Tom Jones and Chic
St Anne’s Park
★★★★☆
As the elements decided to give Raheny a good kicking, it was wishful thinking on the likable Billy Ocean’s part to promise to take us where the sun was shining before his 1980s chestnut Caribbean Queen but he still got the ball rolling nicely with his easy charm. He also looked marvellous in a natty purple three-piece. Very hard not to enjoy his pop/soul fare but practically impossible to have any problem with Nile Rodgers & Chic.
If you don’t fancy this song, although you should because they throw out more hits than an upset Katie Taylor, there’ll be another classic along in a minute. Such is Rodger’s embarrassment of riches as a performer and songwriter, Chic had to utilise medleys to shoehorn them all in during an hour tighter than a right angle. This meant that everything from Le Freak to Diana Ross’s I’m Coming Out, past the best of Sister Sledge, through some Madonna, and a bit of Bowie, Beyoncé, and Daft Punk was reduced down to its groovy essence. Powered by the chucking chords of Rodgers’ Hitmaker guitar and bass lines you could dry dock a tanker on, they didn’t bore us, they got to the chorus, and resistance was futile. Even if you’d fallen foul of the mob and found your feet encased in concrete, you’d still be forced to shake a leg while you waited for the men in suits to drop you off at the river. Was it raining? Who cares?
Tom Jones turned 84 last Friday, and it’s a bit chilly for anyone to consider throwing their underwear at the stage. That being said, his mighty voice is still impressive enough to make you wonder if the Welsh government pay him a national monument subsidy. Even more noteworthy was Jones’ canny rearrangements of his big hitters to suit his mature years.
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It’s Not Unusual, complete with a mid-song growl that proved the handsome old dog is still in the kennel, and What’s New Pussycat?, a tricky Bacharach melody for any singer, were coloured by accordion that bestowed a French cafe air. Green, Green Grass Of Home and the Across The Borderline, which he sang at Willie Nelson’s 90th birthday, displayed genuine country soul. Delilah saw his crack band transform this hoary old warbler into a Tex-Mex murder ballad that was all border town twangy guitar and most surprising of all was the sage recasting of Sexbomb as first a blues moan then a Muddy Waters-style bragging shuffle.
Yes, You Can Leave Your Hat On had a touch of father-of-the-bride at the afters but elsewhere his choice of covers – Dylan’s Nor Dark Yet, Leonard Cohen’s Tower Of Song – was superb. Those of us expecting more cheese that a Frenchman’s shopping trolley were pleasantly surprised by a warm lesson in ageing with dignity. The fairest of plays to him and to a smiling audience determined, despite the evening’s inclemency, to have a good time.
