Reviews of Tom's Music, What's New, Pussycat?
Here’s where all the critical reviews of Tom’s music — the new stuff and, if we can find any — older recordings.
Why Tom Jones (And Others) Are Probably Smart Not To Read Reviews; Then, Something For A Laugh
Friday, November 28th, 2008Please don’t forget to add your review to tji.com. Just click the link at right.
Sir Tom is one of many entertainers who has said quite often that he doesn’t read reviews — even positive ones. Every day these people and their work are on trial. Even when the rewards are great, it must be difficult to ignore the flack.
Below are two reviews from highly thought of newspapers that are really nasty and make Tom’s decision clear. The first is from The Guardian the second — which quotes the first and copies the “gargle” metaphor — is from The New York Times. It ran in the New York edition only on November 24. One would expect more from the USA’s “Newspaper of Record.” It’s really okay to dislike something — even to deeply dislike something — but this kind of attack is odd, as is the idea of quoting other people’s reviews. Yet, his remark about British media is probably true and, sadly, I, for one, cannot disagree with them about The Road, though it might have been stated more elegantly.
Then, to lighten the mood, Nancy reminded us of something funny in a review. Check out the headline in The River Cities Reader, in Davenport, Iowa. It’s under the Times review below. Good for a laugh — and probably for Leno’s “headlines” segment.
Pop review: Tom Jones, 24 Hours (EMI)
2 Stars out of 5
Jude Rogers/guardian.co.uk/November 14, 2008
What’s that sound, rising from the deep like the devil’s colon gargling into life? Why, it’s Tom Jones. “I’m aliiiive,” he roars as his 28th album begins, and this time, for the first time, he has helped to write and choose the songs, too. They include brassy belters of the style that Mark Ronson has brought back into fashion, ugly stabs at funk and a cover of Bruce Springsteen’s boxing classic, The Hitter, that is more Joe the Plumber than Joe Calzaghe. The ballads, however, offer richer pickings. The Road is an apology for Jones’ extramarital adventures, which overcomes a line of defence (“what matters is here and now”) that merits a saucepan to the temple, and 24 Hours is an effective piece of Johnny Cash-lite about a man on death row. The final breaths of this character may close the album, but Jones’s belly-deep bellow abides.
TOM JONES/24 Hours/(S-Curve)
THE NEW YORK TIMES/Published: November 23, 2008
Tom Jones’s patented idea of macho camp was complex enough in the 1960s. But on “24 Hours” — his first album of new material in 15 years, though far from his first comeback — his performance goes further into the sincere-insincere hall of mirrors, a game of flamboyant posing that feeds on the love and outrage of the British media. This time it’s wrapped in imitation–antique R&B kitsch, with spun-sugar violins, horns, wah-wah guitars, chattering high-hat cymbals. His production team, Future Cut, has trained its focus on two targets, 40 years apart: Amy Winehouse fans and anyone fond of Mr. Jones’s 1960s big-beat pop origins.
Some of the songs’ conceits were excellently counterblocked by British critics when they got their turn with the album a week ago. “Sugar Daddy,” written by Mr. Jones with U2’s Bono, is a frisky manifesto: Forget my age (68), feel my chest hair. “I got male intuition/I got sexual ambition,” he bellows. “I’m the last great tradition/let me state my position.” (“The effect is as immediate as swallowing a bad oyster,” declared Pete Paphides in The Times of London. He has a point.) In The Road Mr. Jones attempts dubious sensitivity, mollifying a cheated-on wife by insisting “what matters is here and now” (a line that “merits a saucepan to the temple,” Jude Rogers of The Guardian wrote).
But by the halfway mark the album steadies itself. Claiming grown-up, thinking-man singer-songwriter territory (why not?), Mr. Jones sings some serious, unrepentant hard-guy narratives. He performs a version of Bruce Springsteen’s Hitter, redone in Southern soul, and a mysterious new song, 24 Hours — a more morbid My Way — seems to come from the perspective of a life-sentence inmate. Throughout, Mr. Jones overdoes it of course. He can even make death musings banal. But his voice remains built for excess: it’s a great gargly instrument, heaving and overwrought as ever. BEN RATLIFF
And here’s that November 27 headline (sitting atop a rave review) that should make any man proud:
November 28th, 2008 at 9:45 am
I understand very well Tom not reading his reviews. Who cares what someone in a newspaper thinks about Tom and his songs. He’s been so popular now for so many years all the people who love him and go to his shows can’t be wrong. Let the “old grumblers” the ones who’ve written these reviews write what they want if that makes them happy. Tom really doesn’t need publicity “bad” or “good”. We all know what a wonderful man and performer he is. (That’s it I’ve said my bit).
Anyhow I think the new CD is great and I hope very much to see Tom here in France in concert before toooooooo long. Love to all
November 28th, 2008 at 9:57 am
There are no statues of critics.
November 28th, 2008 at 11:33 am
Excellent point, Dave. But as a critic myself, I’m ever-hopeful that can change.