grace jones: hurricane

The name Grace Jones instantly conjures a few key associations: elaborately wild outfits; slapping TV presenters; “a bit mental”; “wasn’t she in a Bond film once?”; and, somewhere down the list, oh yeah, awesome, era-defining pop classics like ‘Slave To The Rhythm’ and ‘Pull Up To The Bumper’. For those who don’t know or are too young to know, Grace Jones was, once upon a time, very important indeed. One of the first genuine supermodels and occasional muse to the likes of Andy Warhol, she turned her back on Paris and Milan’s haute couture lifestyle toward the end of the 1970s to become one the first true crossover pop stars, producing three unashamedly camp disco albums and establishing herself as a disco, gay and style icon in barely three years.

By 1980, the disco backlash was in full swing thanks to the punk rebellion going on across town from Studio 54 at CBGBs and the emerging hip hop scene in Brooklyn. Disco couldn’t be less cool by this time, meaning Jones had to do something drastic to keep momentum going. By drawing from her Jamaican roots and seeking out the New Wave scene’s hottest production talent, she relocated recording to the Bahamas and eventually emerged in 1980 with the groundbreaking, edgy Warm Leatherette, a bewildering set of eight dub and reggae influenced spoken word covers of the likes of The Pretenders and Iggy Pop.

Collaborations with groundbreaking teams like Sly & Robbie and various flirtations with dancehall and experimental art-pop kept the ball rolling for the next few albums, culminating in 1985’s conceptual, iconic Slave To The Rhythm. After that, the ego had landed and Jones spread herself thinly in various ill-advised acting roles (’Conan The Barbarian’, ‘A View To A Kill’), which combined with her famous TV outbursts and outrageous red carpet outfits, threatened to sideline her hard-won musical reputation. Two more albums in the late ’80s failed to convince that her attention was still on pop music, barely mustering three notable tracks between them and cobbling together more of the era’s production clichés than you could shake a stick at. For the first time it felt like Jones wasn’t even trying.

Since then, silence. Almost. Various forgettable soundtrack appearances (’Toys’, anyone?) and European dance remixes aside, Jones has spent the last 19 years staring down the ignominy of becoming a has been. There’s more to the hiatus that meets the eye though. She hasn’t spent the last two decades running her Issey Miyakes to the dry cleaners. Disputes with record labels and two shelved albums kept her busy throughout the ’90s but by the turn of the new millennium and seemingly no one brave enough to give her a home, Jones threatened retirement.

Little is known about the shelved albums other than a track entitled ‘Hurricane (Cradle To The Grave)’, said to be a collaboration with Tricky, leaking back in 1996. Whether through dispute or creative licence, these fabled albums have clearly helped to form the ingredients of today’s Hurricane, released on tiny indie label Wall Of Sound, apparently the only people brave enough to take Jones on board. It seems they and Grace may well be having the last laugh yet for her long absence, a blessing in disguise, has fuelled the hype of the “Grace Jones comeback” to epic, Kate Bush/Portishead proportions.

Lead single ‘Corporate Cannibal’ was quietly slipped onto YouTube in July and left to fester and for fans to discover themselves. The eerie video of Jones melting and morphing like a monochrome Dali perfectly captured the song’s dark, industrial rock-tinged trip hop, sort of Massive Attack meets Skunk Anansie. Cooing “I deal in the market / every man, woman and child is a target,” it heralded her stance on her new-found independence from the industry politicos and suited her well. Four months later, Hurricane Grace has finally blown in and, as ever, she certainly knows how to make an entrance. First track “This Is…’ throws down the gauntlet (”This is my voice / my weapon of choice!”) before an infectious dub-tinged reggae skank starts to churn with lightning beats and neat production twists giving the song a genuine edge.

Rightly so, for at only nine tracks long, Hurricane has no room for filler or the sloppy, half-baked Grace-isms that mauled her late ’80s output. To maintain quality control, Brian Eno and reunions with Sly & Robbie and Tricky (presumably to finish what he started twelve years ago) were drafted in, but Hurricane’s most surprising aspect is the intensely personal lyrics and ideas Jones brought to the table. ‘William’s Blood’ is a terrifically epic, proud homage to her family tree (co-written with Wendy & Lisa) with rousing lyrics and a gospel-soaked defiant war cry that briefly transitions into nothing short of ‘Amazing Grace’ (seriously!), with Grace’s mother audible in the background singing the famous hymn in church. Equally personal is ‘I’m Crying (Mother’s Tears)’, which delicately reflects on her own feelings on motherhood through her strict Christian upbringing.

‘Corporate Cannibal’ may be the most radical change in direction for Jones, but the slick production maintains the impression of an effortless flow from the album’s start to finish. Only the title track ventures into such dark territory again, with Grace bellowing about ripping up trees as Tricky growls in the background over a deep, sparse but oh so sexy bassline worthy of any Jamaican dancehall. Elsewhere, ’Well, Well, Well’ chugs along with bass-heavy dub and warm synth buzzes providing an unmistakably modern and very satisfying twist on ‘Private Life’ from Warm Leatherette.

From there, the album’s final third threatens to stall but never actually dips to anything less than exciting. ‘Love You To Life’ and ‘Sunset Sunrise’ (written with her son Paulo Goude) are two equally warm and sincere reggae-fuelled numbers that acknowledge where Jones’s strengths lie and maximise them, while the filmic, brooding closer ‘Devil In My Life’ is a crunchy, throbbing beast laden with enough panoramic strings to make David Arnold want to kick himself for not having written it ten years ago. That it’s perhaps the album’s least memorable moment only reminds you how impressive everything else is.

The dreaded spectre of comeback hype has undone many an artist but Jones meets 19 years worth of anticipation with absolute style, balls and an unflinching determination to only look back when taking leaps forward (are you taking notes, Axl Rose?). Hurricane is one of this year’s highlights, not only because it reinvigorates a sixty year old woman’s dated formula to the point of establishing her as one of the most competent artists of both her and our generation, but also for giving the public back a “Grace Jones” who’s not an “Amy Winehouse”: someone who can slap you in the face an demand like no diva has ever demanded before, but looks absolutely fabulous while doing it and actually remembering to back it up with talent now and again. Go on then, for old times’ sake: “Ladies and gentlemen…HERE’S GRACE!”

[Wall Of Sound; November 3, 2008]

Written by: Leigh Bartlam

Tags: grace jones, hurricane

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 5th, 2008 at 7:18 pm and is filed under albums & EPs, reviews. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.