IN APPRECIATION: NEWMAN'S TALENT RUNS DEEP.

Byline: Rob Lowman Daily News Entertainment Editor

I'll say it flat out: Randy Newman is the best songwriter of the past 40 years, perhaps the best American composer, period.

This isn't as big of a stretch as it may seem. No doubt people will throw out names from Bob Dylan to Philip Glass, but while not denying the genius of either one, neither possesses the range of Newman, who can make you laugh and cry within a two-minute song, or move you with one of his magnificent, imaginative film scores.

Take one of his early songs like ``Maybe I'm Doing It Wrong'' from his 1971 ``Live'' album. It almost sounds like a throwaway ditty (and, compared to most of Newman's work, it is). But in the love-the-one-you're-with, sexual-braggadocio era, it was refreshingly - albeit painfully - honest while at the same time funny. (``Sometimes I throw off a good one/Least I think I do/Least I hope I do/Shouldn't be thinking at all.'') And yet this humorous take on sexual angst runs less than 1-1/2 minutes and still speaks volumes.

The economy of Newman's work is especially noteworthy when you consider the mindless, self-important drivel that has often been praised as ``insightful'' lyrics. That economy extends to Newman's music and his musicianship. Russ Titelman, who has worked on many of Newman's records, calls him a ``truly great pianist.''

I remember reading a review some 20 years ago by a critic from another Los Angeles paper (he is still there, by the way) that was critical of Newman's piano playing. I couldn't tell if this critic was trying to act like he really knew something about music or was just simply clueless. Unfortunately, the latter was the case. If you ever watched Newman play, you know he can effortlessly slide from style to style, from the highbrow to the lowbrow, and somehow make it all his. It's too bad an influential critic can't recognize subtlety and economy.

The public has often had trouble getting Newman, too, which is why he's never had the sales he deserves. His songs are like short stories, and the ``I'' in them refers to the characters he creates, whether it's a bigoted redneck, a money-loving yuppie, a child molester or a slave trader. Unfortunately, we're so used to confessional singer-songwriters, people mistake his characters' prejudices for the real Newman.

``He is the funniest, most tongue-in-cheek guy in the world,'' says singer Valerie Carter, who has worked with Newman. ``To me, Randy could have an amazing stand-up career ... And it's a really wacky, unusual sense of humor. But Randy is exactly the opposite of that, and that he's just making fun of the whole thing is the way I see it.''

But not everybody sees it that way, and Newman's satirical barbs are sometimes too sharp for some people. The release of ``Short People'' in 1977 drew public protests from those who thought he was ridiculing the vertically challenged.

No, it was clearly ridiculing how we stereotype people, a theme Newman has returned to a number of times. Ironically, the ``Little Criminals'' album that ``Short People'' was on was Newman's best-selling record, and it become a Top 10 hit. (We'll never know if the public got the joke or a lot of tall people bought the album.)

But more importantly, Newman goes beyond mere irony in both his music and lyrics, and his characters include ordinary people trying to make sense of their lives. In ``Marie,'' from the ``Good Old Boys'' album, Newman's character (presumably a good old boy from down South) needs to be drunk in order to confess his own frailties and to tell his wife how much he loves her and how much he means to her. It's a song filled with pathos and compassion, with a lovely melody that recalls bygone days.

And while his songs are often about the American character, the music itself is very American. Within it you can hear echoes of Stephen Foster, Irving Berlin, Scott Joplin, Aaron Copland, Fats Waller, George Gershwin, Hoagy Carmichael and others.

Listening to ``The Natural,'' the simple melody in the prologue reminds you of the sublime simplicity of Copland's ``Appalachian Spring,'' while the soaring horns (remember when Robert Redford hit the big home run?) recall the majesty of Copland's ``Fanfare for the Common Man.''

This is all from the guy who wrote ``I Love L.A.'' While the Windy City has the insipid ``My Kind of Town (Chicago Is)'' and the Big Apple has (yawn) ``New York, New York,'' the City of Angels has a song that not only rocks but celebrates the craziness that makes L.A. such a great, fun place to live.

Starting out in the intro with a reference to Cole Porter's ``The Lady Is a Tramp'' (``Hate New York City/It's cold and it's damp.''), it soons segues into a driving piano and a driving obsession:

``Roll down the windows/Put down the top/Crank up the Beach Boys/Don't let the music stop/We're going to ride it till we just can't ride it no more/From the South Bay to the Valley/From the Westside to the East Side/Everybody's very happy 'cause the sun is shining all the time/Looks like another perfect day/I love L.A.''

OK, so Newman's having fun with our image and lifestyle, and the City Council's not going to like the reference to a ``bum ... down on his knees.'' But this is the home of Tinseltown, and wouldn't you like to have a city song that was actually entertaining?

Randy Newman - you gotta love him.