Grace Jones at Palace Foreshore
Nick Buckley
MUSIC
Grace Jones ★★★★★
Palace Coast, 2 March
A billowing black stage curtain and ominous rumblings match the stormy, humid night on the St Kilda coast as the crowd erupts in disheveled, wet screams. The curtain rises and Grace Jones is a dazzling 77 years old, seated regal on a silver throne, wearing serious sunglasses and her head crowned with extravagant black feathers.
Nightclub’s new wave dub fusion debut. Our queen is thirsty. Wine is produced. When she says, “I’m going to have some fun tonight,” it sounds like a threat and she whips herself with the strings of her glittery dress.
There is a costume change for almost every song. “I love chaos,” she bellows in her rich contralto. Her makeup fogs up as she hits a double symbol and the crowd chants “hot” Warm Faux Leather.
Jones is nursing a broken knee following his show in Sydney and orders his support band, The Illustious Blacks, to restore him to his throne. They carry out their duties cautiously, afraid of the possibility of bringing down their idol. The seat is not meant to sit, and Jones turns upside down with her back against the seat, sitting upside down on either side of the throne, with her pelvic part thrust inwards. My Jamaican Man. There is a deliberate shift.
Jones is majestic during the rain swirling around his hooped Keith Haring-like dress, arms outstretched, wine in one hand, tambourine in the other. Blood of Williams.
Many performance beats remain from Jones’ last tour in 2018, but are delivered with such spirit that repetitions are irrelevant. A bad leg doesn’t stop him from climbing onto a security guard’s shoulders Pull up to the bumper or hula-hopping altogether. Slave of Rhythm. Sound curfew begins and there’s no replay, but Jones delivered in spades. Artists who are decades younger are regularly making less.
Reviewed by Nick Buckley
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