Bom Randy

Rip It Up, Issue 28, 1 November 1979, Page 14

B om Randy

Randy N«wman Born Again Warner Bros

Those who have followed the career of Randy Newman will know he is no ordinary composer. He creates stories of irony and humour, although sometimes the laughter is strained, a Tinle scary. He lives where others seldom tread (John Lennon'compared the Beatles with Jesus; Newman sang as God). Who but Newman would open an album with a hymn to the benefits of selfish wealth? I don 't love the mountains And I don't love the sea And I don't love Jesus He never done a thing for me I ain't pretty like my sister Or smart like my dad Ur good like my mama It's money that I fove Other . songs on . tsorn Again explore the quirky themes one has come to associate with Randy Newman Japanese and Russian spies infiltrating an unsuspecting America, transvestitism and exhibitionism, John Travolta clones up against real street punks, and (hilariously) the Electric Light Orchestra. Some of the best songs are the deceptively simple ones about not much at all family life,, old girlfriends, people caught up in the job of making ends meet. Newman’s consistent stance of detachment sets him apart from other rock songwriters. Even when he adopts the first person he remains the storyteller and not a protagonist. The diary approach to writing is not for him. Supporting some of the most literate lyrics one is likely to hear this year or any year is equally superb music. Every note seems selected for maximum effect, whether it be the pared down cocktail trio noodlings of “The Girls in My Life (Part 1)“ or the synthesised pomposities of “The Story of a Rock and Roll Band". - Bom Again is unreservedly recommended to those looking for more than just a he^d-bang. Ken Williams ' Fleetwood Mac Tusk Warner Bros Tusk is an unresolved paradox. It is almost like two albums (apart, this is, from being a double), as if there was an abrupt shift of direction during its preparation. This could account for its being more than two years since Fleetwood Mac’s last album’, Rumours, and its remarkably high production costs (reportedly about $1.2 million, although no doubt a fair bit went to the name photographers who contributed to the overdressed packaging). Of the album’s 20 songs about half are written by Christine McVie and Stevie Nicks, shar-j ing the burden more or less equally. The effect' is of deja vu. There are Christine's aching, : "love hurts’* blues ballads and Stevie’s coun-

trified laments. The singing is probably as good as these two get and the instrumental support is as strong as ever, but it is rather too familiar. The remainder of the songs (nine, in fact) are the work of Lindsey Buckingham and they are a jolt. Propulsive and energetic, they rescue Tusk from any accusation of fatigue, while at the same time underlining the lack of adventure in the other tracks. Buckingham’s songs for Fleetwood Mac have always been strong in rhythm, but it is stressed to the near-exclusion of melody, as in the title track, which has added support from the University of Southern California Trojan Marching Band. It is not that Buckingham’s songs are so peculiar, rather that alongside the more conventional approach of McVie and Nicks they can sound downright weird. Or more to the point is it that the modes of McVie and, especially, Nicks have languished, but the structure of the group requires a sharing of the songwriting profile? If so, it's a pity. The, dichotomy sits uneasily. Ken Williams