Cat Stevens' Father And Son.

There is something about the melody. There is something about his deep, heavy, pulling voice. There is something about the line, “From the moment I could talk / I was ordered to listen." 

Listening to Father and Son is like eating at a gigantic, delicious lastima buffet. I am stuffed from the words and the notes that I can’t help but consume. I play it on repeat. I can’t stop. I am so full.

Maybe I’m imaging it, but Cat - or shall I say Yusuf Islam (his new name since he converted to Islam) - was feeling some major lastima when he wrote this song. He was writing about the tender, tangled, titanic relationship that exists between a child and a parent. He was writing about himself, but in the end it became about you and me. He was writing about love, and it doesn’t get more universal than that. He felt for everybody, he felt everything. And then he set it to music.

I wonder about him now, Yusuf. Is he happy? Will he play and sing again? Does he feel more like the father or the son? I guess there’s only answer: he knew he had to go away.

p.s. I hate buffets.

p.p.s. "You will still be here tomorrow / but your dreams may not.” Oh, Cat!