Jill Sobule, the bold, witty singer-songwriter whose career was defined by fearless storytelling and groundbreaking representation, has died at age 66 following a tragic house fire in Woodbury, Minnesota. The fire’s cause has not yet been determined, and her publicist confirmed the heartbreaking news on Thursday.
Known best for her 1995 hit “I Kissed a Girl,” Sobule was more than a charting artist—she was a cultural catalyst. Her song, long before pop embraced queer visibility, became the first openly gay-themed track to reach the Billboard Top 20. It was a quiet revolution wrapped in catchy guitar riffs and clever lyrics, released over a decade before the music industry was ready to openly embrace LGBTQ+ narratives.
But for those who followed her career, “I Kissed a Girl” was just one chapter in a life’s work filled with depth, humor, and humanity. Across more than a dozen albums, Sobule’s songs tackled everything from eating disorders and political unrest to adolescence and activism. She sang about the French Resistance and reproductive rights, adolescent disillusionment, and even the polarizing impact of American politics, all with a disarming blend of vulnerability and sly wit.
In a statement announcing her death, her publicist described her as a “Denver-born songwriter/guitarist/singer” who brought “soul-bearing authenticity” to every topic she touched. Sobule, they noted, had “constantly explored new models to empower artists,” becoming a pioneer in the world of crowdfunding before platforms like Kickstarter became household names. A favorite of the tech-savvy “digirati,” she performed at TED conferences more than any other musician—proof of her status as both artist and thinker.
Her passing leaves an unmistakable void in the music world and beyond. “Jill Sobule was a force of nature and human rights advocate whose music is woven into our culture,” said her longtime manager, John Porter. “I lost a client and a friend today.” He added, “I hope her music, memory, and legacy continue to live on and inspire others.”
Craig Grossman, Sobule’s booking agent, echoed the sentiment, remembering not only her talent but her humor and humanity. “No one made me laugh more,” he said. “Her spirit and energy shall be greatly missed within the music community and beyond.”
Sobule’s most recent project, a semi-autobiographical coming-of-age musical titled Fck 7th Grade*, was both a critical and audience success. It was nominated for a Drama Desk Award and hailed by The New York Times as a critics’ pick. The production offered fans a raw, often humorous glimpse into the formative moments of her life—embracing awkwardness, growth, and identity with the same authenticity that defined her music.
Jill Sobule didn’t chase trends—she set her own path. While the music industry swirled with changing styles and commercial pressures, she remained unapologetically herself: quirky, thoughtful, and brimming with courage. Her songs, often steeped in personal reflection or biting social commentary, were the kind that made listeners laugh, cry, and think—sometimes all within a single verse.
While she enjoyed moments of commercial success, Sobule’s influence went far beyond chart positions. She was a trailblazer for independent artists, a model for queer representation in mainstream media, and a champion for the underrepresented—whether singing about girls who love girls or about the loneliness of adolescence.
Outside of her artistic contributions, Sobule was a beloved presence in every room she entered. Friends and colleagues speak of her generosity, her ability to bring lightness even to difficult topics, and her unwavering belief in the power of art to create change.
Jill Sobule is survived by her brother and sister-in-law, her nephews, and many cousins. A formal memorial celebrating her life and legacy is planned for later this summer, with details yet to be announced.
As the music world says goodbye to a truly singular voice, her lyrics and melodies remain—a living archive of wit, compassion, and rebellion. In every note she strummed and every story she told, Jill Sobule reminded us that being different was not only okay—it was beautiful.
She may be gone, but her songs will keep singing.
