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Careers come and go in the fickle world of pop, but Tom Jones has outstayed most with a combination of raw talent, good luck, and a savvy commercial sense.
Nearly 45 years since he shot to the top of the charts with his second single It's Not Unusual, Jones the voice is back with a new studio album. Its his first since 2002's frankly awful Mr. Jones (from which we hoped Tom learned the lesson to never work again with Wyclef Jean), and eight years since his career was revitalised by the covers set Reload.
What is encouraging about 24 Hours is the fact that Jones has effectively gone back to the start of his career for inspiration. There is no Rick Rubin on show here, no stylistic reinventions, just plain old white boy pop soul. With Amy Winehouse and Duffy all over the charts in recent times, its time for a man to stamp his mark on all this retro soul malarkey.
While there is a faint tinge of sadness that it takes a man closing in on his eight decade on this planet to give the girls a run for their money, there is no denying that 24 Hours should be afforded the respect it deserves. Put simply, the album rocks and rolls with a verve that belies Jones's years.
The opening cover of Tommy James And The Shondells' I'm Alive blasts out of the speakers from the first beat and doesn't let up. For a statement of intent it takes some beating, and comes respectably close to equalling the original.
The sweeping If He Should Ever Leave You maintains the hit rate and is also the album's first single release, although its classic pop style seems to have regrettably avoided troubling the charts.
Jones doesn't often surface as a songwriter, but here he lends a hand on a good proportion of the material, further evidence that the singer wishes to be seen as a serious artist even this late into his career. Tellingly, he offers a tribute to his long-suffering wife on the touching ballad The Road.
Then again, Jones is not content to hang up his party shoes just yet. In Style And Rhythm and Sugar Daddy (the latter co-written with Bono and The Edge) both strut their stuff to notable effect ('You don't send a boy to do a man's work', indeed).
The album's big moment appears towards the end with a storming, six and a half minute cover version of Bruce Springsteen's The Hitter. This tale of a tired prize fighter is given a sympathetic, deeply soulful reading that recalls the glory days of Stax Records.
After the slow-burning ballad Seen That Face, the album ends on a downbeat note with the spare title track. Over the accompaniment of a single beating drum and some atmospheric synths, Jones tells the story of a prisoner awaiting execution. Sex Bomb it ain't, but hats off to the singer for sticking to his guns and playing his own game.
24 Hours is notably Jones's first American release for 15 years (he is signed to the independent label S-Curve over there), and on this form he deserves to reap the same kind nof critical and commercial success bestowed on the likes of Johnny Cash and Neil Diamond in the twilight of their careers.
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