Why the hell should everyone listen to Randy Newman?
I’ve never understood why art never seems to be a laughing matter. Oh sure, we constantly call comics ‘geniuses’ these days, but we never really mean it. That’s why we say it so often. We’ve diluted the term down to justify its ubiquity, so that we can casually say, ‘Oh yeah, Steve Martin is a genius’ without flinching. But he is a casual genius, isn’t he? As the progenitor of modern comedy, he made millions laugh with an exultant combination of affable fun, acerbic wit, and a postmodernist sense of meta. Randy Newman’s music is the same, but will we ever live to see the day when it isn’t laughable to list his name alongside that of Bob Dylan, John Lennon or Leonard Cohen?
The lyric, “If Marx were living today, he’d be rolling around in his grave” is genius. Responding to a letter about a fan who committed suicide while listening to a loop of the song ‘Laughing Boy’, by saying, ‘Thank you, great compliment’ is genius (dark, but genius). Crafting tracks that can beguile children with wonder and offer up affirmation for that same child 20 years later is also genius (light, but genius).
However, aside from establishing the whys and wherefores behind his lack of reverence alongside stars of a similar ilk who favour a genius’ favourite ally: solemnity, or establishing Newman’s credentials, we’re focusing on what he can do for you. Newman has the unique artistic potential to broaden your understanding of the art form itself—to push you towards a new songwriting understanding and welcome you into a wider canon of greats.
Take, for instance, his offering for the film Meet the Parents, ‘A Fool in Love’: the manic operatic stylings of the song’s intro guarantee one thing for certain, the track was never going to be a hit. But 46 seconds into the confounding maelstrom of music, the opera settles down into a gorgeous, poetic ditty with a lilting melody that lowers cholesterol and welcomes sunshine into a couple’s abode. At first, you might wonder whether the bewildering choir and Tchaikovsky-esque bellow in the intro are worth shunning radio play for, but it is that exact reason that makes Newman great—not just great, in fact, but one of the greatest songwriters of all time.
You see, in pop culture, we don’t just love virtuosos – the punks proved that – we love the stories that people tell. And Newman is one of the finest musical storytellers there is. His tales have three dimensions and technicolour, while much of pop is a 2D black and white facsimile. If he is singing about some poor bastard with a sore head after a breakup, then there will be dissonance in the mix, not just some slightly sombre melody. But sore heads and breakups don’t stay that way forever, so soon he’ll be whisking the melody away towards something a little sweeter and chirpier to match the springlike rejuvenation of new beginnings without the song ever breaking stride or losing its sense of identity.
That’s important because it takes from old folks’ story songs with memorable melodies to story songs with notable melodies. His inventive use of instrumentation adds colour and texture to titillating tales. And yet, beyond that, it is the brimming charm that truly allures you to his oeuvre. His tracks are joyously individual, like a true punk with a music degree and with true character sans the snarling affrontery beyond the tunes.
Newman lives by the sage tenet that the song is everything. They become individual works with their own autonomy. If a track turns wayward and defies the checklist of a conventional hit, then c’est la vie; it was simply born that way. Likewise, if it’s two notes and a simple ABABCAB structure, and it doesn’t give him a chance to show off his skills, then so be it. To reiterate, the song is all, and each one tells a new story.
His tales can be comic tragedies, satirical jibes, wholesome, earnest ditties, or whatever the whims of his muse decree. They will, however, never look to punch too far beyond their weight, whatever that means. Devoid of the notion of what a masterpiece should look like, these tracks are resplendent artifices of the vagaries of human comedy. And they are filled with the sort of wavering uncertainties that make you glad we can’t pick hits every time for the colour that it brings.
