Randy Newman's newest release Bad Love is his best work in a long time. This is vintage Newman. Although he hasn't increased the range of his unusual voice, Newman's knack for articulating eccentric points of view from within the not-always-pretty melting pot of American culture is stronger than ever.
There are some real gems here, from the nostalgia-tinged, affectionate "My Country" to the hilarious but too-close-for-comfort history lesson "The Great Nations of Europe" to the breezy and embarrassingly honest "I Want Everyone to Like Me." The album is like a mixture of Norman Rockwell, Stephen Foster and Aaron Copland, with a pinch of Ralph Steadman thrown in to liven things up.
Newman is unquestionably one of the great craftsmen of American popular music, and I've long admired the range of his musical capabilities. Not only does he write entertaining songs, but he also uses his impressive skills as an orchestrator and an arranger to enhance and place songs in their appropriate settings. The orchestral accompaniment in "My Country" is a great example. The song starts with a nostalgic plea to "turn back the hands of time," and then becomes a slow, majestic march with John Philip Sousa-like flourishes of snare drum and flutes in the chorus. The picture he paints is far from perfect, and he gets in his licks--"We got comedy, tragedy, everything from A to B"--but his affection for American culture is unabashed.
Newman's songwriting has long been considered quaint, and this disc has its moments. Probably the most twisted cut is "Shame," a shuffling, rambling monologue of a lonely man trying to convince a young woman--a hooker?--to share herself with him. It ranges from the self-pitying to the insulting, from "I call you up at midnight sometimes I must admit" to "God damn it you little bitch," and is punctuated throughout by a female Greek chorus wailing "Shame, shame, shame"--until he tells them to shut up. As is the case with many of Newman's songs, I wince at the same time I laugh, and then wonder why I'm laughing.
"I'm Dead (But I Don't Know It)" should be required listening for any artist who can't let go of long-since faded accomplishments. From the opening "I have nothing left to say, but I'm going to say it anyway" to "When will I end this cruel charade? Everything I write all sounds the same," this song pokes its finger in the eye of every over-the-hill pop star who won't go away. And it can't help but make you wonder about the standards Newman imposes on his own work.
Although generally known for his quirkiness, Newman also writes sentimental, squeeze-the-tears-out love songs, and "Every Time It Rains" and "I Miss You" are both excellent examples of this. In fact, "Every Time It Rains" may well become a classic of this genre. I wouldn't be surprised to see it recorded by a wide range of artists, although perhaps I've been swayed by the perfection of the arrangement. It opens with solo piano and a touch of string orchestra; the main body of the song then proceeds with Newman's plaintive voice accompanied by piano, bass, and beautifully understated guitar and drums, with a just a touch of organ in the background. The string orchestra fades back in, builds to an emotional peak, disappears, and then comes back to carry the song to its conclusion.
"I Miss You" is an achingly personal song, providing a glimpse into the psyche of someone who's ended a long-term relationship. "You must be laughing yourself sick up there in Idaho, but I wanted to write you one before I quit--and this one's it. I miss you." This is presumably written to his former wife Marie, the inspiration for the song of the same name that has long haunted me from the classic Good Old Boys album.
I think my favorite cut is "Big Hat, No Cattle," a country western ditty in which the narrator cheerfully admits that ever since childhood he's tried to be something that he's not, and that he lies through his teeth to everyone. It's the music, I think, that allows Newman to convey such a sense of cheerfulness, even with his dry, clipped articulation--although he giggles once or twice in his delivery. The pedal steel guitar and background vocals help this song lope along into the sunset, along with some tasty electric guitar fills and corny-anywhere-else harmonic modulations.
A word or two must be said about the production of Mitchell Froom and Tchad Blake, which is excellent. They've created a dry, stark backdrop for Newman's songs, and exhibit an increasingly deft brush technique along with a colorful sound palette. Using everything from solo electric guitar flourishes to screaming electric guitar choruses, from synthesizer washes to the wail of the pedal steel guitar, they keep the ear of the listener engaged. It would be fascinating to know where Newman's ideas left off and Froom's and Blake's picked up, and vice versa. For example, the skating-rink organ, cocktail lounge piano and cheerful tempo of "I Want Everyone to Like Me" is a wonderful setting for the confessional lyric. I would love to have been a fly on the wall during these sessions.
Put this disc in a time capsule -- it's that good.