If you’re offered a chance to review the iconic Grace Jones, you don’t turn it down. More than a musician, the Jamaican-born force of nature has spent five decades dissolving the boundaries between music, fashion, art and provocation. Emerging from the discos of New York in the late ’70s, she reshaped pop through a prism of androgyny, avant-garde glamour and razor-sharp wit, becoming both muse and architect of her own myth, and even a body guard in the Bond movie, A View To Kill.
When you’ve had this much of an impact on culture, normal rules no longer apply. So, naturally, we knew Jones was going to be late to the stage, with various sources in the crowd confirming as much. RUSSH Contributing Editor, Kitty Callaghan was in the pit waiting, and we texted back and forth wondering how much longer she would be whilst I lingered by the sound desk. The timing was serendipitou: to have Jones play on Mardis Gras weekend meant that Sydney’s energy was more open and electric than usual, especially having been warmed up by The Illustrious Blacks. They opened the evening with a set that was both political and sexy, that rare and necessary collision.
When Jones finally appeared, it was with 'Nightclubbing'. There is something extraordinary about watching a woman in her seventies command a space with more eroticism and statuesque form than artists half her age. It's as though age is irrelevant to her nature. Early in the set, she paused to demand “more vocals in the folds,” gesturing with theatrical impatience towards the stage mix. “She wants to save her voice,” she teased, before delivering the punchline: “She wants to have more than one orgasm.” This early onstage conversation set the tone for a set that was performative and very playful. Jones will make you laugh without ever outstepping her cool, even with a hedonistic sex joke.
Jones commands respect. When one of her crew attempted to deliver her some wine in a paper cup, she immediately refused, demanding a wine glass instead. This came across as a woman who cared about her wine and the formality of enjoying it — not a diva-esque demand, but something more artfully teasing. It's impressive to watch a woman of 77 devour a glass wine, mascara running down her face, and still perform athletically. As the set continued, Jones decided that all the fun wouldn’t be for the band, and during 'Demolition Man', almost demolished a free standing crash symbol. She confessed that even at this stage in her career she can still be excited to play live and connect with her audience, commenting “We’re so excited we want to play every song at once."
It was a Grace Jones show, so naturally costume changes came with near-military precision. There was a new hat for almost every song, silhouettes shifting from angular futurism to something more baroque. Jones wrapped herself in some Issey Miyake for one song, before stripping down to a bodysuit and adding a giant crinoline. She had chosen to have the screens either side of the Opera House only capture her and her band in black and white, which gave this whole experience a timeless cinematic feel.
Ahead of her holy trinity of set closing songs, Jones delivered Amazing Grace with the passion of a Southern preacher, her voice swelling with gospel intensity. It stood separately from the rest of the set, as a powerful and reflective moment. Jones has always straddled the sacred and profane; here, she blurred them entirely. Then it was time for 'Love is The Drug', 'Pull Up To The Bumper' and lastly, 'Slave To The Rhythm'. These were not unexpected choices — in fact, they were exactly what this now joyous and enthralled audience needed to hear from Jones. We needed her affirming power as she hoola-hooped through her last song, slaves to the unique rhythm and idiosyncratic power that only Jones can stand for. She has become a symbol for art, power, queerness, sex and joy, making her an artist with a legacy that is almost incomparable. It is no wonder then, that as guests left the forecourt, they were radiant, still dancing into the night, and elated by an experience that was both intimate and universal.
