Celebrating Tom Jones on his 83rd birthday. —Ed.
What’s new pussycat? For starters, the legendary Tom Jones—that manly hunk of a man with the curly crop of black hair and awe-inspiring mutton chop sideburns—is back with a new LP, 2021’s Surrounded by Time. So what you ask? Well consider this—the world’s most beloved Las Vegas casino lounge act is 80-years-old and still has the mighty baritone pipes that propelled him to fame with “It’s Not Unusual” back in 1964.
What sets Jones apart from his contemporaries is his dedication to keeping up with the trends. Most have opted to play it safe, sticking to the sentimental favorites beloved by their aging fan bases. They may toss in an “edgy” number along the lines of “Maybe I’m Amazed” and “Bad Bad Leroy Brown,” but you’re far more likely to be subjected to such dentures-pleasing tear-jerkers like “The Little White Cloud That Cried” and “Daddy Don’t You Walk So Fast.”
Such isn’t the case with Jones, who has taken risks galore. Try to imagine Engelbert Humperdinck singing “Sex Bomb,” a collaboration between Jones and German DJ Mousse T—or “Burning Down the House.” Why Jones hasn’t gotten around to covering the Sex Pistols’ “God Save the Queen” is a mystery.
On Surrounded by Time Jones shakes things up even more than unusual, singing covers of artists from alt-country stalwart Todd Snider, The Waterboys, Tony Callier, Cat Stevens, and Bob Dylan. And I’m not talking about done-to-death Stevens/Dylan wheezers like “Morning Has Broken” or “Lay Lady Lay.” No, Jones dives deep and comes up with Stevens’ “Popstar” and Dylan’s “One More Cup of Coffee.”
And thanks to producer Ethan Johns, who’s worked with artists as diverse as The Vaccines and Paul McCartney, both the arrangements and instrumentation are cutting edge. On Surrounded by Time Jones holds on to the big-throated melodrama that characterizes the flashy music entertainers of his big showbiz brethren, but dispenses for the most part with the sentimentality; aside from “The Windmills of Your Mind,” on Surrounded by Time Jones steers clear of the sorts of songs that make you grandma think back on better times.
The most daring track on Surrounded by Time is Todd Snider’s “Talking Reality Television Blues,” a spoken word modern history lesson underpinned by Ethan Jones’ Moog synthesizer and electric guitar and the menacing rhythm section of drummer Jeremy Stacey and bass player Nick Pini. You won’t be hearing this song on your nearest Golden Oldies radio station anytime soon, and the same goes far “I’m Growing Old,” a simple piano-backed piece that includes snippets of radio broadcasts from way back when and is guaranteed to remind the geriatric crowd that death is just around the corner. And very few will want to hear “The Lazarus Man,” on which Jones comes back from the dead over a musical backdrop that would make The Doors proud.
And who would have expected the drum machine, mellotron, mood sequence/bass and Chamberlin that underpin Jones’ reading of Cat Stevens’ “Popstar”? Or the sitar in Jones’ gritty and defiant cover of folk blues singer and political activist Malvina Reynolds’ “No Hole in My Head”? Jones doesn’t just sing that “too bad” at the end of every stanza—he shouts it out in defiance. Similarly, he lends a poignant note to a cappella singer and SNCC founding member Bernice Johnson Reagon’s “I Won’t Crumble with You If You Fall.”
Pini’s upright bass lends a jazz feel to “One More Cup of Coffee,” and Jones suffuses the song with as much mystery as the Dylan original. And Jones demonstrates he has a knack for the blues on the traditional “Samson and Delilah”—he may go a tad bit over the top, but I love the way he rips into that “If I had my way/I would tear this building down!” And he emotes—or overemotes if you’re going to be a dick about it—on The Waterboys’ “This is the Sea,” which has an organ-driven gospel vibe.
A precious few of Tom Jones’ slick cohorts share his interest in keeping up with the times, but aging seems to have only increased his willingness to stray from his comfort zone. Sure, he’s recorded his fair share of sentimental kitsch, but it takes real creative risk-taking for a musical artist eight decades young to take on “Talking Reality Television Blues.” Perhaps it’s as simple as the fact that Jones took London by storm at the dawning of the Swinging Sixties, and it left indelible its mark on him. Time may surround him, and it’s closing in, but Jones won’t go down looking backwards. He’ll leave that to the likes of Engelbert Humperdinck.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
