Charles Kraus: Tony Christie: Is this the way to reinvention?

The 60s pop star was enjoying a quiet retirement and the odd nostalgic gig, but his son had other ideas ?

Before Tony Christie's son came along to rescue his father's career ? which, if not quite in the doldrums, was certainly gathering dust on its creaking rafters ? Sheffield's answer to Tom Jones was in many ways a relic of a bygone era. Outwardly, at least, he seemed perfectly content: he was living in Spain, where he worked on his tan and frequently performed on a nostalgia circuit that demanded little more of him than oldies he could probably have sung in his sleep.

But then along came his son Sean, with his younger person's drive and ways of thinking. Five years on, Dad, now 67, has left behind the nostalgia and become more forward-thinking. He is cool again, too. This can be no mere coincidence. "It was never something we actually sat down and talked about," says Sean. An infectiously friendly 42-year-old, his can-do qualities are immediately apparent. "We just sort of went with it. Peter Kay had just used (Is This The Way To) Amarillo [essentially Tony Christie's signature tune] on Phoenix Nights, and I stepped in and suggested that Dad should tour to capitalise on the exposure. We've not really looked back since." He grins. "Haven't had the time, frankly."

Though many families with adult children appear to be in a state of perennial discomfort whenever they are in one another's company, festering resentments always close to the surface, the Christie clan have remained uncommonly tight. It's a chemistry readily on view today, a cold January afternoon in the Groucho Club in Soho. Tony's wife Sue is cordial and ready with a handbag full of cough sweets should anyone feel chesty. Sean is effusive and efficient (when the drinks come, he pours), while Tony himself ? who these days looks disarmingly like Kirk Douglas ? assumes the Godfather role, stately, mostly silent and, consequently, just a little aloof. It is only after the interview that he bursts into belated life: "Desperate for the toilet," he says, breaking into a trot.

This year is Tony's 50th anniversary in show business. He is to commemorate it with a new album, Now's The Time!, and a tour, during which Sue will perhaps be the most crucial cog. "Am I his PA?" she repeats witheringly. "No, I'm his wife." Her smile becomes, mercifully, more ameliorative. "Well, yes, all right, I am sort of like his PA. I do all the frocks, I keep him happy on the road, I play mum."

"She's improved his diet no end," Sean says, "Banning all those late-night curries."

"I had to. They weren't agreeing with him. Your stomach ulcer returned, didn't it?"

Her husband nods. "She keeps me healthy. And trim."

The couple have been married for 43 years now, a union undimmed, unlike those of some of Tony's peers, by scurrilous rumour or multiple infidelities. Theirs is a cupboard free of skeletons, which they readily concede makes his autobiography quite a task for his ghostwriter: "There's no sensation," Tony says with quiet pride.

The couple have three children, two girls, now aged 40 and 36 (the former works for the British Embassy, the latter is a head teacher), and Sean, the only one to follow in his father's footsteps. Initially, Sean was for several years the drummer in a band, but their chances were rudely scuppered when one member left to join a more successful outfit (The Charlatans). The band limped on but, by now a father of two, Sean thought it wise to do something more proactive with his life.

It was 2005 and his father was still in Spain, living the expat life and doing the occasional gig. Though he was no longer well known in the UK, he was, he points out, "still big in Germany". But with the unexpected revival of Amarillo thanks to the sitcom Phoenix Nights (it became that year's Comic Relief song), Sean saw an opportunity to get his father's career back on track. A greatest hits album had recently been released, so he ushered his father back out on the road to play to what he hoped would be a new generation of fans. In this he turned out to be correct. "My father had built up an awful lot of goodwill over the years," he says. "Everybody loved him." The album reached number three in the charts.

He also proved enduringly popular with a brace of modern musicians, each eager to pay him vocal respect. Sean hit on the idea of a collaborative project, and in 2008, Tony released Made in Sheffield, which featured contributions from Jarvis Cocker, Arctic Monkeys and Richard Hawley. "That was a nice thing to do," Tony says, "because it gave me a chance to show what I was capable of. I think for too long I was thought of as a rather cheesy 60s popstar, but Made in Sheffield allowed me to prove otherwise. Hopefully the new album will, too. When you get to my age, you think of your legacy a lot, and I want to update it constantly."

Which he is why he is planning such an exhaustive tour: 50 dates. He has already had his flu jab in preparation, and Sue has been busy orchestrating his health regime. "He takes at least 10 pills a day ? vitamins, remedies, things such as glucose, fish oils, lots of homoeopathic stuff," she says. "And we're both on the ginkgo for memory. At least when we remember to take it, we are ?"

For the past four months, due to a house fire, Sean and his wife and children have been living with his parents in their Sheffield mansion, but even once they move back home, they will still be only three doors away. Here, then, is a happy example of an extended family who choose to live in one another's pockets, both in and out of work. They are not even planning any time apart before the tour; none of them craves breathing space.

"We're not that kind of family," Sue says. "We've always been very civil with one another, and we get along, even on the road."

How do they manage to keep their cool in the face of the pre-show stress and post-show ennui that has ruined so many relationships, familial and otherwise? Sean suggests the answer lies in the fact that they talk about things. "We have discussions about everything," he says. "Not arguments; discussions. They help, because obviously we have differences of opinion from time to time."

A recurring one revolves around commercial appeal. Sean believes his father should be proactively commercial, but Tony thinks otherwise. Sean is trying to convince him to record a duets album, such albums having a rich tradition of serving artists of a certain age and standing rather well, often introducing them to a whole new demographic. But Tony isn't budging. Why? "Everyone does them," he says, citing Tom Jones and Shirley Bassey as recent examples. "I don't necessarily want to do what everybody else does, and I'm not about to be convinced it's the thing to do just because it might be a commercial success."

But his son remains adamant. So how will this particular discussion play itself out?

Tony: "I'll listen to Sean's argument, and then I'll make my mind up. But it will be my decision."

He must, nevertheless, be terribly grateful to his son for playing such a crucial part in reinventing him this late in his career? Sue, answering on Tony's behalf, says that parents are always proud of their children. All Tony himself will say on the subject is: "Well, it's definitely working."

His son smiles. "Dad is a man of few words," he says. "You know he loves you, but he doesn't say it very much. It's the same with praise: I don't have to be told. I just know."

And that's enough?

He nods. "It is."

Tony Christie's Now's The Time! will be released on the Acid Jazz label on 7 February. His tour starts in Brighton on 3 February

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