Cat Stevens
Harold and Maude

THE REVIEW

1)

The problem with Cat Stevens was that you associated him with those guys who always wore the right clothes, accompanied by almost blonde girls who would be more accurately, and more appropriately, defined as blondies.

However, it wasn't our charming cat's fault if those people were very “oh baby, baby it’s a wild world,” he merely wrote songs.

And those songs were simple and beautiful... and water, as we know, is drunk by everyone, especially if clear and pure... and the sun, well, let’s not even mention the sun...

In any case, you would encounter those people, besides at school, at those hilltop parties we were admitted to thanks to the beauty/glamour of some of my friends.

We always arrived late, haughty and scornful, with that look of “it’s clear, you little bastards, that we’re doing you a favor by being here.”

Ah, you should have seen us, or rather, you should have seen them, because I had little to no glamour back then.

The glamorous ones were: Orsetto, whom everyone then called lark due to his famous and thoughtful stationary dance; Talco, who years later was featured in a photo shoot showcasing all his wave brilliance; the master Urbani, who, I swear, resembled Jim Morrison, only better.

There you go, Cat Stevens reminds me, at first glance, of things like that.

But while Orsetto and his singing company simply despised our charming Cat without a doubt, I loved him, even if maybe just a little bit.

And today I think, and in essence, I thought back then too, that there are artists, like the Cat and like Battisti in Italy, who (damn!!!) everyone likes. And I imagine it’s because of those little things like the smallest common denominator of emotion or grassroots committees of epiphanies.

And even you, dear rock friend whoever-you-are, if you listen to the Cat (or national Lucio) you fall for it… maybe you don’t admit it, but you fall for it… and don’t say no, I know what I’m talking about…

2)

Then I remember the wise man (or if you prefer, my brother-in-law) who one day, when we were depressed, brought us a ball, one of those that could be taken apart into many little disks.

Like, imagine, those cool toys for very young children that were sold (and maybe are still sold) in pharmacies.

Well, the beauty was that you could take that ball apart and put it back together as you wished, and that’s exactly what we did, transforming it into a whole series of unidentified flying objects.

Then my brother-in-law, passing by, first smiled, then reassembled the ball.

“You can do what you want, but you won’t find a shape as perfect as this.”

I, to be honest, preferred the UFOs, and I even argued a bit with my brother-in-law… but deep down I knew he was right...

There you go, think of Cat Stevens as (or was) that ball…

And the ball is the simplest thing in the world... and simplicity is elegance, as the philosopher of the razor said...

3)

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of the simplicity of your songs...” once said director Hal Ashby to our friend the cat. And he added, “they’re beautiful because of this.”

The two worked together on “Harold and Maude” for which Cat Stevens did the soundtrack...

The movie is about Harold, a bored rich kid who stages fake suicides and attends funerals for fun...and about Maude, a sprightly eighty-year-old who always speaks her mind and has the gift of turning poetry into action.

Their meeting, like every meeting (if it really is a meeting) causes deep transformations...

Between black humor (Harold) and a whole series of small lights (Maude) the film is enchanting from beginning to end and the cat’s music fits perfectly.

Images and songs are two mirrors reflecting each other a damn sweet beam of light…

4)

The cat’s songs are morning songs…

And morning comes after night, but here it doesn’t seem so…

The one of the morning after the night is Nick Drake…

The cat is morning, and just that…