Grace Jones
Palace Foreshore, Melbourne
Monday, March 1st
As rain continues to fall, stagehands mop up water from the Palace Foreshore stage’s surface. We watch on, nervously, as a drenched black house curtain is raised, billowing under the force of the wind. Then 37 minutes after the advertised starting time, atmospheric music – which sounds like an incoming gale – surges from the speakers and gets our hopes up.
Finally, the curtain drops, revealing the dramatic silhouette of Miss Grace Jones on an elevated platform upstage. Jones is seated on a white throne wearing all-black suiting with exaggerated shoulder pads, an intricate, pleated headgear and dark shades. With its prowling, measured pace, “Nightclubbing” opens proceedings in sinister fashion.
“Ima come get you now,” the Jamaican-born goddess teases while gingerly descending the stairs. She then tests the stage floor “to make sure I’m not gonna fall on my face”. “This is my voice/ My weapon of choice” – backed by an incredible eight-piece band, which includes her son Paolo Goude on percussion, Jones launches into the reggae-infused “This Is”, provoking, “Rain on me! Rain on me!” mid-song.
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During the “Private Life” intro, Jones admits, “Tell me when, I don’t fucking remember,” before dissolving into laughter while awaiting her vocal cue. Her performance is loose and engaging in a way that lesser artists could only hope to achieve. Much red wine (or “constant communion”, as she calls it) is consumed by Jones throughout the show’s duration, with a trusty assistant on hand to retrieve her empty glass on command. Jones admits she loves chaos and is totally at ease, bantering through endless off-stage costume changes.
The undisputed Queen Of The Costume Change, Jones changes up her impeccably designed look for every single song – even if just switching headgears to showcase yet another striking Philip Treacy creation. One costume change happens on stage after Jones complains she feels claustrophobic in the wings.
Jones suddenly hollers, “Where the fuck are my lyrics?” A stagehand appears, busily flicking through a plastic display book to locate the lyrics to “Warm Leatherette”. During this one, Jones delightedly bashes two cymbals on separate stands.
Illustrious Blacks, tonight’s fabulously fun support act, are summoned on stage to carry Jones back up onto the raised platform. After the duo say they’ll “try”, Jones is suitably horrified: “Ain’t no trying with me, honey! Are you kidding?… Lift me up, muthafuckers!” They get there in the end. From her elevated position, Jones performs “My Jamaican Guy” while straddling the white throne, lying back on the seat and thrusting with legs akimbo. Post-song, she pulls the corset down to flash a nipple before marvelling, “They’re still there!”
Sporting a black, horse-tail headdress, Jones manipulates a red scarf like a bullfighters cape, also incorporating some flamenco stamping, while performing the bewitching “I’ve Seen That Face Before (Libertango)”.
Her ancestral track “Williams’ Blood” is so incredibly powerful that we sense Jones’ paternal predecessors coursing through her. A Grace-i-fied version of “Amazing Grace” follows, with Jones homing in on and repeating the word “wretch”.
“Love Is The Drug” sees Jones materialising as a human mirrorball, with coloured lights ricocheting from her ensemble in every duration.
Word reaches Jones that she’ll need to cut her set short following this evening’s tardy start time, but she won’t have a bar of it. “You can’t pull the plug,” she protests. “I have to know in advance.” Bring on “Pull Up To The Bumper”! From the safety of a burly security guard’s shoulders, Jones parades the full length of the photography pit, surveying her congregation and doling out high-fives to select disciples. A bubble machine transforms this song into a party.
Throughout the entirety of our closer, “Slave To The Rhythm”, Jones demonstrates her gyrating prowess with a hula-hooping masterclass, effortlessly moving around the stage while keeping the hoop in motion. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, heeeeeeere’s Grace!”
So much more than an extraordinary musical artist, Jones has star quality and charisma to spare. We’re stoked to exist at the same time as Jones and bask in her majestic presence for an hour or so.
