Tom Jones as sensual, soulful as ever

By Joe Brown

Monday, May 4, 2009 | 2 a.m.

It was just a one-panty night.

But that was no reflection on the superhuman efforts of singer Tom Jones, who inspected the pale-pink offering with bemusement on the stage at the MGM Grand.

Projectile panties are part of protocol at a Jones performance. For nearly all of his 40-year career, affectionately showering Jones with lingerie and hotel room keys has become as much a part of the act as his winking and hip-swiveling. A few years ago, Jones politely asked for it to stop.

At 68, Jones has let himself go gray — all over, as he showed us, briefly pulling up his shirt to appreciative screams. With his woolly gray mane and goatee, he resembles a magnificent old lion. Coming out in full roar, he turns the Hollywood Theatre — which is incidentally adjacent to the casino’s Lion Habitat — into a cougars’ den.

“I’m alive!” are the first words he sings, as if there was ever any question.

And then, “I am a man,” which again, he needn’t repeat, but he does.

Masculinity established, he’s off, and he never wavers — Jones’ show is remarkable for its sheer relentlessness.

Jones — that’s Sir Tom Jones, to the likes of you and me, as he was knighted four years ago — is at the MGM Grand again starting Thursday for two weeks of nightly shows, part of a summerlong rotating residency, alternating with magician David Copperfield and comedian Howie Mandel.

Until Mick Jagger came along, Jones had no peer but Elvis in projecting overt male sexuality into pop culture. And 42 years after his first Vegas gig at the Flamingo, he’s still got it.

Today, the hips may have a more limited orbit, but Jones still exudes a lazy sensuality with a sly smile, lots of leonine lip-licking and eye-rolling, holding the mike with extended pinkies (with rings on both) and getting winky-winky with his two go-go-ing female singers.

Lit in hot shades of chartreuse and fuchsia, he digs into a hip-hop samba about “the kids by the pool,” which is something Jones seems to know about. Tanned to a crackly crunch, blue eyes beaming from tangerine complexion, he stands his ground dressed in black from head to toe, with a tangle of gold chains.

His voice is as powerful as ever, maybe more so.

Tom Jones doesn’t do quiet. Never has. He sets the controls to “belt” — no slow, soft builds for him — and stays there. And no one can chew on a vowel like Jones can. He bites into a word — “you,” for instance — and rolls it around in his mouth till it’s several syllables later.

Jones is first and foremost a blue-eyed soul singer, and his 90-minute set is a full-on R&B revue.

Sure, he playfully strikes some Elvis poses and gets Frank with us on “Fly Me To The Moon” and “That Old Black Magic.” But this is not an oldies show. Jones continues to record new material with hip producers, and quite a few songs from his latest album, “24 Hours,” make it to the Vegas stage. Some have a touch of Philly soul, others trade in dirty blues, acoustic confessional and techno throb, all played by a blazing, brassy live band, with a drum sound that could dissolve any nascent kidney stones in the audience.

Don’t worry, Jones gives the people what he knows they want — but on his time and his terms.

“Delilah” gets the full Vegas thump-and-brass. A rocked-up “She’s A Lady” is greeted with screams of joy, which are surpassed in passion only when he hauls out “It’s Not Unusual” and “What’s New, Pussycat?”

When it’s all over, you leave knowing you’ve been in the still-vital presence of the real lion king.