Grace Jones – Electric Paradise Festival Milton Keynes National Bowl – 8th August 2026

Grace Jones – Electric Paradise Festival

Milton Keynes National Bowl – 8th August 2026

Review by Robert Corich

There are performers who arrive on stage to sing their songs, there are performers who put on a show, and then there is Grace Jones — an artist who has spent a lifetime redefining what the word performance actually means.

By the time Grace finally appeared at Electric Paradise, the festival had already delivered enough disco, funk, soul and reggae to keep most audiences happy. But Grace Jones was never going to be merely another act on the bill. She was the reason the stage suddenly seemed to belong to somebody else entirely.

Opening with Nightclubbing, the Iggy Pop classic that she has long since made unmistakably her own, Grace immediately established the territory. Dark, imposing and deliciously theatrical, it was followed by This Is, Private Life and Demolition Man — the latter bringing that familiar Grace Jones ability to turn somebody else’s song into something that sounds as though it was written specifically for her.

Then came My Jamaican Guy, before the hypnotic I’ve Seen That Face Before (Libertango). The performance was as much visual theatre as concert, with Grace appearing in an extraordinary succession of outfits and headpieces. Each costume change became part of the performance rather than an interruption to it, while Grace remained completely in control, even when temporarily disappearing backstage.

At one point Grace was out of camera view, clearly changing her outfit — again — leaving the audience wondering quite what she was going to emerge wearing next. Then came her wonderfully irreverent announcement that she had just “had a big fattie.” Cue plenty of laughter from an audience who were clearly in on the joke. It was vintage Grace — cheeky, provocative and delivered with the sort of confidence that says this is a woman who knows she still has what it takes, and is having an absolute ball proving it.

And that confidence runs through everything she does. Grace’s own comments are irreverent, mischievous, occasionally laden with double entendre and, yes, still sexy. There is something wonderfully refreshing about a woman who has no intention of becoming some sanitised version of herself. She remains entirely comfortable in her own skin — and entirely capable of making an audience feel that they are privileged to be sharing the moment with her.

Williams’ Blood brought a more personal and emotional Grace to the stage, while Amazing Grace provided one of those beautifully unexpected moments when the outrageous diva gives way to something altogether more vulnerable.

Then came the intriguing moment for those of us interested in what might come next.

“The Key” — the new song — slipped into the set like a tantalising glimpse through a half-open door. Over the years Grace has occasionally introduced previously unrecorded songs into her live performances, so perhaps this is another little taste of what she has been keeping up her sleeve. And if that’s the case, surely it is high time this hugely talented and gloriously individual artist made her fans very happy by producing another album.

Or four…

Because Grace Jones clearly isn’t finished yet.

The set itself was an absolutely magnificent collection, although I have to admit to one small disappointment: the omission of what I would regard as probably Grace’s finest track of them all, Walking in the Rain. Still, perhaps she deliberately left it out. After all, this was high summer, and with My Jamaican Guy keeping the Jamaican spirit of Grace’s homeland firmly in the air, perhaps there was little need for a shower.

Then came Love Is the Drug, Grace once again proving that her interpretation of the Roxy Music classic has become every bit as much hers as Bryan Ferry’s.

And then, inevitably, Pull Up to the Bumper.

The festival audience went appropriately bananas as Grace took the performance beyond the confines of the stage, even venturing into the crowd on the back of her security guard. At this point it was becoming increasingly difficult to determine whether we were watching a concert, a piece of performance art or simply Grace Jones doing whatever the hell Grace Jones wanted to do.

Probably all three.

Finally came Slave to the Rhythm. The title could hardly have been more appropriate, although it is difficult to imagine Grace Jones being enslaved to anything other than her own rhythm. The song provided the perfect finale to a set that had been stylish, eccentric, funky, theatrical and, above all, unmistakably Grace.

And as those final notes disappeared into the Milton Keynes night, fireworks exploded above the stage.

A fittingly spectacular ending for a woman who has never really subscribed to the idea of doing anything quietly.

Grace Jones doesn’t simply perform her songs.

She inhabits them.

And after all these years, she remains one of the most gloriously unpredictable characters to have ever stepped onto a stage.

Grace, if your listening… please give us all another long player to spin.