Wednesday, July 30, 2008

I love Randy Newman... I don't care what you say.

Most of the time, when I unashamedly tell people that I love love love Mr. Randy Newman (and am totally *in* love with him. Because I'm totally hot for genius), they look at me like I just told them I was way into Michael Bolton, or Kenny G or something. I think those people are retarded. I mean, yeah, he does soundtracks. To Pixar movies. It's true. But um, dude also wrote "You Can Leave Your Hat On." And like 85,000 other songs.

This is actually my favorite song ever. Not just by him, by anyone. It's proof that I have tear ducts, because I totally sob everytime I hear it:

When I was like, 2 or 3 years old- before my sister was born and we had to keep up with her nap schedule- my mom and I would drive all around Plymouth in her silver Chevy Citation with the navy blue pleather seats that stuck to your ass in the summer. We'd get breakfast at "The Mug and Muffin," and afterwards I sometimes got to get a rootbeer flavored hard candy stick (which was a huge deal because I wasn't allowed to have sugar). We'd go to all the little shops, and the old mill that they turned into a sorta-mall, and to the playground, and to the shore where they kept that big ol' rock, which I promise you isn't that interesting to look at. I'd practice counting to one hundred and speaking in a cockney accent. And my mom always, always played music in the car- lots of Lou Reed, Tom Waits, Aretha Franklin, Cat Stevens and Randy Newman. The Randy Newman is what sticks out the most for me, maybe because before I knew that "Sail Away" was about slave traders, it sounded like a lullabye- especially to a girl who was partial to sleeping on sailboats. My mom didn't know any, really- she sang Motown songs to get me to sleep. And this:

Which I think is partially responsible for my world view. It's strange, there's something about listening to the music you listened to as a kid that reminds you who you are. It keeps me from being hardened and cold all the way through, which is something I sometimes am afraid will happen, and something I occasionally wish for. It's difficult when you equate being hurt with not having been smart enough- especially when the thing you're most afraid of is finding out that you're not as clever as you think you are, because being clever is the only thing you were ever good at, besides singing, but you don't do that so often anymore unless you're drunk or alone because it makes you feel like a circus freak...

Gah. Oh, and this is my other favorite song by Mr. Newman. I couldn't find his version of it on the YouTube, so I'll post Bonnie Raitt's...

No comments: