Four decades after her first Melbourne appearance, Grace Jones returned to St Kilda with a rain-soaked, triumphant performance that reaffirmed her status as one of modern music’s most formidable live artists. Grace Jones commanded the Palais Foreshore with authority, humour and an undiminished voice.
by Paul Cashmere
The first time Grace Jones played St Kilda’s Palais Theatre it was 1982. On Monday night, 44 years later, she was back on the same patch of coastal Melbourne, this time outdoors in the Palais Theatre carpark as part of the Palace Foreshore concert series. The temporary stage stood adjacent to the grand old theatre where The Rolling Stones played their first Melbourne show in 1965, a reminder that this corner of St Kilda remains hallowed ground for touring royalty.
Jones’ appearance formed part of the week-long Palace Foreshore events on the site of the former Palace venue, destroyed by fire on 11 July 2007. The mystery surrounding the blaze lingers in local music folklore, adding an extra layer of poignancy to concerts staged in its shadow.
Unlike last Friday’s De La Soul event, which enjoyed clear skies, Melbourne delivered persistent rain throughout Monday. The weather threatened proceedings from the outset. The scheduled 8pm start was pushed back while crew checked and mopped the stage area, with many in the audience bracing for a cancellation announcement that never came. At 8.35pm, 35 minutes past the advertised time, Grace Jones strode onstage and immediately seized control of the elements.
From the opening bars of Nightclubbing, Jones established the tone for a performance built around the imperial run of albums that defined her early 1980s ascent, Warm Leatherette in 1980, Nightclubbing in 1981, Living My Life in 1982 and Slave To The Rhythm in 1985. Those records reshaped the intersection of reggae, new wave, disco and art pop, produced in collaboration with Sly and Robbie and the Compass Point All Stars in the Bahamas. The songs remain structurally lean, rhythmically taut and theatrically elastic, a perfect platform for Jones’ presence.
Private Life and Warm Leatherette retained their stripped-back menace, while My Jamaican Guy and I’ve Seen That Face Before (Libertango) underscored the European cabaret sensibility that has always distinguished her catalogue. Pull Up To The Bumper drew one of the night’s biggest responses, its bassline cutting through the damp air with clarity. Love Is The Drug, her Bryan Ferry cover from Warm Leatherette, reaffirmed Jones’ gift for inhabiting and transforming material.
At 78, Jones’ voice remains strong and centred. There was no reliance on backing tapes or studio trickery. The band played live with precision, the backing vocalists were integral to the arrangements, and even the costume changes unfolded in full view onstage. These transitions became performance pieces in their own right, offering Jones the opportunity to engage in improvised banter that frequently tipped into sharp, self-aware comedy.
Between songs, she alternated between diva theatrics and stand-up timing, demanding to be carried up and down the stairs and requesting her “communion” wine, reminding the crowd that a church requires communion. Her humour was delivered with control and intent. Jones has always understood that performance is architecture, each gesture and aside reinforcing the larger structure.
The set also reached forward to Hurricane from 2008, with This Is and Williams’ Blood adding autobiographical depth. The latter, with its gospel roots and references to her Jamaican upbringing, carried particular resonance in the wet Melbourne night. Amazing Grace provided a spiritual interlude, linking the theatrical to the sacred.
Jones’ cultural impact extends well beyond music. Her role as May Day in the 1985 James Bond film A View To A Kill positioned her as a global screen presence at the height of her fame. In that period she was among the most recognisable figures in popular culture, a fashion icon and performance artist whose image was as influential as her sound.
What Monday night demonstrated is that the image and the artist remain inseparable. The angular poses, the command of space, the sense of ceremony, all are intact. Yet there was also warmth and gratitude. Jones hinted she would welcome a return to Australia, even floating the idea of an Australian Open appearance. After this performance, the proposition does not seem far-fetched.
In challenging conditions, Grace Jones delivered a show defined by discipline, authenticity and theatre. Melbourne witnessed not a nostalgia act but a living artist continuing to inhabit her catalogue with conviction.
Grace Jones Melbourne 2 March 2026 photo by Winston Robinson
Grace Jones setlist, St Kilda, 2 March 2026
Nightclubbing (from Nightclubbing, 1981)
This Is (from Hurricane, 2008)
Private Life (from Warm Leatherette, 1980)
Warm Leatherette (from Warm Leatherette, 1980)
My Jamaican Guy (from Living My Life, 1982)
I’ve Seen That Face Before (Libertango) (from Nightclubbing, 1981)
Williams’ Blood (from Hurricane, 2008)
Amazing Grace
Love Is the Drug (from Warm Leatherette, 1980)
Pull Up to the Bumper (from Nightclubbing, 1981)
Slave to the Rhythm (from Slave To The Rhythm, 1985)
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