Introduction
Sally Obermeder Sits Down with Singing Legend Sir Tom Jones: “Music Has Been My Lifeline”
When Sally Obermeder walked into the Sydney studio to interview Sir Tom Jones, she was meeting more than a music icon — she was meeting living history. At 85, with over six decades in the spotlight, Tom Jones remains as magnetic as ever. Dressed in a sharp black suit, silver hair glinting under the lights, he greets Sally with that unmistakable Welsh charm and a booming laugh that could still fill an arena.
“I’ve seen it all,” he says with a grin. “But I’m still learning — that’s the secret, isn’t it?”
Their conversation — candid, moving, and filled with laughter — proves why Sir Tom Jones has never stopped captivating audiences. He’s weathered heartbreak, reinvention, and the relentless passage of time, yet his voice, both literally and metaphorically, remains unbroken.
From Pontypridd to the World
Sally begins by asking what it feels like to look back at a career that began in the small Welsh mining town of Pontypridd. Tom chuckles, his voice warm and reflective. “It feels like another life,” he says. “When I was a kid, all I wanted was to sing. I didn’t dream of fame — I just wanted people to hear me.”
He pauses, eyes softening with memory. “My dad worked down in the mines. My mother kept the home. Music was how we escaped. I sang everywhere — in pubs, at weddings, even standing on tables. I didn’t know it then, but that was my training ground.”
By the mid-1960s, that raw talent exploded into international fame with hits like “It’s Not Unusual,” “What’s New Pussycat?” and “Delilah.” Within a few years, the young man from Wales was performing in Las Vegas alongside Elvis Presley, trading stories and laughter with Sinatra, and redefining what it meant to be a global star.
“Elvis and I had a great friendship,” Tom recalls. “He called me ‘TC’ — Tom Cat. We used to sing gospel together in his suite at 3 a.m. Those were magical nights.”
The Longevity of a Legend
Few artists manage to remain relevant across generations, but Sir Tom has done it effortlessly — from the pop charts of the 1960s to duets with stars like Robbie Williams, Lady Gaga, and Jennifer Hudson. When Sally asks how he’s managed to stay timeless, Tom smiles knowingly.
“You have to evolve, but you can’t lose your soul,” he says. “I’ve changed styles, I’ve recorded everything from pop to soul to gospel — but I always sing like myself. People can smell a fake.”
He admits that reinvention hasn’t always been easy. “There were times when I thought maybe I’d had my run,” he confides. “But every time I went back to the stage, something inside me said, ‘No, not yet.’ Music has been my lifeline.”
Even after 60 years, his passion for performing hasn’t dimmed. “I still get nervous before a show,” he laughs. “That’s how I know it still matters. When you stop feeling that spark — that’s when you stop being an artist.”
Loss, Love, and Resilience
Sally gently turns the conversation toward the personal side of his story — particularly the loss of his beloved wife, Melinda, in 2016. For a moment, the room grows still. Tom’s eyes glisten as he takes a breath.
“She was my rock,” he says softly. “We met when we were kids — I was 12, she was 15. We married young, and she stayed by me through everything: fame, mistakes, success, all of it. Losing her… that was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced.”
He credits music — and his faith — for helping him through grief. “There were nights when I didn’t think I could sing again,” he admits. “But I’d hear her voice in my head saying, ‘Go on, Tom. You’ve still got songs to sing.’ So I did.”
Sally asks if he still feels her presence. “Every day,” he says. “I still talk to her. I’ll be backstage, about to go on, and I’ll say, ‘This one’s for you, girl.’ She’s the reason I keep going.”
Mentor and Modern-Day Icon
Tom’s recent years have seen him not only performing but mentoring new generations of singers as a coach on The Voice UK. He lights up when Sally asks about it.
“I love working with young talent,” he says. “They remind me of myself at that age — hungry, scared, hopeful. My advice to them is always the same: don’t imitate anyone. Find your own sound, your own truth.”
He laughs when Sally mentions the viral clips of him bringing contestants — and audiences — to tears with impromptu performances. “Well, that’s the thing,” he says. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ve got stories in your voice. Every note has a little piece of your life in it.”
And indeed, when Tom Jones sings now — songs like “I Won’t Crumble If You Fall” or “One More Cup of Coffee” — the weight of his journey pours through every word. It’s not just a performance; it’s a conversation between a man and his past.
Looking Forward, Not Back
Despite his long career, Sir Tom refuses to see himself as a relic of another era. “I hate the word ‘legacy,’” he tells Sally. “It sounds like something finished. I’m not finished. There’s always another song, another story to tell.”
When asked if he ever thinks about retiring, he smiles mischievously. “Retire from what? Breathing?” he laughs. “I love what I do. The day I stop singing is the day I stop living.”
Sally remarks on how grounded he seems after all these years. Tom shrugs modestly. “Fame doesn’t make you special,” he says. “It just gives you a microphone. What matters is how you use it — and who you sing for.”
The Final Note
As their conversation winds down, Sally asks what advice he’d give his younger self. He leans back, thoughtful. “I’d tell him to slow down and enjoy it more. I was always racing — from one show to the next, one city to another. I’d say, ‘Take a breath, kid. You’re living the dream.’”
Before leaving, he flashes that familiar grin — the same one that’s charmed audiences for over half a century. “You know,” he says, “I may be older, but I still feel 25 when I hear that crowd. That’s the magic of it — music keeps you young.”
And as Sally Obermeder says her goodbyes, it’s clear that the man who once defined swagger now embodies something deeper: grace, gratitude, and a voice that refuses to fade.