Grace Jones
Obelisk Arena
Saturday, 21.30

Nothing can compare to the wonder, the brilliance, the sex, the madness, the humour, the awareness, the deviance, the intelligence, the spectacle, the grace of Miss Grace Jones. Even before she's appeared onstage we hear her asking "can we make the smoke blow around a bit more?" She then descends on a hydraulic platform sporting one of a selection of ludicrous hats - an ice cream cone, a herbivore dinosaur's defensive crest. She disappears between songs for costume changes, leaving the microphone on: "I just want something to suck on" "I am very thirsty" "Portaloo sunset" "Have you ever had anyone die in your arms? It's fucking weird", and so on. And of course, we're treated to a rundown of the hits that emphasise why it's so wonderful that she's back - and, as was the case with the Pet Shop Boys yesterday, newer material like ‘Williams Blood' is as slinky as the unimpeachable ‘Slave To The Rhythm', and so on. She's the consummate, performer, hula hooping as she does the introducing the band segment. "You're the best fucking crowd we've had all tour," she tells us. "MOTHERFUCKER!" And with that, she hulas off, improbably fantastic buttocks still bare, proud and trembling, into the darkness. The pleasure was all ours, Miss Grace, mother, fucker.
Next: Thom Yorke