Wednesday, March 03, 2004
I'll tell you what I love about Grace Jones. I love her intense, sinister beauty. Exotic is not a word I use because it somehow demeans and distances the subject. But there is something quite extraordinarily different about her looks. And she clearly has one of the finest bodies ever to be publically displayed without shame. She's more comfortable with herself than anyone else I can think of. I love the way she sings. She delivers a song completely unlike other singers, and she's made quite radical transformations of otherwise regular sounding standards. She simply doesn't have the approach most musicians have to their music. She can swing and sing funk without ever sounding contrived. I love her brazen sexiness and overbearing sense of delight and scandal at the world. She's one of the last true icons. But most of all I love the fact that for the whole of the early 80's, every man in France wanted to fuck her. Imagine that! Every Frenchman has you at the top of his list and there's so little he can do about it because it's not up to him. She epitomised French a la mode fuckabilite in the 80's and I fucking love her for it. Please, place your hand upon your fuckstick or your lovecunt and come, celebrate with me the power, the flower, the shower, the story, the glory and the gory that is Grace Jones
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