into Billboard’s Top 20, despite being banned on several southern radio stations. You know how you feel when someone steals your thunder? Thirteen years before Katy Perry’s sanitized version stormed the charts, Sobule had already lit the match.
Born in Denver, Colorado, on January 16, 1959, Sobule described herself as a shy child who preferred observing over participating. Her sardonic “Supermodel” was featured in the movie “Clueless”, slicing through the glossy veneer of beauty standards, brewing a feminist cocktail that tasted like candy while burning like whiskey.
A Voice That Refused to Fade
“In a good way, I feel like I’m still a rookie,” she said in 2023. “There’s so much more to do and I haven’t done my best yet.” This wasn’t false modesty—it was the creative restlessness that simmers beneath all revolutionary art.
LGBTQ+ Icon and Trailblazer
GLAAD president Sarah Kate Ellis highlighted Sobule’s groundbreaking impact: “Long before it was safe or common, Jill was writing and singing about sexuality and identity with raw honesty and wit. At a time when doing so could have cost her everything, she chose truth. That courage helped pave the way for today’s artists like Brandi Carlile, Tegan and Sara, Lil Nas X, Sam Smith, Adam Lambert, and so many others who now stand proud and open in their music.”
During her more than three decades of recording, Sobule released 12 albums that addressed such complex topics as the death penalty, anorexia nervosa, reproduction, and LGBTQ+ issues. Her sound blended folk vulnerability with punk audacity, a musical Molotov cocktail that felt as at home in dive bars as it did in theater seats.
Industry Rebel and Crowdfunding Pioneer
When the industry machine inevitably tried to silence her, after two major record companies dumped her and two indie labels went bankrupt beneath her, Sobule didn’t whimper into obscurity. Instead, she pioneered crowdfunding in 2008, raising tens of thousands of dollars directly from fans to finance her next album. While other artists waited for permission slips from industry gatekeepers, Sobule built her damn stage.
Her final act? “F*ck 7th Grade,” an autobiographical musical that earned a Drama Desk nomination after premiering at New York’s Wild Project in 2022. The show enjoyed four theatrical runs in three years, and it wasn’t just entertainment—it was emotional excavation transmuted into art.
Legacy That Lives On
While the official cause of death is still under investigation by the Ramsey County Medical Examiner, with toxicology results pending, fans are already honoring Jill Sobule’s memory in the spirit of her music. What would have been a live performance in Denver became a heartfelt tribute, hosted by longtime friend Ron Bostwick of 105.5 The Colorado Sound, where attendees were invited to share a story or song. A formal memorial is planned for later this summer to celebrate the life and legacy of a talent often remembered as a forgotten one-hit wonder who left a lasting emotional imprint far beyond the charts.
In a music landscape where authenticity gets manufactured in marketing meetings, Sobule remained that rarest of creatures—a genuine article in an industry of photocopies. “I love telling the stories of the songs,” she told Billboard in 2018. Her voice might be silenced, but the doors she kicked down remain gloriously, permanently ajar.
