MARRY POPPINS

(I thought of that – CK)

Here we are in London. Did you know that England is an island? I knew they were somehow disconnected from the rest of Europe, but, an island? Just like Florida. Tonight everyone will understand everything I say. Uh oh. They speak English here. I’ve been getting away with murder out there.

The shows in Austria and Germany went well. I realize I haven’t told you enough about the nature of the shows, how it feels to be alone up there with just a piano and have thousands (hundreds – CK) of foreigners worship you. It’s a scrumptious (supercalifragilisticexpialadocious – CK) feeling and quite humbling (he doesn’t seem humble to me – CK) to think that One by his very presence can unite an entire nation as I did in Belgium is a wonderful thing. As Jackie Wilson once said, “There must be a cloud in my head. Rain keeps falling from my eyes.” The Irish Question, which I’ve been working on secretly for years – ooops – anyway, the Irish Question is too difficult to solve in one visit.

More importantly, a Little Criminal suggested that I play Rider In The Rain in Munich. It’s always a risk to play that song except in Belgium or Holland. It’s got four chords in it and if people don’t sing along it makes for a difficult minute and a half. Anyway, someone once said, I’m not saying whether or not I agree, that the Germans are the only people in the world who think a naked woman in a trash can is funny. The audience did fine with Rider In The Rain and I’m grateful to the Little Criminal who suggested it, and I’d like to thank the Academy.

They had the Brit Awards here the other night, their big music award show, there was a vicious attack on Justin Timberlake in one of the papers. When Justin and I were having breakfast this morning (he shouldn’t be telling you this – I do my best to hush these things up – last week was fashion week here – CK) I tried to console him about the bad publicity. I think he felt better before he left.

While I’m in London I’m looking for a new Bruno. The one I have at home is too busy Bruno-ing for other people. I hear they have some good Brunos here. My next Bruno will definitely not be a reggae Bruno but will either be a math or massage Bruno. (I’m getting a Bruno too – my Bruno will be a travel Bruno who can go on these trips instead of me – CK)

Your faithful correspondent,

Cathy

PS: My middle name is Stuart. A Royal connection?

–19 February 2004

THE SOUND OF MUSIC

(I thought of that – CK. That’s so my most favorite movie of all time. Edelweiss makes me cry every time. One time when I saw it, it didn’t make me cry. I don’t know why. Ooops….He’s back from the bar. More about me later.)

As I’ve said before, I love to see LCs whom I know after these shows. Also, I like to see anyone I don’t know because you never know. Know what I mean? Anyway, I like seeing Jim Moran, Suzanne, Susan, Jeroen Smeets (the Bass) and honorary LC Annelise so much that it puzzles me. I like people of all species but so did, for instance, Warren Harding. He loved the members of his cabinet and then they betrayed him. The man who would have been our greatest president was destroyed by his friends and admirers. That’s why I don’t let people get too close. I used to but I’ve been hurt too many times. I think now of Jim Moran and his smooth guitar playing ways and Susan looking like old money.

My father once had dinner with the family and my son Eric brought his girlfriend, Megan. He was meeting her for the first time. After dinner, when Eric left, of course we talked about her. I commented on what a nice girl she was. My dad said he hated her. I couldn’t believe it. I asked him why he felt that way he said that she looked exactly like the kids in this Irish family he knew who were the biggest Jew haters in Elmhurst, Long Island fifty years ago. I thought that was fair.

I did a different kind of show in Utrecht. I played Old Man, which I never do, and Davy The Fat Boy which I hadn’t done in a long time for fear of blowing my voice out and breaking glass and eardrums in the hall. I think Old Man is one of my best songs. I think I succeeded in that song in producing a piece of music that has no entertainment value. It’s the musical version of a stomach-ache. I’m retiring it from the stage until I’m playing for an audience I really hate. Look out Frankfurt!

I’m not happy with the literary quality of this up to now. I’ve been writing in character, the character of a bad writer.

We’re in Graz now. It’s really a beautiful town. It’s not in the mountains but my altimeter says that we’re at 1400 feet. After Holland and Belgium, it’s hard to breathe up here. I asked Cathy last night, over an expensive dinner. (She eats like she has two assholes – I don’t know how we stay so thin.)

I worry about how vulgar I am. Believe me. It would be easy to erase what I just wrote about Cathy but unfortunately, it’s true. I asked Cathy what her favorite albums of all time were but told her not to include any of mine. She didn’t. That’s what I mean about not letting people get too close. Though, wherever he is Tom Petty would be very happy. Wayne Newton too. No, her list was very impressive. Perhaps some day she’ll allow it to be published. Personally, I’m never going to talk to her about music again. She’s a big blond bully who loves AC/DC. Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

Bye for now.

THEY SMILE IN YOUR FACE AND ALL THE TIME THEY’RE TRYING TO TAKE YOUR PLACE.

–15 February 2004

THE WORST RECORD

I just heard on Klassic Radio the worst record I’ve ever heard.

Here’s a hint: It’s Josh Groban’s rendition of Don McLean’s “Vincent”.

–11 February 2004

THE WARS OF THE SPANISH SUCCESSION

Netherlands broke away from Spain more than 400 years ago but I think Spain has forgiven them. I had a few drinks with a Spaniard last night. I woke up this morning in silk pajamas tucked in as if I were in a hospital bed, all warm and toasty. There were 200 Euros on the bureau (that’s not a bad title for a song.)

It’s Saturday morning here in Amsterdam. I have three in a row coming up: Den Haag, Amsterdam and Paris (which could be either in Kentucky or France). The shows in Gronigen and Breda went all right. One’s in the north, one’s in the south on the Belgium border. A lot of long rides here in The Netherlands: You almost have to go over to their house to get them to come see you. They travel well but won’t do it. And yet, they’re the people I most love on this planet. Why? Because they love freedom and they love me, or used to anyway.

So, now I’ll let you in on a secret. I know that what I have written up to now is bad, forced and boring. You see, I do this on purpose. Ha ha!! Like the monkey I make of you. Ha!! As in Hesse’s Steppenwolf, I make the first part of this missive intentionally lacking my customary brilliance and erudition. Get ready to rumble now.

Once, my good friend Miss Bette Midler was touring The Netherlands. She had played four dates or so, and they were going to film a concert for television. Everything had gone smashingly well. They loved her in Utrecht, Rotterdam, Amsterdam and Eindhoven. [I love Bette Midler. If she came to my house and wanted to sing for me, I’d let her. The same goes for Mr. Steve Miller. A young artist whom I predict big things for. Ha ha. This part is bad too. Sometimes the balloon pops, sometimes it doesn’t.] They decided to film the show in Den Haag. Bette went out on stage within twenty seconds she knew it was going to be a long night. It was as if she had suddenly been transported to a stage in Kiel, which is in northern Germany and where the audience is often composed of herring or cod. Anyway, the audiences in Den Haag tended to be kind of reserved but last time I was there, it was fine. Bette thought someone should have told her that Den Haag would be different.

Every town in the world plays differently in some way. It’s amazing. They never laugh at Lonely At The Top in Philadelphia. There must be some reason but I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s not funny.

Well, unlike Hesse’s Steppenwolf, this essay in journalism and ethnomusicography never did get any better. The wind is howling outside my window and I must take it to the streets.

Why isn’t Steve Miller in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?

I’ll try my hardest next time ……. Randy

Note from Cathy:

I went to the Van Gogh Museum yesterday and then I got a manicure. Randy is too modest to say this but he got a great review in Die Telegraaf on Friday. Apparently, they love him in Gronigen.

–7 February 2004

Warner Brothers (2-45816), January 1995

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Varese Records (5988), November 1998

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Warner Brothers (9 25558-1), 1987

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Soundtrack by Elmer Bernstein. Songs by Randy Newman.

(Randy also appeared in the movie as “The Singing Bush.”)

All songs sung by Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Chevy Chase.

Varese Sarabande, April 4, 2008

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Randy conducts the Long Beach Symphony Orchestra as suites of his movie music are projected on screens for all to see! Photo by Doug Mazell.

WORLD WAR I REVISITED

Here I am in Europe. I’ve done two shows in Belgium. I think they went pretty well. I talk less than I do at home but they seem to understand everything I say; they just didn’t think some of it was that funny.

I think some cuts are needed. “Rider In The Rain” was a hit in Belgium. An actual “hit”. So I practiced it and played it. It’s hard to understand why it wasn’t a hit all over the world as is the case with so many of my songs. “In Germany Before The War” or “Back On My Feet Again” for instance. Anyway, along with the success of their women’s tennis program (the two top players in the world are Belgian – one Flemish and one French or Walloon) and my appearances in Antwerp and Ghent, there is a closer bond between the Flemish and the French populations of the country than ever before. I’m getting some kind of award from the Queen. I don’t know what. The trip from Antwerp to Amsterdam was 2 ½ hours. I only had to stop to pee once. I’m a young sixty. There was a Little Criminal in Antwerp but I didn’t get to meet him. If any of you come to a show come back and see me. Unarmed. To Gronigen tomorrow. It’s way up north but it would still be in L.A. County were I at home. It’s over 200 feet in elevation up there. I hope the altitude doesn’t cause me any problems this time. In passing, I met some very interesting cows and sheep just north of Breda. One of the cows had escaped from England during that bogus Mad Cow thing. He (she I guess – I don’t know much about cows) told me that he swam all the way to Holland from England but I don’t believe him (her). I’m staying in a hotel adjacent to the red light district. I sat in my window for three hours this evening. I bought a brand new purple light but attracted only some drunken German businessmen. There must be a better way to deal with loneliness. I want to tell you how good it made me feel to see Susan, Joan and Scott and all the other Little Criminals at UCLA. It was just about the best part of the evening for me to see all of you and have you meet my family.

By the way, I don’t know if I’m selling any tickets in Austria. It’s lovely this time of year. They love Americans too. Particularly Jews. Y’all come.

Love
Randy

Note from Cathy:
Sorry he didn’t write anything about me. Again. I know how interested you are in what I’m up to. They love me in Antwerp. Randy’s age is beginning to become a burden to me. He actually stopped to pee three times. And he called that nice cow a liar. Sorry no pictures yet. Power supply is on its way.

–4 February 2004