Tom Jones International

On slow Tom-news days, it’s sometimes fun to revisit old stories, such as this review from the time when Tom toured Australia last year with John Farnham. The focus was on Farnham, returning to the stage after an announced retirement and his fans were thrilled. (Except the Aussie we know who laughed at the news and said, “Little Johnny Farnahm? Is he still around?”) Nonetheless, it was a wonderful event for Farnham loyalists and Tom was the icing on the cake. You can get a live concert CDand a DVD. (Note: The DVD is only in NTSC format.)

This review of the show is fun to read, as it is written from a Farnham fan’s perspective. (Given that fact, it’s kind of odd that Tom gets the lion’s share of praise, though we re not complaining.) The photo below, captioned, “Two voices … Farnsy and Jonesy on Saturday” is by Steve Lunam of the Sydney Morning Herald.

And, here’s a link to an interview with “Farnsy and Jonesy” from the time their Australian tour opened. Enjoy!

By George Palathingal/Sydney Morning Herald/February 14, 2005

The woman in the summery dress stands on her seat, turns to face the audience and bends forward. As the cameras from the photographer pit flash in her direction, she flashes right back at them, shimmying out of her underwear so she can throw it at a 64-year-old Welshman. Fellow fans of live music, take note: this is not what you might call a regular audience, or a regular gig.

Both are, in fact, a lot more fun than many. It’s to be an evening of shameless nostalgia, Vegas-cheesy entertainment and sometimes terribly dated music, yes. But it will also be a refreshingly unpretentious, enjoyable one.

“Let’s get ready to rumble!” cries the backing tape, and the two stars stride onto the stage: from the left, Australia’s own soft-rock heavyweight, John Farnham; and from the right, the more svelte knicker-magnet, Tom Jones. They sing a couple of songs together that reveal Jones to be the more comfortable mover of the two but then his skin appears to be orange under his playboy beard, so maybe Farnsy doesn’t look so silly after all.

Either way, both voices are clearly in tremendous nick, and Farnham leaves so Jones can show his off first.

The charismatic Welshman favours bluesy rock’n'roll these days, but that’s not going to stop him bellowing operatically through his biggest hits, too, as the panty-chuckers move into position. Delilah is more camp than Mardi Gras; Green, Green Grass of Home is a heart-wrenching, country-twanging delight; and It’s Not Unusual puts a salacious fire in his swivelling hips. He’s so hot that by the end I need a pair of undies to wipe the sweat from my brow.

If you thought Jones was popular, the security people who successfully kept his fans from dancing in the aisles don’t stand a chance when Farnham comes on. Even though his higher voice is impressive, I prefer Farnham’s larrikin banter to his songs, especially the Whispering Jack “classics,” which emphatically prove the 1980s is the decade that has dated most badly.

But it doesn’t really matter. His set flies by, before Jones rejoins him for a typically dramatic You’re the Voice and an encore of crowd-pleasing covers. They have such a contagiously good time, even a late downpour can’t dampen the mood.