Pop

Randy Newman. Randy Newman's a weird dude, what with songs about burning rivers, and fat freaks, and an epic about slavery, as well as Three Dog's own Mama Told Me Not to Come. He's got the warped perspective I've approached, but never duplicated. Forced, to sum him up, I'd say this: If he was my friend, and I had to introduce him to someone, I'd say: This is Randy Newman, one of the five weirdest people I know. His critical (not commercial, by any means) success has to be attributed to his imagination, coupled with an authentic mild musical genius -- he is an excellent arranger and composer, even if he has no voice to speak of. I would go to see him just to hear him sing, "Cleveland, city of magic/Cleveland, city of Light." That's just sick.

Tom Rush. Rush has it easy. He lives on a big farm up in New Hampshire, and just comes down every three months or so to play one show or so at Symphony Hall to make enough money to keep him in booze and food for another three months in the hills. But I once ran into him by the Post Office on Mt. Auburn Street, and he was real nice, even remembering how I'd gotten him to autograph a copy of Wrong End of the Rainbow so I could give it to a friend. He also sat still to let me take some pictures. Tom Rush sings other people's songs well, and I sure can't fault him for that. Because it's just enough to keep him in booze, food, and New Hampshire, an unbeatable combination. F.V.B.

Randy Newman. Symphony Hall. Thursday, April 12, 7:30 p.m. Tom Rush. Symphony Hall, Friday, April 13, 8:30 p.m.