We’re on a train going from Glasgow to London.  The shows have gone well I think and I’ve learned an enormous amount about each country we visited.  For instance, Spain, apparently, had a civil war just like our own.  This is not a joke. In their civil war other countries joined in on opposite sides.  The British Poets and Authors, as in World War I, fought on the side of Good.  Funny story: Anton Webern, the composer, was killed on the last day of World War II! (NbC: Huh?)

I hate to say this but the people in Spain, the Spaniards, didn’t seem particularly happy. Or maybe, they just weren’t happy to see me!  People in Finland, Norway and Denmark seemed happy and quite content.  I hope I’m not generalizing too much.  I don’t think so.

Cathy lost her key today and while she was looking for it in her suite (NbC: Hah!), she found a golf club, a golf ball, a putting machine, and a cap.

Last night, after the show in Glasgow, Bo, who up ‘til now has confined his drinking to late morning, decided since he was in Scotland he wanted to taste the best single malt available. So he did and we watched him do it.  It was great.  We talked to the whisky guy about noses, tops, bottoms, hoofs, mouths, and finance.  There really was something special and complicated about the single malt whisky he drank.

The buildings in Barcelona don’t have any conventional corners.  The entrance faces the corner so theoretically you wouldn’t know how to decide what street the building is on.  It could go either way.

(NbC:  zzzzz) …… and we saw some churches too.

The last couple of nights have been different because we were playing to an English speaking audience.  I don’t get any of those courtesy laughs anymore.  They understand for sure what I’m saying.  Can’t fool them, no sir. I’m not happy with the quality of the journal this time.  I don’t know whether it’s me or someone else.  Every time I get what I think might be a good idea, good in the literary sense, Someone pops up with a question about grammar or fashion and sometimes, yes, even about getting paid for participating in this enterprise.  Little does she know.  She’s in for a real surprise because I’m learning to type myself.  I just typed this part. (NbC:  That’s a lie.)  Look for my blog.

Do you remember at the start of the tour when Cathy ate bear?  Well, last night, she drank a blond beer called Bitter and Twisted.

All my love,

Randy

PS: If you don’t hear from Bo or me again, please tell the authorities about a person of interest.

PPS: I don’t think I’ll play Yellow Man any more.

I once had a friend who had leg troubles. One leg, I think, was shorter than the other. I too have that problem but it hasn’t stopped me from making something of myself. Anyway, this friend of mine sent out a Christmas card with a picture of an orthopedic shoe but without his name. Unfortunately, no one knew who the card came from. Cathy, in the previous journal entry, made the same mistake only worse. She thought everyone would know that “NbC” meant “Note by Cathy.”

Just played the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. (NbC: Currently, the Euro is at $1.26.) I played here almost 40 years ago. There, now you can figure out how old I really am. There are about 25 red steps that lead to the stage from the balcony. I went down the steps to the stage and I made it. Does everyone look at their feet when they go down the stairs? I’m not going to joke around any more. For some songs the audience applauded during the intro as if they were hits. Birmingham, for instance, and Lonely at the Top. I think I had two albums that sold inordinately well here. I saw Suzanne and Jeroen back stage after the show. Jeroen is still a basso profundo. Suzanne is not a basso profundo but is nice as ever. (NbC: He said he wasn’t going to be funny anymore.)

I played Eindhoven yesterday. It was once, and still is to some extent, a factory town for Philips Electronics. I think it was the best show so far. When I played here before I found it difficult to make the audience laugh much. Maybe their English wasn’t quite as good as in Gronigen say. (NbC: It’s time for sound check ….)

Speaking of the journal, Cathy just reminded me about the hotel in Brussels. It was odd. We arrived in the afternoon – my wife Gretchen, Cathy, Bo, and I – and a guy checked us in. We went upstairs and the same guy brought the bags up. A few hours later I had to send some laundry out and the same guy came up to get the laundry. Went down to dinner and there he was again as maitre d’ and waiter. After we ordered he said, “I’ll go prepare your meal” – this is in a big hotel you understand – either there was a strike or a major holiday, it’s hard to figure. I went to get a massage the next day and I went to the spa desk and he wasn’t there but he soon arrived and gave me the best and most meaningful massage I’ve ever had. Jack was his name as in jack-of-all-trades perhaps. Gretchen has gone home but I’m glad to say that Jack is still with us. We smuggled him out of Brussels into Holland and dropped him at a hotel here in Turnhout.

Today is a day off. I took a walk up the river. I never noticed how beautiful this city is. The canals, the bridges, the boats. It reminds me of Los Angeles. The other night after the show in the Concertgebouw the guy who manages the theatre was standing with Cathy and Bo watching the people exit. After a while, he said to Cathy, “So many men! Usually it’s closer to 50/50.” I found that a little disheartening. One time, Lenny and Russ, my producers, made a mock promo with Harry Shearer, later with the Simpsons, it opened this way: “Newman! Music men like.” Maybe they were right. I should’ve written more love songs. The love songs I do write, for instance, Emotional Girl, Bad News From Home, Same Girl are as much about the narrator’s character as about the Beloved or the “relationship”. I think I don’t see myself as a Romantic Hero though I am one.

The answer to last week’s question is Leonard Cohen and/or Miss Joni Mitchell. Here’s another: (remember 5 Euros to the Foundation in Tulsa) Should I ever again play Yellow Man in Belgium?

The answer is no. Explain.

More about Gretchen’s European Vacation later.

Love

Randy

We — Cathy, Bo Jacob, and I — are on the road.  It’s nice to be out here making music with my friends.  Bo hasn’t toured with us for 25 years.  He lives in Virginia.  He’s about 5’9”. He looks good to me now.  He took a government job and for some years was in the CIA.  He’s got some great stories.

Here’s what I had for breakfast: (NbC - I’ll edit this.)

….at least, that’s what I told the Finns.

Anyway, we’ve had a show in Helsinki, one in Oslo and tonight we play Bergen.  I’d never been in Helsinki before.  They had a big bookstore right near the hotel.  In Los Angeles, you hardly see a bookstore any more.  You also don’t see this many young people with white hair.  It’s not true that they look like Eskimos.  Though strangely enough, I seem to be a big favorite among the Eskimo population in these countries.  I’m playing Santa’s workshop in the fall opening for Joni Mitchell, one of my all time favorite singer-songwriter philosophers.    Naturally, given the nature of what I do on stage I have to worry about English proficiency.  In Scandinavia everyone speaks English.  For the Finns, it’s a necessity, I guess.  The only language Finnish is related to is Hungarian.  (NbC – I’ve heard him say that 20 times.)  We went to a restaurant in Helsinki. Inadvertently, Cathy ate some bear.  You are what you eat. Inadvertently, I ate some reindeer.  It sickened me to think of what I’d done.  Bo ordered Bunny Rabbit and ate every last bit of it.  (NbC – Now he’s hopping around like he dropped a big crmjed on his phlaktost! sp?)

I used to perform in Scandinavia years ago.  The promoter was a guy who was connected to Abba in a fortunate way.  He never made any money on my shows.  He didn’t need to.  Finally, after a slow night in Stockholm, even he said, “Vramt! (Enough!)” And we haven’t played there since.

There are no clocks in any of the hotel rooms that we’ve stayed in.  Maybe they’re right.  Speaking of the hotel room, a funny thing happened. I turned on the television in Bergen some while after we’d checked in. (NbC – like about 20 seconds)  I couldn’t change channels with the remote.  It said to fill in the room number.  At first I thought it was for some paid service but after awhile I put the room number in.  Let’s say room number 1.  When I entered it, I saw that it was indeed a paid service.  Do you think I should call down to reception and cancel the service, which I’m getting for free?  Send your answers to the Newman Foundation in Tulsa OK along with 10 Euros.

Bye for now,

Randy

I’m dictating this so it may not be any good. The last Journal From Europe is justly famous for it’s wit and insight. No, actually it isn’t. I’m beginning to forget things.

We played Vienna two nights ago in the Opera House.  It went well particularly considering it was the first show.  It’s the 250th anniversary of Mozart’s birth so it felt right for me to be there.  It seemed that I should commemorate the birth of my late colleague by actually playing in the town that treated him so badly.  They treated me better than they treated Mozart, Mahler, Berg or Schoenberg. (Cathy can’t do the umlaut.  She also can’t do a kip or a front walkover which I can do and will do in Montreaux. I’m 52 years old but still as spry and flexible as I was when I was a boy.  Look out ladies!  And gentlemen too!)  They’re doing a Mozart opera called Albertina, which he must have written when he was 3½ .  I’ve never heard of it.  I think they should make sure that it’s not actually by Elton John.  But seriously, they really should check it out.

I did a new song in Vienna called “Losing You”.  I think they liked it.  I’m not sure about the form of it yet.  Also, here’s another great thing I did. (Note by Cathy:  I can’t take much more of this.  He pretends to be so modest but he thinks he’s so great.) Since it was the Vienna Jazz Festival, and what I do is pretty far from jazz, (NbC: I’ll say.  The place was sold out and the people who were there to hear some good jazz are still there waiting.)  I played another new song, one which isn’t finished, so I had to kind of improvise like they do when playing jazz.  It was kind of shitty but they took it well much as they did when Hitler marched into the city in 1937.  They may not have liked it but they showed great enthusiasm.  The song is going to be good though.  It’s called “A Few Words In Defense Of My Country”.  I’ll try and get it together so I can play it in Europe where we need defending.

I have a show tonight with Dr. John at The Tower of London.  I hope it goes okay and they release me when I’m done.

Bye for now.  Look for my World Cup Special tomorrow.  Send five Euros to the Newman Foundation in Tulsa, OK and find out who’s going to win the Cup.

Love to all the Little Criminals.

Randy

7 July 2006

We are in Rimini in northern Italy. We have a day off tomorrow due to too few Slovenians being interested enough to pay a week’s salary to see me perform for seventy-five minutes. My feelings aren’t hurt.

Personally, I’m unaffected by this Balkan dis. But, I must admit that I am embarrassed for my country. When I played Slovenia last time we stopped to look at the site of an old concentration camp near the Austrian border. I let it go. But this pisses me off. We (I use the plural not in the Imperial sense but to include Cathy who is an important part of the Newman team – without her the whole delicate mechanism we work so hard to perfect would collapse, and be as “dust in the wind”) are playing Verucchio on Monday. The people of the region are reacting to the news of my show in much the same way that the Slovenes did, but I’m going to Verucchio and I’ll play whether they like it or not. I have feelings too.

We played Montreux on the night of the World Cup Final. I don’t know how many people were out there but they seemed to like the show. I saw the end of the match. When Italy won everyone in the town went crazy until four in the morning. There was just a big fireworks display out of the window of the hotel. The weirder the road gets the better it is at this point in my life.

I played at a castle in Udine. Udine is northeast of Trieste.  And is still in Italy. Trieste has been in so many different countries it reminds me of Herbie Hancock with whom I shared the stage at the North Sea Jazz Festival in Rotterdam. I saw Susan, Suzanne and Jeroen backstage after the show. I love seeing them. The show was sold out I think and went very well. I always try my hardest in Holland. Rotterdam sure has a big port. It ought to be a hotel in Las Vegas.

I was just in Las Vegas for the first time in many years (NbC – apparently he doesn’t count that show at the House of Blues) there was a charity auction up at Pixar for a showing of “Cars” and I bid for, and won, a trip to Las Vegas and tickets to see O and Ka, Cirque du Soleil shows. My brother is retiring from Medicine. I thought this would be a nice gift for his wife and him. I mention all this because I very badly want to say something about O and Ka. I said many of the things I want to say under my breath and finally quite loudly at the shows themselves. But I find that I am not yet ready to put my thoughts into writing. I will say this: I can play several pieces from the show using only my nose and my buttocks. Sometimes I put on tights, put out some dry ice and just run around as if I were mad! My brother is the best Newman we’ve had so far. It was great to see him and as you may have noticed, I’m a better person because of it.

A word about the title of this entry, there are a lot of things in this town named after Fellini. I think he was born here maybe. Anyone who knows, send your answer to the Newman Foundation in Tulsa, OK along with five Euros.

Grazie.

Randy and Cathy

16 July 2006

We’re in Nice on a day off. Ahead are two more shows, one in Stuttgart and one in Lörrach. My fellow geography bores will be interested to learn that Lörrach is just barely in Germany. It’s right on the Swiss border so I expect it to be strict but the hotel service should be good. The Swiss and the Germans have very different sense of humor. They both like ice shows however.

I may make some jokes about the Austrians. Speaking of Austria, one of my sons had a girlfriend whose stepfather is a Hapsburg – the heir to the throne in fact. The Newman family has never flown so high. Alas, the relationship is over and I have no hope of becoming a Von or Zu. (NbC – like the Von Trapp family) Cathy never gets too far away from The Sound of Music except in dealing with Gary Norris.

The show in Verruchio was in a small cemetery next to a castle. The audience was very kind and I had fun up there. We ate in a restaurant in a building from the 13th century. It looked pretty good. Apparently, they didn’t know they were in the Dark Ages. I know some Italian. I kept making sporadic attempts to communicate in the language. I would say, for instance, “io sono paura”, which means, “I am afraid”. I know I was saying it right. They would repeat it back to me exactly as I said it. This constantly recurring phenomenon made me paura. Neil Young can play to 80,000 people in Rome or Milan. I don’t think I can yet.

I played the Blue Note Jazz Festival in Ghent. I actually played some jazz by the way when I made a mistake in the instrumental break in “Simon Smith”. There was a lot of stuff going on in the street all the time. The town was having a street festival too. I was taking a walk the day after my show and I saw a guy scraping my picture off a pole. I said, “Hey you son of a bitch, what do you think you’re doing? The show may be over, but I think the people here in Belgium would still like to have my picture on their pole.” He just kept scraping and I walked away. If I’d had a weapon, like he did, I would have defended my honor even though I have a bad wrist and a torn left bicep.

The show in Ghent was in a tent

The rain that fell was Heaven sent

It was so hot I quite forgot to bring an extra shirt

Were’t not for Cathy who knows at what cost

All sense of decorum would’ve been lost

For I would have had to go on without a shirt

Which would’ve weakened the impact of some of the love songs.

Ghent, Newcastle and Lucerne were all sold out (NbC – He’s lying. Newcastle was almost sold out.) Here and there I’ve been doing this new song which I haven’t finished, “A Few Words In Defense Of My Country” or….”On behalf Of My Country”. See? It’s not finished. I probably shouldn’t be playing it. I’ve never played anything that wasn’t done before. It gets some big laughs but it’s not right yet. Lucerne is a beautiful town with a lake and a river in it. I’d like to live on a river someday. I lived by a creek once. It flooded and tore out our garage and almost got the whole house. The weather is changing. I think the earth is going to get hotter in the years to come. It’s hot in Europe and it’s hot at home. (Something is happening and you don’t know what it is…do you Mr. Jones? Or as I heard Bob do it the last time I saw him play, “xhdisodlnmufklhjduvkgjhdhekgsjcpojkdheydjkkfkgirifkhrhwgdyejeskufhg, Jones.” That’s the seventy-five dollar version.)

The audiences in Switzerland and Italy applaud when I play the intro to Dixie Flyer. It must have been used in a feminine hygiene commercial or something. I sure as hell didn’t sell any records in Italy. By the way, I finally found an audience, two of them actually, who like “Red Bandana”. (NbC – Sad to say, he’s wrong. He keeps playing it, I’ve told him not to. I don’t have the heart to tell him that only one person likes the song, the man in the mirror.)

Gateshead is across the River Tyne from Newcastle. Newcastle is Alan Price’s hometown and he wrote about it a lot. I owe him a great deal. He recorded some of my first songs and did them very well. He had a hit with “Simon Smith”. The first of three hits I’ve had. Anyway, he’s a great guy and it was good to see where he came from. I met someone who went to school with him. I’ve become a regular Chatty Cathy, haven’t I? I just go maundering on and on. (NbC – on and on and on and on and on…just like the song) I know that these entries would be more interesting if I talked more about the shows but I have more important things to tell you. For instance, this morning here in Nice I sent out some laundry and some dry cleaning. I have some concern for some of my show costumes. Sometimes they come back deep fried, like a chicken fried steak. Once, in Israel, which is very unlike Switzerland in the dry cleaning department, they over cooked six white shirts which were irretrievably damaged. That’s why I find it so difficult to know who to root for in this war they’re having. I’m not anti-Zionist but poor dry cleaning is often a symptom of a deeper malaise. To me it shows lack of national character. All the fire power in the world doesn’t make up for one burned up shirt. I’m pissed off. I saw Hazel, Alyce, Alistair and many other LCs including, Martin Figura who gave me a book of his poetry. I’ve read some of the poems and liked them very much. He’s talented. Someone we know may be using some of Martin’s ideas in another medium. As always, and as I always say, and I always mean, I love seeing the Little Criminals after a show. At all these European shows there are autograph collectors who stand outside for sound check and before the show and sometimes at the hotel. I don’t even know if they know who I am. At Gateshead, I signed autographs going in to the show, when I came out this little guy came up to me. Cathy said, “You already signed for him.” He said, “No! I wasn’t here before.” He was irate. Anyway, Cathy and I got in the car and went to the hotel that was about ¼ mile away. The guy beat the car there. I told him (he was Irish) that he’d just broken the Irish 200 meter record. I signed and invited him up to the room to spend the night. I love great athletes.

Last night we played the Nice Jazz Festival. I went on one stage at the same time Kanye West was on another. I like his stuff. It’s young and alive, just like me. It was also kind of annoying but the show went fine. In some ways, I think it was the best show I’ve done because it was late and I couldn’t quite figure out the crowd but I think they ended up liking the show and for the most part I made the right choices about what to play for them. Ballads were tough sometimes. Jesus walked right through a couple.

Let’s have a little fun before we go. Of these two artists which is your favorite: Kanye West, Joe Jackson or Randy Newman? Send your answers to The Newman Foundation in Tulsa, OK along with 5 Euros. Look for results here!

Love

Randy

24 July 2006

(I THOUGHT OF THAT – CK. EXCEPT IT’S NO HOLIDAY AND I’M NOT WITH CARY GRANT…..FAR FROM IT)

Pronto da Italia. We’ve been here so long that I’m finding it difficult not to think in Italian! Bear with Us. (He spoke Italian on stage in Rome. At least that’s what he thought it was. After the show he asked the woman from the Italian record company how his Italian was, she said he should never speak Italian again and if he knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t – CK).

The shows in Dublin and Edinburgh went very well. The audiences were great. Apparently they speak English in both Dublin and Edinburgh. I don’t know whether it helped me or hurt me. I’m going to be funny in a minute. I feel it coming. (I don’t – CK) We saw Susan, Jim, Scott and the new Little Criminal who looks like Paul McCartney, but younger. Show business is easier than most real jobs but the road isn’t that easy. Ask Jim or Susan. I’ve been playing Laugh And Be Happy, I’ll keep doing it until I get it right. One need almost be a virtuoso to traverse the complexities of the piece. I’ve shown it to a number of concert pianists. (Pollini, Uchida) They refused to even attempt it. They wouldn’t even talk to me. That’s how hard it is.

Bad news, LCs. Kathy (I did that on purpose) and I are fighting. Why you might ask? Did I try and corner her in an elevator again? Did I inadvertently bump into her in an airport line? Not this time. She persuaded me to play Rider In The Rain in Frankfurt. Need I say more? Knowledgeable fans will understand. Two and a half minutes of unmitigated horror unequaled since Murnau’s “Nosferatu”. I’ll talk to her again when I need something. For instance, I can’t find any socks. I played Zurich, Frankfurt and Rome after Edinburgh. These shows were not sold out. In each town, it was the holiday about which I’ve spoken so often, whereon the peasants of the town go to the theatres dressed as empty seats. (In spades – CK) As you know, I am an Optimist, also an Elk and a Mason. I choose to see the glass as half full rather than half empty. The shows may not have been sold out but luckily I wasn’t trying my hardest anyway. The tickets were expensive too! That’s not my fault. I swear it isn’t.

We had a great tour of Rome by a driver named, Antony, who was Indian but born in Rome. He still admires Mussolini though he admits he did some bad things. How can a big country like Italy have one man own all the television networks, the most important soccer team and run the country? I don’t understand it. There’s a comedian in Italy named Dario Fo. I saw him on television years ago. You won’t see him on television now. He does a stage show in which he makes fun of Berlusconi. I think that’s a good thing.

Hey! Don’t you know I’m just kidding? Berlusconi is a good friend of mine and I object to nothing he’s done. I’ve benefited greatly just by being a close, personal friend of this Great Man. He and I palled around during fashion week in Rome. Got some great stuff. (He’s babbling. I’m going to try and get out of here without having to use my side kick – CK) I’m sorry I split so many infinitives and did other bad things to the language. Eoio sono stanco. Ciao bambini.

Randy

I’ve enjoyed writing these reports for you and as I’ve told you before it means a great deal to me to know you’re out there. When I write songs again, to a greater extent than you might ever believe, it will be for you. I’m glad so many of you seem to like each other and if I’ve been the agency by which some of you have been brought together, that makes me greater than I already am. If the public only knew. Neil Young doesn’t do stuff like that. I have nothing against epileptics but come on. Neil Young once drew 80,000 people in Italy and he doesn’t speak a word of Italian (I won’t say anything – CK) Love to all of you.

–29 February 2004

(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

(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

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

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

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