From “Appreciate Me” to “A Song About Freedom,” Amuka has built a dance catalog spanning more than two decades, and she’s still adding to it.

Dance music has never been known for standing still. Clubs change, DJs change, sounds change, and the song everyone is screaming for one summer can easily be forgotten by the next. Then there are the records that refuse to go away.

More than 20 years after Amuka first commanded the dance floor, her music is still being played, streamed and performed. The songs that established her in the early aughts have crossed generations of club culture, while Amuka continues creating new music. And there is an important distinction to her story: Amuka wasn’t simply handed a collection of dance tracks to sing. With writing credits attached to the music that built her career, she helped create the songs that audiences continue to embrace decades later.

At the center of it all is the record that changed everything: “Appreciate Me.” Released in 2003 on Star 69 Records, “Appreciate Me” paired Amuka with legendary DJ and producer Peter Rauhofer, one of the defining forces of that era of club music. It was the right artist, the right producer and the right moment.

Rauhofer understood the drama and power of a packed dance floor, and Amuka had the voice and attitude to take command of it. Together, they created a record that didn’t politely ask for attention. It demanded it. “Appreciate Me” became Amuka’s calling card and remains a centerpiece of her performances today. When those familiar opening sounds hit, the reaction is immediate. For longtime fans, a few seconds can suddenly bring back an entire era. That’s the power of a real dance classic. But one anthem doesn’t tell the Amuka story.

In 2006, Amuka delivered “I Want More (Cling On To Me)” through Kult Records, a track that became an important moment in her dance career. The song received a remix from iconic DJ and producer Offer Nissim, whose version helped propel the track to #1 on the dance charts. That same year, Amuka teamed up with acclaimed DJ and producer Tracy Young for “Craving,” released on Ultra Records. The collaboration brought another powerful entry to Amuka’s growing catalog, pairing her commanding vocals with Young’s production and further strengthening her presence on the dance floor.

In 2008, “Miss You” brought another dimension. Released through (Dot)-Joy Records, the track paired dance-floor energy with emotion and vulnerability, showing that Amuka’s music could make you feel something while still making you move. 

Then came “Stand Up” in 2009, a title perfectly suited to an artist whose music had always carried strength and attitude. In 2011, “Give It To Ya” extended a body of work that had already carried Amuka through nearly a decade of dance music.

During those years, the industry surrounding her was undergoing a revolution. CD singles disappeared from record-store shelves. Downloads transformed the business before streaming transformed it again. Famous clubs closed and new ones took their place. DJs went from carrying vinyl and CDs into the booth to having thousands of tracks available digitally. Amuka’s catalog made the transition with them.

Today, those records aren’t trapped in someone’s old CD collection. Her dance hits remain available through digital and streaming services, including iTunes, making it possible for longtime fans to rediscover favorites and for a completely different generation to discover them for the first time. But longevity is only half of this story. Amuka is still making music.

In 2025, she turned the volume back up with “Party Up in Here,” a title that couldn’t be more appropriate for an artist whose connection to nightlife has remained such an important part of her career, followed by her latest release, “A Song About Freedom.” And that’s what makes this chapter of Amuka’s career particularly exciting.

Her music now creates a bridge between two different generations of dance culture. There are fans who remember the era of Peter Rauhofer, Star 69 Records, packed clubs and buying physical CD singles. Now those same songs sit alongside Amuka’s newest releases in a world where listeners can discover an artist’s entire career with a few taps on a phone. What once required a trip to a record store can now happen instantly.

And when you put the catalog together, “Appreciate Me,” “I Want More (Cling On To Me),” “Craving,” “Miss You,” “Stand Up,” “Give It To Ya,” “Party Up in Here,” and “A Song About Freedom,” you hear something bigger than a collection of singles. You hear an artist evolving without abandoning the dance floor that gave her a home.

More than two decades separate Amuka’s breakthrough from her newest music, yet the thread running through it remains unmistakable: the voice, the attitude, the writing and the ability to turn emotion into something people want to move to. There will always be something special about hearing “Appreciate Me” and remembering where it all began.

But Amuka’s story doesn’t end with the record that made people notice her. Check out Amuka’s catalog of hits on iTunes and other streaming platforms, including YouTube.

Eileen Shapiro spoke with Amuka and learned how her career started from the beginning.

Amuka – Dancing in Heels Through a Life of Funk, Rock, Reinvention and Survival

Sheila Horne, known to the music world as Amuka, has traveled through nearly every corner of contemporary music. Her extraordinary journey has crossed funk, R&B, rock, pop, dance and hip-hop, placing her alongside some of the most influential personalities in music history. From George Clinton and the P-Funk family to Rick James and the Mary Jane Girls touring ensemble, from working with Cyndi Lauper to contributing vocals to Public Enemy, Amuka has experienced the music business from a perspective few artists can claim.

But behind the legendary names is Sheila’s own remarkable story. She is a singer, songwriter, mother, survivor and fiercely independent artist who spent years contributing to the careers and music of others while learning unforgettable lessons about creativity, loyalty, fame, ego and survival. Now, as Amuka, she believes the moment has arrived to put herself at the center of the story.

Amuka is stepping into an exciting new chapter with the release of her latest music, bringing her unmistakable voice, energy, and fearless spirit back into the spotlight. 

Released this Summer titled  “A Song About Freedom” showcases another side of an artist who has never been afraid to evolve-combining the infectious dance energy that has defined her career with messages of empowerment, individuality and strength.

The new releases remind listeners why Amuka continues to command attention: She doesn’t simply sing a song, she gives it a pulse, a personality and a purpose.

Candid, funny, spiritual and unapologetically outspoken, Amuka recalls the people who shaped her, the experiences that tested her, the miracles that changed her life and why, after helping so many others along the way, she can finally say: “It’s my turn.”

INTERVIEW >

Your career has crossed funk, R&B, rock, pop, dance and hip-hop. When you look back, how do you describe your musical journey?

Wow! A musical oasis. It’s like a smorgasbord. I love all good music. It doesn’t even matter what kind of genre it is, as long as it is good music and it fits me.

I grew up in Syracuse, New York. At the time, there was no R&B station in Syracuse. It was all pop, no R&B, so I grew up on pop and rock. I always kind of gravitated toward the rock genre.

Then I ended up with George Clinton, who hired me right on the spot. I didn’t even know who he was! He invited me to the studio, and I didn’t even know what I was doing. I brought my little music with me. George came down the stairs wearing red leather from head to toe. It was 90 degrees outside, and he was in six-inch heels. I’m looking at him thinking, “Who is this guy?”

I was introduced to him and he was told, “This is Sheila.” He asked me if I had a passport. I said, “No”. He said, “You need to get one because you’re hired. You’re going to Europe.”

I couldn’t believe it because I had always wanted to go to Europe. George personally hired me on the spot. Nobody could fire me because he had hired me himself, and that was just the way it was. Eventually I left on my own, but it was a really cool place to be.

I’ve had a lot of miracles in my life.

You worked closely with George Clinton and the P-Funk family. What did George Clinton teach you about creativity, performance and taking musical risks?

At one point, I was always singing in the same register. George said, “Why don’t you explore your registers? Why don’t you go low? Why don’t you try this?”

That’s how “Appreciate Me” came about. I started exploring my lower register, and it worked.

I always watched George whenever he performed onstage. The way he engaged with the audience and the way the audience gave that energy back to him was magical.

When I lived in Italy and was doing my shows there, they wouldn’t let me engage with the audience in the same way. It felt so weird because I had always seen George do that. 

To me, it was important to engage with your fans.

He always taught me that without your fans, you wouldn’t be you. He would tell me, “Don’t shun your fans. If they want an autograph, give them an autograph. Don’t do that ‘I’m too busy’ stuff.”

He also taught me about ego. Whenever you feel like your ego is getting out of control or you’re getting too full of yourself, take all that badass stuff and flush it down the toilet. George would tell people to check their ego at the door.

He noticed how people treated each other, too. If somebody brought you into the fold and then you started mistreating the person who helped you get there, George noticed. He wouldn’t give that person the time of day.

My mother loved him. George had to ask her permission for me to go on the road because I was really young. My mother said, “Yes, George, but you better treat her right and you better take good care of her, or I’m not letting her go.”

He promised her he would.

Through the years, he would call and say, “Hey, I still got her!”

When my mother had brain surgery, George showed up at my house with his wife and spent the entire day with us. He was a busy man, but that’s how much he loved her. I guess me, too.

You were an original member of Rick James’ Mary Jane Girls touring ensemble. What was it like being inside the extraordinary world surrounding Rick James at that time?

Rick was the ultimate rock star, baby.

When I went to his house, [singer] Val Young always made it sound like she told him he needed to get me, but the truth is that Rick said, “Go get that little cute one that works with George Clinton.”

He specifically asked for me.

Rick told me, “George’s ship is sinking. You need to be on my boat. My boat is sailing.”

I loved him. He was amazing. When Rick talked about living a rock-star life, he meant it. He really lived that way.

His closets were so organized. He had so many clothes, shoes and boots. He had a lot of cowboy boots. He was a kind and generous man, but he was also a womanizer. I’m not going to lie.

I turned one of my girlfriends on to doing his hair, and she got paid so well that her wedding was in Hawaii.

I really adored Rick.

Unfortunately, I had a serious situation with his road manager, Aaron. He wanted to have sex with me. He thought that because he was the road manager and I was a singer, I was supposed to be with him. My mother had always taught me not to get involved with a man who was responsible for paying or employing me.

Eventually we had a confrontation. He was trying to put me in a room with a roommate because I wouldn’t sleep with him. I told him, “Dude, I don’t have to deal with you. I’ll just talk to Rick when he wakes up.”

He called me a bitch, and when I turned around, he physically kicked me.

I sued, and I won. I didn’t win what I believe I should have won. It was still a time when you could do things like that to women and a lot of it remained under the radar.

I didn’t sue Rick. Rick and I were fine.

There were some crazy moments, too. One time George and Sly went into Rick’s room and asked him to cash a check. Rick said, “It better not be rubber.”

I knew it was rubber! I didn’t say anything.

It bounced so hard.

Rick had a meeting and said, “Your boys bounced that check.”

I told him, “I told you not to give it to them, but you did anyway because those were your icons.”

Whenever Rick had any kind of situation, he would bring the whole entourage in to discuss it. That was Rick’s world.

You worked with Cyndi Lauper during the 1980s and ‘90s. What stands out to you about performing with her?

I sang for Cyndi. I was going to do the “Hat Full of Stars” tour with her. Junior Vasquez hooked it up.

She always said we were going to do a duet together. But there were tensions within the group, and eventually things became complicated.

Cyndi kept asking us to go to lunch. [Another singer] knew her, and she kept saying, “No, trust me, you don’t want to go to lunch.”

One day, we finally did.

I had just had a baby and was getting back to feeling like myself again. [The other singer] had the bangingest body ever. We were walking to lunch and passed some construction workers. They were paying a lot of attention to her and me, but they paid Cyndi no attention.

Cyndi said something like, “God, I guess they think I’m just some old bag lady.”

[The other singer] immediately said, “We’re getting fired.”

I was like, “What? What are you talking about?”

She wasn’t lying. We got fired.

I don’t have anything against Cyndi. We were supposed to sing a duet together. But I felt like I was beginning to get too much attention from people around the project. She had even asked [the other singer] where I was getting all my cute clothes.

I had just had a baby. I was simply trying to get back to myself.

What bothered me most was the way we were fired. Somebody else was sent to tell us instead of Cyndi doing it herself.

I didn’t know the industry worked like that. But I was learning.

You’ve also contributed vocals to Public Enemy. How did working in hip-hop compare with your experiences in funk, rock and dance music?

It was actually very similar.

I wrote a song called “Mississippi” with Public Enemy. Here’s something that will blow your mind: My maiden name is Horne, and then there was the story involving [mysteriously deceased 18-year-old] Nolan Wells on Horn Island. People ask me why I wrote a song called “Mississippi,” and honestly, I have no idea. Sometimes songs just come to you.

There was also a lot happening behind the scenes around the people involved. I was doing a video with them called “Honky Tonk Rules,” and there were management situations, personal relationships and conflicts happening around us.

That’s something I’ve seen throughout the music industry. Whether it’s funk, rock, dance or hip-hop, the personalities and politics surrounding the music can become just as complicated as the music itself.

After spending so much of your career contributing to other artists’ music, what made you decide to step forward with your own identity as Amuka?

It’s my turn.

God.

I felt like God was saying, “Count your blessings. You’re the one who is blessed. I blessed you. Why aren’t you focusing on your blessings? You can’t even count that high, girl. I blessed you so much.”

When I owned that, blessings started coming my way.

I’ve thought about how many people I’ve helped. [Singer] Maya Simantov from Israel—I went there and helped her get her publishing corrected. 

I helped others too. All these people went on to do amazing things.

I have helped a lot of people.

And you know what?

It’s my turn.

You’ve spoken about a memoir, “Dancing in Heels.” What stories from your life do you most want people to finally hear in your own words?

My husband and I have this ongoing thing about horror movies. You always see the chick running in heels, and then she falls. Once that happens, we’re not watching any more of that movie. That’s the straw!

So I started thinking about “Dancing in Heels Across the Galaxy.”

Then I kept changing the title. At one point, I had “Dancing in Heels Across the Galaxy: What Boss Bitches Do.”

That was when my friend drew this picture of a Yorkie on top of a pile of money, with the word “BOSS.” 

I have that Yorkie today.

So I thought, okay, I have a pile of money to manifest, too, because she was sitting on a pile of money!

That’s how my life has been.

There’s also a metaphysical side to my life. I have a friend who makes pyramids. I use them when I sing. I put them on my head, and I believe they help me sing. They’re amazing. He’s actually a rocket scientist who lives in New York.

There are so many strange, funny, spiritual and unbelievable stories from my life that I want people to finally hear in my own words.

Is there a part of your musical history that you feel has never received the recognition it deserves?

Yes.

A journalist friend of mine said something to me when I was doing the thing with George. He said, “They’re not treating you right, Sheila. They’re not giving you the respect you deserve.”

He was about fighting for the artist.

I’ve spent years working with incredible people, contributing to other artists and helping other people move forward. I’m proud of everything I’ve done.

But now, I’m ready for people to know my story, too.

Amuka performing live – Crystal Waters presents I AM HOUSE
ORCHESTRATED: PALLADIUM TIMES SQUARE 11/19/26