It was 1977. Radio listeners across America were suddenly hearing a jaunty, piano-driven tune with a chorus that felt like a punch to the gut for anyone under 5'4". Randy Newman is the man who sang "Short People," but the chaos that followed the song’s release was something nobody—not even a seasoned cynic like Newman—really saw coming. It’s one of those weird moments in pop culture where the artist's intent and the public's perception crashed into each other at high speed.
Randy Newman didn’t just sing it; he wrote it, arranged it, and lived through the subsequent death threats. Seriously. Death threats over a three-minute pop song.
When you ask who sang Short People, the answer is technically simple, but the "why" is where things get messy. Newman has always been a master of the "unreliable narrator." He writes songs from the perspective of bigots, losers, and fools to highlight how ridiculous their logic is. But in 1977, a huge chunk of the population missed the joke. They thought Randy Newman actually had a personal vendetta against folks who need a stepstool to reach the top shelf.
The Man Behind the Piano: Randy Newman’s Satire
Newman wasn't a newcomer when Little Criminals—the album featuring "Short People"—dropped. He was already a "songwriter's songwriter." Guys like Three Dog Night had already turned his song "Mama Told Me Not to Come" into a massive hit. He was known for being biting, witty, and deeply Californian.
The song itself is catchy. It’s got that bouncy, ragtime-adjacent feel that Newman loves. But the lyrics? They are brutal if you take them at face value. "They got little hands / And little eyes / And they walk around / Tellin' great big lies." It sounds like a playground chant gone horribly wrong.
Why did he do it?
Newman has explained in numerous interviews over the decades—including a famous 1977 interview with Rolling Stone—that the song is a social satire about prejudice. He chose "short people" as a placeholder for any group that people decide to hate for no logical reason. By making the target so specific and, frankly, absurd, he hoped to show how narrow-minded bigots sound.
It backfired.
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Maryland actually tried to pass a law making it illegal to play the song on the radio. They didn't succeed, obviously, because of the First Amendment, but the fact that it even went to a legislative level shows how heated things got. People were genuinely hurt. They felt bullied. For a guy who just wanted to write a clever song about how stupid prejudice is, Newman suddenly found himself the most hated man in the height-challenged community.
The Studio Secrets: Who Else Is on the Track?
While Randy Newman is the face and the voice, he wasn't alone in the studio. If you listen closely to the backing vocals, you might recognize some very famous voices.
- Glenn Frey and Don Henley of The Eagles provided the harmonies.
- Timothy B. Schmit, also of The Eagles (though he joined later), was involved.
It’s a bit of an irony. You have the kings of smooth, laid-back California rock helping out on a song that was causing riots in the streets of Baltimore. The production is incredibly slick. It features Waddy Wachtel on guitar and Klaus Voormann on bass. These were the heavy hitters of the 70s session scene.
The contrast between the upbeat, professional musicality and the "Short people got no reason to live" lyric is what makes the song so jarring. It’s a bright, sunny day with a dark cloud sitting right in the middle of it.
Honestly, the song’s success was a bit of a fluke for Newman. He was never a "pop star" in the traditional sense. He was a guy who wrote film scores and niche records. Suddenly, he had a Billboard #2 hit. It was stuck behind Bee Gees' "Stayin' Alive," which is a hilarious mental image—the disco kings of cool vs. a guy singing about how short people have "grubby little fingers."
The Backlash and the Misinterpretation
We live in a world now where "getting the joke" is a point of pride, but in the late 70s, radio was a more passive experience. You’d be driving, the song would come on, and you’d hear a guy saying you have no reason to live.
Newman once told the New York Times that he underestimated the literal-mindedness of the public. He thought the bridge of the song—where he sings "Short people are just the same as you and I"—would clear everything up.
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It didn't.
Most people didn't listen to the bridge. They listened to the hook. They heard the "No, no, no" and the "don't want no short people 'round here" and they checked out mentally.
There were organized protests. People sent him mail. Angry mail. Some of it was from parents of kids who were being bullied at school using his lyrics. That’s the part that actually bothered Newman. He’s gone on record saying that if he knew the song would lead to kids getting picked on, he might not have written it. He’s a father, after all. He wasn't trying to be a bully; he was trying to mock bullies.
How "Short People" Changed Randy Newman’s Career
Before this song, Newman was a critical darling with a modest following. After "Short People," he became "The Short People Guy."
It’s a blessing and a curse. On one hand, the royalties from that song probably bought a nice house. On the other hand, it overshadowed a lot of his more "serious" work. Songs like "Sail Away" (which is about the slave trade) or "Louisiana 1927" (about the Great Mississippi Flood) are arguably much better pieces of writing, but they didn't have the shock value.
Eventually, Newman leaned into the more commercial side of things, which led him to Pixar.
If you ask a kid today who sang Short People, they probably won't know. But if you ask them who wrote "You've Got a Friend in Me" from Toy Story, they’ll know the voice. It’s the same voice! The same gravelly, soulful, slightly ironic tone that mocked short people in 1977 became the voice of childhood friendship in the 90s.
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It’s one of the great pivots in music history.
Does the song still hold up?
That’s a tough one. In a modern context, satire is a minefield. We are much more sensitive to lyrics that punch down, even if the "punching" is meant to be ironic.
If a new artist released "Short People" today, they’d be canceled before the second chorus. But because it’s Randy Newman, and because we now have fifty years of context for his career, we see it as a relic of a specific time. It’s a piece of performance art. He’s playing a character.
The character is an idiot.
If you listen to the lyrics with that in mind, the song is actually quite funny. It’s so over-the-top that it becomes surreal. "They got little cars that go beep, beep, beep." It’s ridiculous. It’s like something a frustrated toddler would say. And that’s exactly the point.
Actionable Takeaways for Music History Buffs
If you're diving into the discography of the man who sang "Short People," don't stop at the hits. To truly understand why that song exists, you have to look at the broader picture of 1970s singer-songwriter culture.
- Listen to the full album Little Criminals. It places "Short People" alongside songs like "Baltimore" and "Jolly Coppers on the Parade," giving you a better sense of Newman’s world-building.
- Check out the 1978 BBC special. Newman performs many of these songs live and explains the "Short People" backlash in real-time. It's a fascinating look at a man trying to defend his art.
- Compare the satire. Listen to "Sail Away" right after "Short People." You’ll see the same technique—writing from the perspective of a villain—applied to a much more serious subject.
- Read the lyrics to the bridge. "Short people are just the same as you and I / All men are brothers until the day they die." That’s the heart of the song. If you miss that, you miss everything.
The legacy of "Short People" isn't about height. It's about the danger of satire and the way music can be hijacked by its own audience. Randy Newman didn't hate short people; he hated the way people find reasons to divide themselves. He just used a very weird, very catchy way to say it.
If you ever find yourself in a karaoke bar and someone starts belting this out, just remember: you're listening to a song that almost got banned in Maryland. That alone makes it a piece of history worth knowing.
To dig deeper into the world of 70s satire, look into the works of Warren Zevon or Harry Nilsson. They operated in the same cynical, brilliant space as Newman, often writing songs that were meant to be laughed at and thought about, rather than just hummed along to. Understanding the context of the era makes the "Short People" controversy feel less like an attack and more like a massive, nationwide misunderstanding of a very clever man.