Concert Review: Randy Newman, October 11, at the Folly Theater
The Folly, Kansas City
By JASON HARPER
The churning of phlegm, the soft rhythmic padding of orthopedic shoes, the moist thock of ice cubes in a plastic cup of whiskey, a woman repeating to her husband what the man on stage just said. Hoarse laughter. Whiffs of wafting flatulence.
The youngest person at Saturday night’s Randy Newman show at the 108-year-old Folly Theater in downtown Kansas City was Randy Newman. The oldest: Randy Newman. A slouched, profane amalgam of Mark Twain, Professor Longhair, L.A. coke parties and Bertholt Brecht, singer and songwriter and composer Newman has the voice of a young man — when he speaks. Maybe it’s his California accent, forever young. When he sings, his voice is still as gooey, buttery and nasal-nougat-filled as it was when first applied to vinyl some 40 years ago. And his songs nowadays are every bit as wicked, probably more so.
Photo by Michael Forester
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