Randy Newman’s America (Radio 2) | iPlayer
Wimbledon (5 Live) | iPlayer
Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City: The Days of Anna Madrigal (Radio 4) | iPlayer
Summer days and hot nights mean dreamy audio. Sounds waft in and out of your brain, songs catch your mood and drift off like breeze-strewn pollen, voices chunter in the background, their meaning swimming into focus, then retreating. I’ve stopped listening to the news. I’m on another vibe.
I’ve not, of course, stopped listening to Randy Newman. He is the answer to most problems in life. His songs have got me through darker days than these and I enjoy his interviews almost as much as his music. Acerbic, generous, romantic, truthful, there’s not much that passes Newman by. In the first part of Randy Newman’s America, his two-part interview with Judith Kampfner on Radio 2, he used his piano to answer some of her questions. He sang. His voice – always creaky, almost crackling now – is more direct when solo, without his record’s swooning orchestration. “Goodbye old man, goodbye. You wanna stay, I know you do, but it ain’t no need to try. Cos I’ll be here and I’m just like you, goodbye old man, goodbye…” I was in bits. At the end, Newman said: “I screwed up a little bit there. It’s a very good song, I think.” I think so too.
Kampfner was respectful, well researched and knew when to stop talking, though her euphemisms were occasionally a little ridiculous: “It seems particularly brave of you to write some very loaded songs… about issues that are very complicated in America”. Newman filleted her questions and answered accordingly. He talked about Christianity and his favourite gospel music (“atheists are throwing little sticks against the battleship in terms of… feel”), picked through racism (“it’s not a surprise that many black people don’t like white people”), played parts of songs he’d edited out. He looked America in the eye and acknowledged its faults. “It’s like the civil war never ended at the moment.” The truth, honestly told, is rarely comfortable. But it is a comfort. I’ve saved listening to part two for the weekend as a treat.
The tennis is comforting, too, nattering away in the background, as inconsequential and gossipy as schoolchildren’s chat. The first day of Wimbledon was a stop-start affair, with drizzle stopping play on Centre Court. Eleanor Oldroyd was as brilliant as ever, and Wimbledon debutant Tony Livesey wasn’t bad either. I liked his newbie-ness: his delight when he discovered that players only had a knock-up if they’d missed 15 minutes of play. “I never knew that!” He had to find his way around. “I came up some spiral stairs,” he puffed, rushing back to the studio because a match ended suddenly. Chat: there was much speculation about players playing when they’re injured, some grumbling about grown men grabbing towels when they’re chucked into a crowd.
And another lazy listen is Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City: The Days of Anna Madrigal. For those of us who devoured the books, or listened to previous Radio 4 adaptations, it’s like catching up with old friends. Very old friends: Mrs Madrigal is 92 now and, as she says, her thoughts and past are becoming entangled. Modern times are here, with people “throwing shade” and wanting to get pregnant at Burning Man, and yet the series retains a sweet, older feel, the attitudes and memories of the 70s and 80s (and even earlier) colouring life at 28 Barbary Lane, San Francisco. If you don’t know the books, you might not like this series, but if you do... Tales of the City is like The Archers for the Aids generation. You never give it up.