The Welsh “voice from the valleys” has spent the past 15 years moving away from the hip-swinging Vegas-playing performer of yore, whose gyrations and double entendres had grown women hurling their knickers at the stage. Instead, like Johnny Cash in his autumn years, the singer has become an elder statesman singing soulfully about maturity and mortality. He begins with Bobby Cole’s brutally frank I’m Growing Old, to which someone responds “Oh no you’re not!” When one lady dutifully throws her smalls during, of all things, Bob Dylan’s haunting One More Cup of Coffee, the singer doesn’t miss a note as they fall rather disconsolately into the orchestra pit.
He’s 83 now (“I can’t believe it!”) and visibly not as nimble, but that rich, full-bodied baritone is as stunning an instrument as ever. He sings with a smile on his face and looks genuinely thrilled at the crowd’s roared appreciation and “whoa whoa whoa”s, suggesting he loves performing as much as ever and is savouring every second he can.
