Tom Jones International

I will admit it. When it comes to press I am picky. From reading the article below, I’d guess — and I may be wrong — that the writer didn’t interview Sir Tom. Rather, it seems as if he picked quotes that were already published and retold many anecdotes. If that’s what he did, then he did an OK job, although there is stuff I’d rather had been omitted. These days, does anyone care about rehashing personal stuff? I think Tiger Woods was, finally, the straw that broke that camel’s back. Fact checking, too, was a bit lax. When did Tom sell “Dean Martin’s house” to Nicolas Cage? A decade ago? But, It is nice to see something in-depth that takes Sir Tom seriously and doesn’t make fun of Las Vegas. And, in 2005, two people I know very well had a conversation with Sir Tom about his favorite singers and the best voices around. Favorite? He said, as you might expect, Jerry Lee. Best voice? His own. And on that count his is 1,000 percent correct, isn’t he?

I can’t think of anyone around who sings better than me’ Welsh crooner Tom Jones on his latest comeback

By Jon Wilde / Daily Mail / Last updated at 10:04 PM on 28th August 2010

To experience the full force of Tom Jones’s voice, try sitting two feet away from him as he belts out the chorus to It’s Not Unusual. Tom Jones sings like other people breathe. He just can’t help himself. Mention any of his 38 Top 40 hits and he’ll generously treat you to a few bars. And, when he sings, there are no half measures – he gives it everything he’s got.

The Welsh rock star Cerys Matthews got it just about right when she said that hearing Tom sing up close was like standing in a tunnel with an express train speeding towards you. Not for nothing is he universally known as Jones The Voice.

‘I’m sure I’ve been singing from the moment I sprang out of my mother’s womb,’ he says. ‘The second I’m out of bed I’ll start singing, usually some old country song. I sing in the shower. I sing in the car. I never bloody stop.’


Jones recently celebrated his 70th birthday but the power of his voice remains undiminished.

‘Actually,’ he says, ‘I think I’m in better voice now than I ever was.’

To his astonishment, along with everyone else’s, his career continues to hit new peaks. In the past few years, and not for the first time, it was widely assumed that he’d had his day.

Despite reaching No 1 with an all-star charity version of Islands In The Stream in 2009, the hit singles were hard to come by. His new albums were struggling to reach the Top 40 and even his greatest hits compilations were performing badly. After selling 150 million records and earning a fortune of £175 million, Jones’s career seemed to be in terminal decline.

Even his record company seemed to have lost all confidence. Earlier this year, on the eve of the release of Jones’s new album, the pared-down gospel/blues of Praise & Blame, Island Records’ vice president David Sharpe sent an email to colleagues asking whether the record was some kind of sick joke.

‘Pull back this project immediately,’ he demanded, ‘or get my money back.’ The email was leaked and spread like a virus around the world. Jones was furious. But he would have the last laugh as the album was greeted by his most ecstatic reviews in years and shot up the charts to vie for a position at the top with Eminem’s Recovery.

It has proven to be his most successful release since 1999′s Reload. Naturally, he feels vindicated. ‘For a record company executive to condemn an album before anyone has heard it is the most stupid thing ever,’ says Jones.

‘This guy’s objection to it was that the songs weren’t what people would expect from Tom Jones. What exactly would people be expecting from me?

‘I’ve been releasing records for 46 years. I’ve always been into all kinds of music. Growing up, gospel music was as important to me as rock ‘n’ roll. Religion was important in those days in terms of the local community. Every Sunday I’d go to the Presbyterian chapel.

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‘I can still hear the heavy organ sound that greeted me when I walked in. It used to put the fear of God in me. Wherever I went there’d be religious songs. I’d hear gospel standards like The Old Rugged Cross at funerals and parties.

I wanted some of that flavour on my latest album. Some people have responded to the album as though I’m a born-again Christian. But I’ve always been a Christian and I’m not going to apologise for that. It’s not all I’m about but it’s a part of me.

‘These songs represent that part. People shouldn’t be surprised I’ve gone down that road. I’ve always been a versatile singer. Except maybe for Elvis, there’s never been a more versatile singer than me and, to be truthful, I can’t think of anyone around who sings better.’

He is not lacking in confidence. That much is evident from the moment he walks into the top-floor suite of one of central London’s hippest boutique hotels. More white than grey, his trademark curly locks have long since given up the fight against ageing.

Nip-and-tuck surgery has ensured that the rest of him could easily pass for middle-aged rather than anything more advanced. Casually dressed in black shirt and designer jeans, he looks as cool as any 70-year-old man could ever hope to be, cooler than any OAP has the right to look. There’s no mistaking the superstar aura around him. But there’s no pomp and swagger.

Casually referencing his close friendship with Elvis and the times he hung out with Sinatra, he never lets you forget that you are in the presence of pop royalty. Yet, as he reflects on his astonishing journey from the villages of the Rhondda Valley to the dazzle of Vegas and beyond, he does so with an air of childlike wonder, as though he still can’t quite believe he was lucky enough to live the life granted to him.

The world knows him as Tom Jones and, make no mistake, he loves every minute of being Tom Jones. But there’s a part of him that will always remain Thomas John Woodward, the son of a Welsh miner, who was born to sing, dreamed of stardom, and almost had it all cruelly snatched away.

If you’re looking for the key to how Jones has managed to bestride the pop world over six decades and yet remain so absurdly down-to-earth, then rewind 57 years. Tom is 13 years old, already certain that his extraordinary voice will bring him fame and fortune, when he contracts tuberculosis and is confined to bed for two years.

‘I was just starting to go through puberty,’ he says, ‘the worst possible time to be stuck in a bed. I wanted to be out there with my mates, chatting up the girls. Life went on outside my bedroom window.

My friends would pass by the window and shout, “Alright Tom!” as they went up the hill to play. I barely had the energy to wave back at them. The worst part of it was that I didn’t even have the strength to sing.

From the window I could see a lamppost at the end of the street. I’d stare at that lamppost for hours and tell myself, “If ever I get well and I’m able to walk as far as that lamppost I’ll never complain about anything as long as I live.”‘

The bout of TB damaged Jones’s lungs and meant that he would not have to follow his father down the mine. Miraculously his illness left his singing abilities intact. After leaving school at 15, he worked as a labourer’s mate by day, and singer at night. His showbiz apprenticeship was served in the unforgiving environments of the local pubs and working men’s clubs.

‘I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t singing. From the age of four I’d be pulling on my mother’s sleeve at weddings, asking when I could get up and do a number. At home I’d tell my mum to pull the drapes open and grandly announce me before I climbed on a table and sang in the living room.

Performing came naturally to me. When I was old enough to sing in the clubs I wasn’t daunted. Those places could be rough as old boots though. If a crowd didn’t like you they’d let you know.

‘Most of the actual violence occurred because some fella would object to the fact that his girlfriend was enjoying my show. Then it would all kick off. I’d see the first bottle coming towards my head and think, “Here we go again.”

In no time at all it would be like something out of a Wild West saloon, chairs and tables flying everywhere. Sometimes there was no escape, so I’d end up in the middle of a massive punch-up. That’s how I broke my nose. Other times I’d leg it out of the back door.

‘On one occasion I was playing a social club in Caerphilly. A big fight started out so I headed for the exit. I saw this raffle prize – an oven-ready turkey sitting on top of a hamper. I thought, “I’ll have that”, and ran out with it under my arm. I was banned from that club for nearly 50 years.’

Jones was a father at 16, getting married just a month before the baby was due. His marriage to Linda Trenchard is something of a showbiz miracle, having endured for 53 years despite Jones’s well-publicised infidelities.

‘People talk about it like it was just notches on the bedpost,’ he says. ‘But I never treated women like groupies. I’ve always been old-fashioned around the opposite sex. Like I’m careful not to swear in front of them. In Wales we eff and blind all the time but not in front of women. I love a dirty joke but I’d never tell one in female company.

‘People are always asking me what makes my marriage work. There’s no great mystery to it. We were kids when we met and we were completely in love. We still love each other and we’ve managed to remain friends too.

‘We enjoy each other’s company. Walking away from Linda would be unthinkable. We go back too far. I was Tommy Woodward to her then, and I still am. If I start giving it too much Tom Jones she’ll remind me who I am.’

Between 1956 and 1964 he plugged away on the Welsh club circuit, supporting his family in a series of jobs including glove-cutter, paper miller and door-to-door vacuum salesman.

‘Those jobs didn’t feel like a blessing while I was doing them. But I’m forever grateful that I did them because they gave me an important grounding. I might have days now when I’m on my way to a photo shoot or a TV interview.

‘I might be suffering from a hangover and I’m really not in the mood for any of it. I’ll pass a building site and see all these fellas carrying bricks up a ladder and remind myself that I’ve got bugger all to moan about.’

Success finally came Jones’s way with 1965′s It’s Not Unusual, and he was more than ready for it. After all, he’d been preparing for it all his life. When it came he accepted it like an entitlement. Few entertainers have taken to fame so naturally. Few have enjoyed their celebrity quite so whole-heartedly and yet so humbly.

‘When I had that first hit record I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. I’d always liked the idea of nice houses, great food, flash cars, posh seats on planes. Now I could afford those things. People would say to me, “Don’t you miss shopping at Woolworths?” Why the hell would I?

‘I enjoyed the fruits of my success when they arrived and I’ve never stopped loving the lifestyle. Not everyone is like that. Robbie Williams was a close neighbour of mine in Los Angeles. When I first met him he asked me, “How do you still do it after all this time?” I said, “Because I bloody love doing it.” And Robbie said, “I wish I did.”

‘He’s had all this amazing success but it doesn’t make him happy. I’m the complete opposite.’ It’s Not Unusual was also a Top Ten hit in the United States. Then the hits came thick and fast: What’s New Pussycat?, Green Green Grass Of Home, I’ll Never Fall In Love Again, Delilah. He toured relentlessly, quickly graduating from small clubs to giant arenas.

In 1967 he performed in Las Vegas for the first time, becoming an instant sensation – in the early Seventies he was reportedly raking in £5 million a year from the Vegas casinos alone. By 1969 he had won a lucrative TV deal for his own American series, This Is Tom Jones. His albums were all bestsellers.

Then, at the dizzying height of his success, he experienced the dark side of celebrity. June 1970 brought the trial of the notorious Manson Family, accused of a series of gruesome murders in Los Angeles.

During the trial it was revealed that the group’s leader, Charles Manson, had drawn up a list of famous names that his followers had been ordered to kill. These included Richard Burton, Elizabeth Taylor, Frank Sinatra and Tom Jones. When the subject is raised, Jones is visibly surprised, admitting that he’s never talked about this episode publicly.

‘But it’s all true. I was definitely on that list. Manson reasoned that if he got his followers to take these people out, he would become more famous and more powerful than they were. He wasn’t thinking straight, obviously. I mean the guy was a complete nutcase. I didn’t worry about the threat too much.

By the time they found the list, these loonies were all safely locked up. If I thought about it at all, I felt flattered I was on the same list as people like Sinatra and Elizabeth Taylor.

‘See, I believe in taking a negative and turning it into a positive. If I’d have taken the threat to heart I’d never have left my house ever again. I didn’t even increase the security around me. I figured that, if it was going to happen, then there’s nothing I could do to prevent it.

‘If someone’s coming for you, they will eventually get you because you’re bound to be alone at some time. I’ve been through periods when I’ve employed big bodyguards and walked around with an entourage. The problem with that approach is that it draws attention to you.

‘That’s something Elvis could never understand. He wouldn’t go anywhere without his entourage. He’d say to me, “Tom, how can you just walk into a restaurant, sit down and have a meal? Because I can’t do it.” I’d say, “Of course you can’t do it, Elvis. You’re walking in there with six other fellas and you’re wearing your big white Vegas suit and your sunglasses.”

‘But he couldn’t do it any other way. He loved being Elvis Presley. He wouldn’t have wanted to go somewhere and not be recognised.’

No one relishes telling a story more than Jones. And he loves nothing more than to talk about his longstanding friendship with Elvis. The two first met in 1965 on the set of Presley’s Paradise Hawaiian Style movie.

To his complete astonishment, Elvis walked towards him and sang Jones’s 1965 hit With These Hands in its entirety. In no time at all, Jones was ushered into Presley’s exclusive inner circle. They would regularly meet up in Las Vegas and even took holidays together.

‘Music was our bond,’ says Jones. ‘We’d always end up singing together. Once Elvis got hold of a song he couldn’t let go of it. He would always want to stay up with me all night and party. One time I’d just come off stage at Caesar’s Palace when Elvis walked into my dressing room.

‘He kept going on about a song he thought I should record. I told him I’d have a quick shower and then we could talk about it. So I’m in the shower washing my hair and I hear this singing. I turn around and Elvis is right there alongside me.

‘When I got out he was standing in the dressing room with his trousers around his ankles but he didn’t seem to have noticed. Very gently I pointed it out to him and he calls for one of his guys. ‘Red, ma pants.’ So Red has to get down on his knees to pull up Elvis’s trousers.

‘I’m thinking, “It doesn’t get any stranger than this.” So I walk into the WC and there on the cistern was Elvis’s Colt 45 automatic. I say to him, “Elvis, you left your gun in the toilet.” And he says, “Thanks Tom, I was wondering where I left that.” When Elvis was around, things were always interesting.

‘I was always encouraging him to move to Wales. He was fascinated with choirs and I’d tell him we had the best choirs in the world. I’d say, “Come to the Rhondda, Elvis, we’ll have a bloody great time.” Sadly it never happened. They’d have loved him in the pubs of Tonypandy.’

Thirty-six years have passed since Jones moved to America to avoid high taxes, buying a Bel Air mansion formerly owned by Dean Martin, where he still lives with his wife. After all that Californian living, his rich Welsh accent remains unchanged. Rumours often surface that he is about to return to live in his homeland and he admits that it’s still a possibility.

‘It’s never left my mind that I might one day come home. When I moved to the US, it wasn’t with the idea of staying there all my life. Between 1974 and 1984 I couldn’t come to Britain at all. If I’d spent a single day here I’d have paid a fortune in tax. Since then I’ve been able to come and go.

‘Whenever I go across the Severn Bridge into Wales I get a bit choked up because that’s where my heart is.
Luckily my home in LA is near a British shop that sells all my home comforts – Heinz Baked Beans, PG Tips and Branston Pickle. My local supermarket even stocks Welsh ale – Felinfoel Double Dragon. Bloody lovely drop that is.

‘There are things I don’t miss about Britain. The politics, for starters. I’m still a British citizen but I haven’t voted in years. When I look at the parties over here now I wonder who I could vote for. It’s not like years ago when there was a difference between Labour and Tory.

‘When I lived here I voted Labour. But they were the party who were clobbering people like me with about 90 per cent tax so I’d have been biting off my nose to spite my face if I’d carried on voting for them.’

When asked if he’s been affected by the recession, he reacts as though it’s the daftest question he’s been asked in a long while.

‘What, me? Nah. It hasn’t touched me at all. Maybe I’m lucky in that people still pay money to come to my shows. Entertainment has a way of surviving during tough times. When times are bad, people need a bit of escapism to cheer themselves up. And my career is on a high once again. So there’s no shortage of takers.’

Not only are his records riding high in the charts again, he remains a formidable live draw. When he performed at the Latitude Festival in July, chaotic scenes ensued, causing the area to be closed and thousands of fans turned away. Suddenly everything is going right for Jones.

So much so that you need to remind yourself that there was a time in the late Seventies and early Eighties when his career was in the doldrums. The hit singles had completely dried up. Indeed, between 1973 and 1986, the Top 30 was entirely resistant to his charms.

Somewhere along the line he became an icon of naff, more famous for his chest hair and the knickers that were thrown at his shows than for his music. Then he returned to the charts in 1987 with A Boy From Nowhere and cemented his comeback the following year with his version of Prince’s Kiss.

There followed a long run of success, climaxing in 1999 with the Reload album, a set of collaborations with stars such as Robbie Williams and Van Morrison. The latest comeback is huge testament to his astonishing resilience and powers of recovery.

‘If there’s a secret to my longevity it’s that I’ve always looked after my talent. I see it as a God-given thing and I’ve always taken care of it. Sure, I’ve always enjoyed a drink. But I’ve never been the kind of fella who drinks in order to reach a state of oblivion.

‘Drugs, I’ve never been interested in. I’ve been to parties where people have been snorting coke off the tables and I’ve never fancied that. Aside from that, it’s always been the music that has kept me going.’

Ask him how he’d most like to be remembered and he takes a rare pause, thinks long and hard.

‘There have been so many great things. Like getting the knighthood in 2006. Bloody amazing, probably the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me. When I got the letter saying I was being considered I had to wonder, “Am I worthy?” I kept thinking back, wondering if I’d done anything wrong they might find out about. Even when it came to the day itself I was worried that they’d change their mind. Only when the Queen hit me with the sword could I relax about it.

‘As for how I’m remembered, I’ll probably settle with what Otis Redding said to me. I met him just before his plane crash in 1967 and he told me I was the greatest living soul singer.

‘It doesn’t get any better than that, does it? So I’d like to be remembered simply as a great singer. But I haven’t finished yet. There’s plenty more singing to be done. I’m Jones The Voice.

‘It’s what I do. They’ll be nailing down my coffin and I’ll still be belting out a tune, don’t you worry about that.’

Praise & Blame is out now on Island Records