Randy Newman knows what it's like to be confused.
"Sometimes at the movies I've gotta ask my kids what the hell's going on," said the veteran songwriter and Oscar-winning film composer. "I'm real loud in the theater: 'Wait, who's that guy?'"
So although he has always delighted in using his records to set up trap doors of intent _ as in his oddball late-'70s hit "Short People," in which a jaunty groove belies the bitter sarcasm of the lyric _ Newman is sympathetic to anyone seeking a firm grasp on what exactly he means.
"Apparently, my songs are complicated enough," he said with a laugh. "Add a complicated arrangement, which is what I do, and it doesn't always help for understanding."
Thus was born his series of "Songbook" albums, on which Newman, 72, performs his tunes by himself on piano. The first volume was released in 2003 featuring stripped-down renditions of "Rednecks" _ sung from the soured perspective of a Southern bigot _ and "You Can Leave Your Hat On"; a sequel followed in 2011 with "Yellow Man" and "Baltimore."
On Friday, the Los Angeles native released a third volume containing some of his best-known tunes, including "Short People" and "I Love L.A.," as well as a four-disc box set collecting all the "Songbook" recordings and a handful of bonus tracks.
Looking back at his work, Newman said the albums hadn't just offered his listeners a crack at comprehension. They'd also given him an opportunity to fix some things.
"I've made mistakes with arrangements, certainly. 'Baltimore'? I overcooked it," he said, referring to the rather grandiose version of his song about that troubled city that appears on 1977's "Little Criminals." "But I did what I thought I should at the time."
Last week, the singer took a break from scoring an upcoming movie to discuss four of the tunes he remakes on the new "Songbook" album and a classic released years after the fact by Barbra Streisand.
"Love Story"
The first song on Newman's self-titled 1968 debut, "Love Story" sketches a scene of tidy domesticity _ which, considering his age at the time, immediately marked him as a songwriter interested in exploring more than his own feelings.
Q: You're not exactly tapping into some huge passion here.
A: It's an impoverished kind of dream to have: just sitting around on the couch, occasional dancing if you're not too tired, then going away to Florida and dying.
Q: How serious were you at the time about the attractiveness of that vision?
A: Not at all. I suppose there's some sort of security to it, but it's not a dream that any 22-year-old would have, when you're young and the world's straight in front of you.
Q: And how about now?
A: Doesn't look so bad from this end. Given my age and given the times, it's a pretty solid life. Not a cloudy sky.
