Last night Darren, Mark, Stu and I went to see the star that is Grace Jones burn brightly at the Roundhouse in London's salubrious Chalk Farm. She was magnificent.
The usual twenty-five minutes late, she descended to the stage on a large extensible platform. Bathed in a deep shade of blue the audience gave her a rapturous reception. She then belted out Nightclubbing and the place went wild.
Over the next hour and forty minutes she plundered her back catalog, her new album Hurricane (oddly with the exception of Corporate Cannibal) and our hearts. Every song welcomed a change of lighting, a change of costume and a change of Philip Treacy. It was a bit like a West End show where, "tonight the role of the diva will be played by Miss Grace Jones."
She was exceptionally well behaved too. No tantrums. Although towards the end she was perhaps tiring a bit and rather muddled the words to La Vie En Rose. Still we can forgive here that. She was a star the whole night through. A brilliant star. A brilliant show.
Best bit: The encore. She sang the title track of her new album Hurricane across the stage into a hurricane fan with full-on special effects, lighting, debris and flowing costume blown horizontal by the wind. Marvellous.