We first encountered the literally unstoppable sixty one year old hurricane known as Grace Jones on Jonathan Ross' pitifully bad yet addictive (due to the talent it attracts, God know's how) chat show earlier this year, and were immediately taken a few steps back at how fucking fabulous she was. A dynamic and colourful character sprawled across the sofa, effortlessly rolling off anecdotes and idiosyncrasies to revel in, consequently spurring us to track down some of her material. We started with a compilation of her best material, Island Life, which while not the most innovative music you will hear, is clearly a collection of iconic, era-defining music by an artist brimming with creativity. Of course, we had to find her latest LP, the aptly-named Hurricane - her first album in nineteen years no less. That single album forced us to take a double look at this artist. As we mentioned, she is in to her seventh decade - while really that shouldn't limit creativity, if we follow industry and media stereotypes, we should have been shocked at how fucking brilliant the album was, from start to finish. And we were.
So back in February when the headliners for Latitude Festival were announced, we were ecstatic to find Grace Jones was topping the bill of the festival's Saturday. The day arrived, and we found ourselves queuing for the front row barrier two hours before Ms Jones was due to arrive at the stage. We were aware of her reputation for being a spectacular performer of legendary status - performing inside cages with unrestrained tigers, walking off before she had reached the second song of her set because she hadn't received the correct vintage of red wine in her dressing room, spellbinding audiences across the world. Shiny & New can gladly testify, she did not disappoint. Arriving surprisingly on time, we found Grace abound a suspended platform behind a curtain which fell dramatically amidst dry ice and atmospheric beats. Immediately diving into opener "Nightclubbing", the audience of Guardian-reading, mostly middle-aged kagool wearers lapped it up, understandably. The electricity was unfignorable.
Gliding off stage between every song to arrive back with a new piece of dramatic headwear or jacket to augment her stunning stage presence, the audience were delighted with the outbursts uttered into the microphone off stage. "I am so thirsty everybody, and no one believes me. Give me something to suck on." "Are you still there?" "Get me a drink somebody. Actually get me a spliff." All in her entrancing Jamaican-American-European hybrid accent, we were treated to such treats as "There is too much light over here" and "Me and Michael Jackson were much alike, we both had horrible religious upbringings" were offered on-stage. Suffice to say, Grace Jones was the highlight of Latitude Festival for us.
Every song, whether it be from the early 80s or Hurricane, was spell-binding and accompanied by effortless stage presence and performance. At one point wrapping her spectacular Jamaican legs around a pole, we could not escape thoughts of Madonna and Grace, arguably our favourite female icons from the 80s, resorting to incorporating leotards leaving little to the imagination into their current day performances - not that we were complaining for one minute. Her body was in prime condition, her breasts were phenomenal (we can say that, we're gay) and, oh yeah, WE TOUCHED HER. Post reflecting a rainbow of lasers from a sparkling bowler hat, she wrapped her legs around an unsuspecting steward and commanded him to take her to her adoring public. Shaking hands with the entire front row, we managed to snag a grasp of her gloriously soft skin. She must bathe in cocoa butter.
We will definitely be seeing this gem in the future. A true icon.
Recommendations
"Slave to the Rhythm" - Grace Jones
"Pull Up to the Bumper" - Grace Jones
"Corporate Cannibal" - Grace Jones
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