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By STEVE PERSALL
© St. Petersburg Times, published October 29, 2000
SARASOTA -- "God spoke to me," Randy Newman fibbed Friday night to a sparse crowd at Van Wezel Hall. "I was surprised. I thought it would've been 'N Sync, someone with better demographics."
Silly pundit. Newman's tricks aren't for kids. Just ask two children in front of me who expected some guy singing Toy Story ditties. They endured an hour of Newman's earthy odes to blind faith and drunk ambition before perking up for a rushed version of You've Got a Friend In Me.
After intermission, paraphrasing one of Newman's omitted songs, Mama told them not to come back.
Seeing the world through Randy Newman's squint isn't for the young, or even naive grown-ups.
Take his lyrics at face value and you may think this 57-year-old troubadour is a cynical old wheeze. Those are just the boozy losers he's speaking for: Rednecks at the end of their lynch-rope, politicians toying with Political Science or a lecher with no Shame.
But, a sense of mockery escapes some listeners. It's as subtle as the contradiction between his playful right-hand piano strokes and those sinister stabs with his left. It's as brittle as the contrast of the last two lines he sang Friday night: "Human kindness is overflowing. And I think it's going to rain today."
Nothing is ever as optimistic or pessimistic as it seems in a Randy Newman song; it's just inevitable. And funny, if you're on the same wavelength.
Irony is a tough sell unless you're Eminem, an artist with whom Newman shares the same trenchant humor. You could cram the lyrics of all 34 songs he played Friday into a handful of Eminem's raps. Details are brisk and telling. Newman jabs with short, descriptive strokes, and economy is why he sounds serious.
That, and a voice rasping with experience. Each failed reach for a high note adds to the desperate feel of his characters. Drunks cajoling one more chance from Marie or just pleading Guilty to being stoned again sounded genuine. Newman makes us believe in people wanting us to hurt as much as they do. Even if they don't realize how pathetic they appear.
Friday's show was a simple case of one man, one piano, and dozens of musical misfits wearing rose-colored blinders. Some of the sarcasm was self-inflicted; the show-biz spoofs I'm Dead But I Don't Know It and Lonely at the Top, or the sadly autobiographical I Miss You and Feels like Home.
Other songs filled gaps in history books: race relations, doomed imperialism in The Great Nations of Europe, a natural disaster in Louisiana 1927, or the slave-trader promises of Sail Away. The World Isn't Fair reasoned why Marxism failed (How can it be fair because some beautiful women love "froggish men, unpleasant to see?") He got topical once in his stage patter, suggesting It's Money That I Love as a Republican campaign song.
Short People, I Love L.A. and You Can Leave Your Hat On were easy playlist choices. Deeper excursions into his discography quieted some shouted requests. The world according to Randy Newman is dark and deluded with only a lottery chance of getting any better. That he can make us smile at those odds is nothing short of divine.