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Grace Jones
Palace Foreshore, St Kilda
Monday March 02
The rain drizzled slowly yet persistently on the stage as roadies and crew frantically tried to mop up the mess, eventually resorting to putting down carpet and hoisting a curtain over the stage to contain the damage.
Only half an hour late Grace Jones is seated at a large white throne, her royal subjects beneath her ready to receive a sermon. Dark glasses shade her face as she opens with ‘ Nightclubbing’, the audience enraptured by her interpretation of Iggy Pop’s song.
During her costume change backstage between songs she talks to her wardrobe assistant Jane –
Yeah, I’m trying to have some fun tonight. I know, Jane. I know chaos. That’s the first statement I read. Somebody said, you’re fucking show is chaos. I’m like, I love chaos. Spank you, Jane, for a lot of chaos. Thank you, Mary. A lot of chaos. Where are my fucking glasses? I thought I was supposed to be on half an hour ago. I know.
She seems un-phased by the term chaos, and leans into it the whole night- but it works for her. Grace Jones is the unapologetic Queen of Chaos, and it is sensational. Changing costumes each song, from elaborate head dresses to silver sequined numbers each one is more elaborate. In between each song we get a running commentary of what is going on inside her head – from costume changes to not being able to find the lyric sheet, she is unfiltered and raw. Grace Jones is unique and she gives zero fucks if you like her or not – and she’ll flash her boobs at you just to offend you.
Changing into a Jamaican inspired head dress for ‘ My Jamaican Guy’ she has the support act carry her back up to her throne where she flashed her breasts at the crowd.
“So from Jamaica, Darling Now, don’t ever forget my wine, ever. I have come from church. I have constant opinions. Wow. And we’re going to Argentina. Uh huh. We are trying. And kick him out. How good this must be. Oh, my God. Yeah. I start to feel so hot. You know music, you know how to stop… That’s why I need my… Uh huh.”
She writhes around on the throne, sexy, sassy and chaotic, turning herself upside down at one point- before getting stuck and calling for assistance.
It’s almost time for the show to wrap up and Grace is disappointed that things have come to an end so quickly- she’s been having the time of her life on stage, leaning into the chaos.
Yeah, really? Hear my love. Feel my love. I feel your love. Feeling it, feel it. I’m feeling it. I’m feeling you. I’m feeling you’re feeling me. feeling Okay, they’re gonna pull the plug. Seriously? Don’t let me know. You can’t pull the plug. I have to know in advance. Eat the wheel of the whole time. Bigger wind don’t come. We’re going to New York. Simon, who is in charge of the plug. Who is in charge of the plug, Simon? All right, we’ll do a quick bump up. We do, who’s gonna carry me? Are you serious? I can’t bend my knees in Sydney. Whoo! Stop!
She then grabs a security guard, cranks up the bubble machine and seated on his shoulders while singing, goes out to greet her loyal subjects.
In a world where offense is taken over the slightest infractions, and people are triggered and upset by the smallest things, a breast flashing, zero fucks given Grace Jones is refreshing. What the world needs is more powerhouse chaotic women who don’t dim their shine, refuse to apologize and are brave enough to live authentically. In a world full of perfect curation, Grace Jones is a breath of fresh air – the antithesis to culture that has become sanitized. Long live the Queen of Chaos.
