Tom Jones still has it, performs to a rowdy crowd in S.F.

Middle-aged women threw panties and bras at Tom Jones during his show in San Francisco. Middle-aged women threw panties and bras at Tom Jones during his show in San Francisco. Photo: Courtesy Photo: Courtesy Image 1 of / 1 Caption Close Tom Jones still has it, performs to a rowdy crowd in S.F. 1 / 1 Back to Gallery

Sporting a confidence that comes from three plastic cups of lukewarm Chardonnay, a middle-aged woman marched through the rowdy crowd at the San Francisco Masonic auditorium and threw a pair of panties onto the stage.

Tom Jones has still got it.

The 76-year-old singer performed in the city for a solid two hours Tuesday night to an eclectic crowd of spirited devotees, proving he’s as fit as he’s ever been over the course of his 50-year career. The only signs of Jones’ slow saunter into senior citizenry were his wispy white curls and a song dedication to his longtime wife, who’d passed away this spring.

“San Francisco!” Jones’ familiar voice boomed into his microphone. “We haven’t been here for a while. Don’t know why. We’ll have to straighten that out.”

The Masonic was the perfect venue for the tan pop star and his admittedly older fans. The plush auditorium was filled with cushioned pleather folding chairs and a concession stand that offered an Asian chicken salad or a pair of fusion tacos. Lines weren’t long, it wasn’t too loud, and the entire location was immaculate. Compared to other concert venues, the phrase that the Masonic draws to mind is “mom-friendly.”

“We feel a little fraudulent being here because we really only know his kitschy ’60s music,” confessed concert attendee Julia McLeod. “I’m all about the groovy era when he was really swinging his hips.”

McLeod and her friend Laura Halpin were curious to see if Jones would connect his hit “What’s New Pussycat” with the recently released Donald Trump audiotape that includes a similar word in a different context. Jones is a notorious womanizer. Halpin said, “I had a moment this morning where I thought, ‘What are we supporting here?’”

“He’s not ashamed of his sexuality or his appeal,” McLeod chimed in. “And it’s playful. At least that’s what we hope.”

An hour later, McLeod and Halpin were on their feet screaming: “We love you, Tom!”

Jones’ energy was positive and genuine. Sure, a lot of his songs are sexy and flirtatious, but Tom Jones is charmingly safe. He managed to sing “What’s New Pussycat” and “Sex Bomb” like a gentleman.

Backed by a nine-piece band, including a three-man horn section, Jones took his audience on a moving musical journey, through gospel and blues and into pop and some truly hard rock ’n’ roll. Throughout the show, Jones’ voice marched through the venue and dripped from the walls like thick velvet.

“I love his voice. He’s just a really good entertainer,” said June Jordan, who’d flown to San Francisco from Indianapolis just to see her first ever Tom Jones show.

While women in the crowd threw their underwear at him, Jones managed to ignore them. There were four pairs of panties and a white cotton bra at his feet that just sat there, seemingly making him uncomfortable. But the singer kept belting out the tunes. He egged on his bandmates and mugged beneath an overhead projection screen that often flashed photos and videos of Jones himself.

The recently knighted Welshman didn’t stick to his own work either. “I knew Elvis Presley very well, and Elvis was a great man,” Jones told the crowd as he introduced his haunting rendition of “The Elvis Presley Blues” by folk singer Gillian Welch. “This is my tribute to Elvis Presley.”

Jones saved his biggest hits for the end of the show. “It’s Not Unusual,” “Mama Told Me Not to Come” and “Thunderball” managed to lift almost everyone from their cushioned chairs. “Kiss” was presented as a tribute to Prince, a man Jones referred to as “the late, great genius.”

Jones and his kitschy hits might have helped inspire over-the-top knock-offs like Austin Powers, but in person the singer reveals himself to be an authentic, sincere musician. For his encore, Jones returned to the stage without his blazer, drenched in sweat. Still energetic, still on his feet, Jones vocal muscles were only slightly more impressive than the noticeable ones beneath his dress shirt.

“San Francisco,” he belted, “we love you! God bless you!”

Beth Spotswood is a freelance writer.