[ P O L n e w m u s i c f e s t i v a l ]

These days, Newman is more of an all-round performer and, according to the introduction to this year's festival of new music in Frankfurt, also paints and composes music for the piano. One of his works was played last night by a young Canadian musician, as a warm-up for the main event.

The piano piece was tuneless, and set the tone perfectly. ``We're now going to do a cycle of ten songs,'' Newman said ominously. He then kicked off his Hush Puppies, wriggled out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor, and launched into the first song.

Reading from some sheet music, Newman began reciting a stream of consciousness that included phrases like ``My life's a lie, and I'm so depressed,'' or ``I got up and went for a shit.'' One song, called ``Dirt,'' was about eating large quantities of chocolate biscuits (a secret vice, it seems), while another contained the priceless couplet:

``My dick has gone away
``It doesn't want to come out to play.''

At the end of each song, Newman paused dramatically before dropping the lyric-sheet onto the stage and picking up the next one. By the end of the evening, he was surrounded by paper. Johnny Rotten, eat your heart out.

Sadly, not everyone stayed that long. A few songs in, a sweet old lady who's clearly misread the programme notes brushed past Newman on her way to the exit.

``Off you go then,'' he said, with the sort of smugness you'd expect from someone who called his first band ``Janet Smith.'' The other 100 or so people in the audience roared with laughter, which didn't really stop until the performance was over.

After completing his ``cycle,'' Newman and the Canadian pianist bowed and left the stage, only to return for what Newman described as an ``optional encore'' (which, of course, wasn't.)

By now, of course, the joke had worn rather thin. Mercifully, though, Newman kept the song short, and we all trooped off, resisting the temptation to rip up the discarded song-sheets on the way out.

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