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Randy Newman

By Gary Tischler

September 2008

Photo By Pamela Springsteen

Looking at Randy Newman’s resume of astonishing accomplishment, you don’t know whether to genuflect or just send him a letter of congratulations.

Check this out: One Oscar for original song,17-count e’m, l7 Oscar Nominations,  Five Grammy Awards, 13 Grammy nominations, two Emmys and probably quite a few other honors stashed away over a career that goes back to the 1960s.

Imposing, impressive, all of that. You’ve seen him on the Oscars, backed by a full, lush orchestra, his hair getting white,  singing one of his songs from “Toy Story”, or “Monsters, Inc.”

And then, you put on the CD of his latest album “Harps and Angels”, and you hear that raspy, almost pleading rough voice, and all those words, and the rhythms, rickety-tick, begging for a tap dance, or a street shuffle, and you hear the refrain:  “Ooooh yes Ooooh (that would be eight o’s all told), Yes, it was harps and angels/harps and angels coming near/ I was too sick to roll over and see them/But I could hear them singing ever so beautifully in my ear.”

And now on the phone, the voice still raspy-sounding, like some guy that’s been riding the train, or gave up smoking somewhere in his life, Newman is talking about how he sees himself. This seems important. Everything you read lists the accolades, the Oscar stuff and “Short People” and all the refrains of miles of music and begs a description: singer-songwriter, composer, musicians, and, sure, legendary comes up quite a bit. “Singer, songwriter, yeah, that fits, but composer that’s what I do,” he says.

But those words, thousands of ‘em, those bouncy tunes, the lines that hit you right between the eyes, and the surging, bluesy stuff, somehow, you think: the guy’s a rock and roller, after all is said and done.

“Well, that’s what I think, yeah, I think I’m a rock and roll guy,” he says. “But you know, there’s all these guys out there, say you don’t rock, you’re not Led Zeppelin, or you don’t do heavy metal, or whatever, you know the really ear-splitting stuff. So, no rock and roll. But I think I am.”

“Actually, I started to listen to those guys (“Led Zeppelin”), and they’re amazing musicians, to me, they do great SONGS,” he says. “You appreciate good writing, great music.”

Whatever it is he does, area fans will be able to hear and see Randy Newman, the man and his piano, in the spotlight, in the big, beautiful spaces of the Music Center at Strathmore,  when he kicks off the Strathmore season September 24, no doubt cajoling his way through the Newman songbook, but also going heavy on the “Harps and Angels”, which only happens to be his first album of new stuff in nine years. Be prepared to smile, to argue, to tap your feet in the good time manner of folks like the Preservation Hall Jazz Band of New Orleans.

“Yeah, there’s a New Orleans flavor in a lot of that stuff,” he says. “No city like it in the world. I love it. The music comes out of there, right off the sidewalks, you know. It’s in the blood. It’s just special, I don’t know, the weather, the people, that great mix.  So, yeah, that first song and some of the ballads, it’s got that feel.”

The songs, in fact feel like the efforts made by people getting up off the sidewalk, after looking up at the sky surprised to be alive, that it’s another day and you just got to reprise musically where you’ve been and what you’ve lived through. There’s a lot of that stuff in this album.

Might even shock some people, and not for the first time. While he’s an acknowledged terrific and honored composer, he’s also got a way with words, he’s one of those true American poets, lamenter, magic man, social critic and satirist, and secret smart ass. It’s one of those contradictory qualities about him: Hollywood, movie scoring, big, lush orchestra, but also sounding often like a guy who’s been trailing around rickety-ticky bands, chasing the hurdy gurdy man, catching the taste of dust and sweat in his mouth and losing the love of a good woman heartbreak. And not afraid to take a shot at the powers that be.

That’s where songs like “A Few Words in Defense of Our Country” and “A Piece of the Pie” come in, two hard-as-hurricane-rain songs that don’t mince words but bounce along like a tap dancer. “Oh, I don’t think people get upset,” he says. “People that come to hear me, I figure they’re like me and I’m like them.”  Don’t expect to see the current vice president, and the new wanna-be there, though.

For a long time, Newman wrote hits for other people from Nillsen to Three Dog Night (Mama Told Me)to Joe Cocker (“You can Leave Your Hat On”), but when he came up with “Short People” (which some short people took offense to), he became a bona fide star and legend-to-be. The movie stuff, much of it for Disney, didn’t hurt and comes naturally, with three uncles in the business, including Alfred Newman.

You suspect, with all those credentials, though, it’s when he sits down at a piano that he’s really happy. Even the most jaded, dark side of the moon of his songs have a jump to them, a keyboard piece of hope. Check it out. Here comes Randy Newman, hurdy gurdy man, singer-songwriter, Oscar winner, and winner-winner, legend. And, oh yeah, rock and roller.

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