Live Review: Grace Jones @ Primavera Sound

Sometimes an artist is so bloody special that you must forgo a few other acts in favour of a primo vantage point. Grace Jones lands firmly in this category. She's a star. We even suspect she's not human. And fabulosity abounds. 

 

So while Metronomy play on the adjacent Mango stage, we set up in the second row below Heineken stage's left screen. Added bonus, we're on an incline so have the greatest view from here. Actual advertisements grace Primavera Sound's giant screens although there's thankfully no accompanying sound. Most of these advertisements feature ridiculously skilled dancers. Metronomy finish (The Look is still their best song by far and we really wanna be drummer/vocalist Anna Prior's bestie — she's got such a joyous energy!). Yikes! It's nearly time for the Jamaican-born goddess and we're perfectly situated! 

 

An elevated platform is placed upstage with a couple of bars forming a safety barrier at the front. The stage lights finally dim. There's a deafening roar. Ms Jones travels up onto the rostra concealed behind a banner featuring her own fierce face (of course!). She opens with Nightclubbing and we're all smiles ogling her suitably outlandish outfit. Is it a unitard or body paint? She prowls around to the song's sinister, slow-mo tempo wearing a black cloak and gold mask with endless, elongated rows of gnarly teeth. A headdress utilising long, black plumes further accentuates her majestic stature. Jones is the original queen and her intimidating nature delights. 

 

She leaves the stage for a costume change after just one song (nearly every song is punctuated by at least a change of accessories) while greeting us through her mic "Ola, ola, ola!" A neighbour in the crowd is gobsmacked, "WOW!" Which pretty much sums up how we all feel in Jones's presence. Then out she stalks in a waist-length metallic mane and horse's tail for Private Life. Via these subtle costume changes, Jones embodies a different persona for each song. She's laidback, oh-so sexual, predatory and not of this realm. We can now see she's completely body painted, nipples freed wearing just a G-string corset/leotard, towering heels and some neon anklets. A pair of backing vocalists sway in swathes of fabric; one dressed in red, the other navy. Jones's band smoulders, every note recreated to perfection. The atmosphere created by I've Seen That Face Before (Libertango) is pure Parisienne chic as Jones transports us to "rainy nights on Haussmann Boulevard". That accordion solo! "Dance/In bars and restaurants/Home/With anyone who wants" — then Jones caresses our eardrums by speaking French. We surrender! 

 

Jones picks her hoop skirt up and incorporates a little flamenco flavour into her dancing. Then a portable pole-dancing station materialises. A perfectly formed male dancer with the tightest buns we've ever clapped eyes on works the pole and we admire him from every angle. Mid-offstage costume change, Jones cheekily announces into her mic, "Just having a coke... I've been in Jamaica too long, too much ganja now I need some coke!" And it's the perfect segue from, "Talkin' about Jamaica," into My Jamaican Guy. We smell ganja. Jones drapes her impossibly long legs over the platform railings. How is she 69 years of age? 

 

While trying to squeeze into yet another outfit sidestage, Jones jokes, "I ate too much today". You'd think this show would be disjointed with all the ons and offs, but her hilarious banter maintains flow. "I have a new track," Jones announces. "I haven't sung it yet in Spain and you can't buy it. I sing it live and that's it, so it's kinda special. It's about me growing up in Jamaica." Jones casually whips her pole dancer with what appears to be her horse's tail from earlier while he forms astounding shapes demanding freaky flexibility. When she nearly trips over something on the stage, Jones scowls at the object/uneven surface then whips it with her prop. She then takes us to church, arriving on stage in what she describes as her "church clothes" (a tad more covered in tulle skirt and veil). The excellent Williams' Blood follows with its minimal arrangement allowing Jones's voice to soar before it all culminates in a jubilant cacophony. An enthusiastic reveller nearby apologises for going hard (no need!) before going on to explain, "She was my first wank as a lesbian". 

 

We're completely floored when Jones launches into Amazing Grace - amen. For Love Is The Drug Jones sports a mirrorball bowler hat that catches various focused lights in individual colours. It's an incandescent rave version of the song and Jones demands we join in on the, "OH-oh!"s, claiming, "I can't hear you!" That silky white horse headdress Jones sports is a work of art. She drinks some wine delivered to her by a female assistant who Jones then pats on the arse by way of thanks as said assistant turns to leave the stage. Ms Jones, you are incorrigible! The skittish beats of Pull Up To The Bumper demand that we get our dance on as Jones is given a shoulder ride through the photography pit to reach out and touch her adoring fans in the front rows. Our oversharer from earlier surges forward to ensure she touches Jones's hand before offering a high-five to pay it forward. 

 

After pointing out she has Beyonce fans "blowing her" up on stage, Jones teases, "I feel like all of you are blowing me right now!" For the entire duration of Slave To The Rhythm, Jones effortlessly gyrates a hula hoop, even walking downstairs while doing so. All audience mouths are agape. Jones is absolutely extraordinary. Confetti cannons detonate, multi-coloured ticker tape rains down on us and then after a few "merci"s Jones glides away back to her mysterious existence. 

 

A punter phoning a friend post-show confirms our extreme enthusiasm: "We just saw Grace Jones. It was the most incredible thing of my life."