News of Grace Jones’s show on the 28 February came with a shuddering caveat. Will it clash with the Mardi Gras Parade, in a sick replay of the Kylie Minogue debacle?
Here we are, 20 bodies length from the stage that the iconic maga-star will appear en plein with all the anticipated surreal glamour, theatrical chaos, and commanding presence. The crowd on the steps and we, in the mosh pit, relish the thrill that’s building up in experiencing the explosive diva.
To the standing room- only crowd bopping to their respective genre of dance moves, warmed up by the preceding act of two fantastic entertainers, the energy was pulsing. She will always be the inimitable, incomparable, the forever iconic Grace Jones, as we wait, hyped for the curtain to rise. From the rear of the forecourt, with the moon rising, a bold voice boomed out: “Ladies and Gentlemen, Ms Grace Jones”. Twice. A deliberate pause.
When the lights flared, the crowd l went ape shit, revealing the icon seated on a golden throne. Jones pulled off a spectacular performance backed by a band stoically soundtracking everything from avant-guard club rock to tangy Gallic pop. Jones purrs and sings almost as seductively as she ever did within her limited range. What those early songs that she calls her classics, lack in conventional structure and melody, they often make up for in mood, be it menacing, sensual, but always groovy.
Then when proper tunes join the party, the leap forward is fantastic. The band cuts loose with ‘Pull up to the Bumper’, causing the heaving crowd to rev-loose before Jones smoulders and impressively hoola-hoops through a sublime ‘Slave to the Rhythm’. She admits to being forgetful, so what? More power to her, especially when she puts on a show no one is going to forget, any time soon. Oh, and she struggles to keep her clothes on, tonight festooned with what she calls her ‘tribal makeup’, occasionally accessorising it with designer garments climaxing in preposterous headdress. Jones doesn’t disappoint in pulling off a spectacular performance. The still- striking 77- year-old sometimes forgets which song is next in rotation, crying out in self defence- ” I am jet-lagged”.
Her energy is something to experience. She does sit-ups, singing prone backwards and even flashing the audience, her verve matching her rich tonsils. The crowd went ballistic for ‘Never Stop the Action, Keep It Up, Keep It Up’. She wore her exhibitionism with her usual flair. Not content with the song ending, she repeats snippets of each song long after the band stops.
We the audience were in rapture. Her throaty, raspy tone bringing magic on this pale moonlit night. She will remain always, the inimitable, incomparable, the forever iconic Grace Jones.
Photography by Ken Leanfore
