NEWMAN'S KNOWING NOTES.

Byline: Rob Lowman Daily News Entertainment Editor

Midway through his first set at the House of Blues on Wednesday night, Randy Newman tells the crowd to feel free to sing along on his next song. The tune, though, is from his new DreamWorks album, ``Bad Love,'' which comes out next Tuesday, and so most of those in attendance haven't heard it. But Newman is confident that they will eventually get it anyway.

He then launches into ``I'm Dead (But I Don't Know it),'' which, though new, is classic Newman - a wry, ironic and, of course, amusing take on on being a too-long-in-the-tooth pop artist.

On the album, the song starts with a heavy rock beat. ``I have nothing left to say/but I'm going to say it anyway,'' he sings. ``Thirty years upon the stage/I hear the people say, `Why won't he go away?' '' When he sang the refrain ``I'm dead but I don't know it,'' a background chorus echoes back ``He's dead/he's dead.''

In concert, though, it was just Newman and his piano, and so he did his own background. Sure enough, by the end the crowd was singing ``He's dead/he's dead.'' Ironic, huh? But Newman is the king of irony.

With ``Bad Love,'' the singer/songwriter's first studio album of songs in 11 years, the 55-year-old Newman proves he's anything but dead artistically. Unlike those of most of his contemporaries, Newman's tunes have never become dated because they cover the spectrum of American music - from Stephen Foster to rap - all in his distinctive style. (How much credibility do you have singing ``Street Fighting Man'' when you're living in a chi-chi world?)

Actually, it was a pleasure to see a live concert, considering that most shows today are programmed to sound like the records. Dressed in a short-sleeve print shirt, khaki pants and tennis shoes, Newman sat at the piano and told funny stories, changed some of his arrangements, replayed a passage or two to emphasize a point and even made a few miscues.

He interspersed about six of the songs on ``Bad Love'' with his older material, and despite an 11-year album gap, it's mind-boggling to look at the depth and breadth of his output in his more-than-30-year career. Most people know the funny ones, like the sometimes misunderstood ``Short People'' ``Political Science'' (with the refrain ``let's drop the big one now'') and ``You Can Leave Your Hat On.'' ``When I wrote this song, I was a kid and thought it was a joke,'' deadpanned Newman, ``But as I get older, I take it more seriously.''

But Newman can tug your heartstrings, even while undercutting your expectations. Part of this is Newman's voice, which sometimes sounds like a drunk's but other times, despite its limitations, can sound achingly plaintive as he did on ``Marie,'' ``Feels Like Home'' or ``I Want You to Hurt Like I Do.''

The other part is the tension between the music and the words that he often creates in his songs.

Take ``My Country,'' off his new album. The music and chorus are as stirring a tribute to America as I've ever heard. The picture he paints, though, is one of a people ``watching other people living'' on TV and unable to talk to each other. Yet when he sings, ``This is my country/these are my people/this is the world I understand ... I know it like the back of my hand,'' you'd be hard pressed not to get a lump in your throat.

Or in another new song, ``I Miss You,'' which is an apology to a long-gone loved one, he says he's writing it because ``I couldn't allow myself to feel the loss that I feel right now.'' But then he admits ``it's a little bit cold'' that ``I sell my soul and your soul for a song.'' Sincere and self-serving may be real, but are rarely in love songs, yet when Newman repeats ``I miss you'' over his piano arpeggios ... well, move over ``My Heart Will Go On.''

Just before the end of the concert, an attractive 20-something couple wandered in and sat at a table near me. He had on a white shirt with the top buttons open to reveal a tan chest; she wore a short, clingy dress. They seemed unaware that a performance was going on, babbling on, oblivious to the music or the fact that they were being rude to those around them.

They reminded me of a line from ``I Think It's Going to Rain Today,'' an early Newman song: ``Scarecrows dressed in latest styles with frozen smiles to keep love away.'' When Newman broke into his biggest hit, ``I Love L.A.,'' the women suddenly started wiggling - dancing would be overstating it - and singing while her companion swayed his shoulders to the music. They both shouted loudly, ``We love it!'' as Newman sang out street names like Victory Boulevard.

While the song is often seen as a celebration of the city, it is as much about L.A.'s garishness, shallowness and insensitivity. When it ended, the couple went back to their self-absorbed ways, chattering through Newman's encore, which included, yes, ``I Think It's Going to Rain Today.'' It's a Randy Newman world after all.

THE FACTS

The show: Randy Newman.

When: 9 tonight.

Where: House of Blues, 8430 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood.

Tickets: $40.

Information: [phone].

CAPTION(S):

Photo

Photo: In a House of Blues solo-performance stand that continues tonight, Randy Newman mixes his hits with songs from the new ``Bad Love'' album.