Friday the thirteenth. Grace Jones is doing a show at the Fox Theater. I’m at the Pleasant Peasant, eating alone, stoned and feeling great. Drinking Bloody Marys like there’s no tomorrow. And then walking down Peachtree Street to the Fox for the show. She is wild. She is an artist. Great set. She opens the show singing “Nightclubbing” in an ape suit with a gold tutu! And those red Japanese hats and those spike heels and those cheekbones.
She ain’t singin’.
She’s is reciting her shit like a poet.
She can’t sing.
She got no voice.
She got nerve.