So I'm supposed to be ALL IMPRESSED that CAT STEVENS "knows a lot of fancy dancers"?
Why is that such a big deal? He doesn't even say HOW he knows them. And he says it so matter-of-factly, in such a passing manner, like the rest of us will be all impressed and give him things.
Like ... give him things he would like, you know? Like a fancy braidworked leather guitar strap for his acoustic modern-day poet stringed siren-song maker, and the strap has these beautiful inlaid beads and little glinty diamanelles, and even some turquoise so it looks Southwestern.
Just because Cat knows a lot of fancy dancers I'm going to buy him one of those straps? Or commission one of these babies to be made for him? That's gotta be like 150 bucks minimum, to get one fancy enough to please Mr. Acoustic himself, Mr. "Saturday Night and I Ain't Got Nobody!" (except for his gd FANCY DANCERS, huh?)
Which is it, Cat Man? Why "ain't" you got nobody on a Saturday night?
Why don't you just PHONE UP ONE OF YOUR FANCY DANCERS, huh?
What happened to THAT little brag you tried to pawn off on our unsuspecting asses?
One of your fricking fancy dancers is sure to love that glamorous new guitar strap I made for your ass, huh? Probably get you a little peace-nookie out of the deal.
You unappreciative singer-songwriter, sitting there all splayed-legged with your fancy blue matching shirt-and-pants outfit with the BOTTOM of your shirt unbuttoned enough to show off your lame-o peace-sign belt buckle.
Who unbuttons the BOTTOM of his shirt to be sexier? HellLLOOO? Can you unbutton the TOP of your shirt, Cat?
Though I have to admit, your skinnyness and your open body language draws the viewer of your photograph into your dreamy face and aura quite effectively.
THAT'S what you SHOULD have sung, instead of "I know a lot of fancy dancers" -- you should have sung:
"i have a skinny bod and blue suit!
and i know, the rest of my beard is a mess ...
MESS, MESS, MEH-EH-EH-EH-essssss ...."
You know how those lyrics go.
I mean that's mean. Now I'm being unnecessarily mean to the Cat Man. Maybe I've been too hard on Cat this whole post.
I have to admit Cat's face looks super-gentle and poetic here.
His face -- his face has seen so much too, you know? In his life.
How can we meet some of these fancy dancers, Cat?
Suddenly I'm not mad at Cat at all. Suddenly I just love Cat.
THANK YOU. THANK YOU FOR THE MUSIC, CAT STEVENS.
Though he was bragging pretty bad about his damn fancy dancers, you have to admit.
But I'm over it now. We can be friends again now.
