Tom Jones International

The reviews keep pouring in, including the third one here in which the reviewer speaks of the crowd’s “collective post-coital glow.” There’s also another review of Tom at the Manchester Evening News (M.E.N.) arena from, naturally enough, the Manchester Evening News. Not as professional as the Glenn Mead one, but still nice. Here, too, are more photos, the one on top from this review; the one below from a short review (below) of Tom’s Birmingham show.

Sir Tom Jones @ M.E.N. Arena




by Emma Unsworth/Manchester Evening News/October 16, 2006




*** (Out of 5)

FROM the moment Sir Tom Jones bounded onstage, trademark medallion glinting, he had the crowd in the palm of his huge, hairy hand.

But, despite classic numbers occasionally cranking up the atmosphere, audience interaction wasn’t high on the agenda for the evening.

“We’re gonna be doing some new songs,” he roared to subdued cries, “and then some old ones” to deafening approval from the assembled thousands. After this, there was a notable lack of patter.

While several decades within the industry mean that plenty of the hits speak for themselves, the newer songs fell on a tangibly-detatched audience.

Teenage girls dancing to each other in the aisles somehow made the concert feel more like an ironic DJ set rather than a live show by an iconic artist.




Eclecticism

If there’s one thing Tom Jones deserves full credit for, however, it’s sheer eclecticism.

Bluegrass, boogie woogie, and sixites pop all featured in the set-list, with well-received nods to previous collabourators Jerry Lee Lewis, The Stereophonics and Van Morrison (Tom revealed he has sung a duet with Van on The Man’s latest album).

There was also value for money as the tempo, and a star curtain dropped half way through the show for a series of `standards’, including Fly Me To The Moon and That Old Black Magic.

New single, Stoned In Love, came between She’s A Lady and If I Only Knew — by which point the whole arena was on its feet in time for a tear-jerking, arm-waving rendition of The Green Green Grass Of Home followed by dance floor favourites, What’s New Pussycat?, You Can Leave Your Hat On, Sex Bomb and It’s Not Unusual.

At encore-time, we bellowed for more, and Tom answered with a stonking version of I Like The Way You Move and, making full use of the brass section in his tour band, Kiss. ‘I Know How To Undress Me,” he sang, lifting his spangley shirt to an electrified, finally engaged crowd.

But, as my mother, who accompanied me on the evening, once warned me: the type of man you throw your knickers at is never really going to be engagement material.

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And here’s what looks like a reader review from Tom’s Birmingham appearance. It’s from the expressandstar.com in Wolverhampton. It was posted October 16 and is unsigned.




Tom Jones rocks the NEC
Legendary singer Tom Jones had his mostly female audience in a real spin when he wowed adoring fans at Birmingham NEC.




Dozens of women of all ages hurled the obligatory knickers on stage during a raunchy Saturday night show.
Everything expected from a classic Tom Jones gig was there including hits to delight generations.




From What’s New Pussycat? to You Can Keep Your Hat On — a cue for the smalls to really start flying — it was a stunning perfomance by one of the music business’s real pros.




She’s a Lady, Green Green Grass of Home, Help Yourself, It’s Not Unusual and Delilah made up some of the rest of the near two-hour set.




And there were a few unexpected treats as well including an inspired cover of Bodyrockers’ I Like The Way You Move, a perfect pop song for the raunchy Welshman.




But with Tom Jones it’s about so much more than the music — and he did not disappoint.




His trademark hip swivels and gyrations were a reminder that they just don’t make pop or rock stars quite like him anymore.

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From The Times Online:




Tom Jones




Stephen Dalton at MEN Arena, Manchester/October 17, 2006




**** (out of 5)




Thousands of desperate housewives converged on Manchester to witness Tom Jones kick off his latest UK tour. So did their daughters, husbands, boyfriends and grandchildren. At 66, the newly knighted singer remains a formidable force of nature, with an appeal that spans as many generations as his undimmed vocal prowess.

A commanding stage presence in bespoke blue suit and bright orange face, Pontypridd’s answer to Pavarotti did not disappoint. Half bullfighter and half bulldozer, Jones may represent the preposterous pinnacle of ultra-butch heterosexual camp, but he is a million miles away from kitsch. However overblown, camp is always sincere. And Jones the Voice invariably means it. Even the sheen of postmodern mockery that he acquired in the 1980s has eroded. His chest-thumping version of Prince’s Kiss, once tinged with irony, now sits comfortably alongside his raunchy manhandling of Otis Redding’s Trick or Treat.

As the audience leapt to their feet for the flame-grilled melodrama of Delilah, just four songs into the set, the first pair of knickers sailed across the auditorium. But Jones did not milk these rituals, wisely spacing his best-loved tunes throughout the show. Whether skipping across the stage to the demented fairground psychedelia of What’s New Pussycat? or tossing off a nimble It’s Not Unusual, he wore his greatest hits lightly.

Indeed, he maintained a smart balance between old and new, obscure and obvious, throughout. Equal emphasis was put on guaranteed crowd-pleasers as on personal favourites. Jones has always selected material with surprisingly catholic tastes, but that volcanic voice made each tune his own.

The stage production was elegantly spare for such a large venue. Jones demonstrated his impressive range, interspersing R&B belters with antique blues numbers and jazzy standards. He struck only the occasional jarring note, bellowing flatly through a clumsy approximation of his recent Top Ten disco hit, Stoned in Love. Two hours and 20-plus tunes later, Jones left the stage as energised as he arrived. Outside, the city streets seethed with satisfied customers, united in collective post-coital glow.