This is the kind of question that fills me with joy, because if Sam cares what a song is about, he's clearly engaging with it. In the case of Moon Shadow though... I really don't have an answer. I have an idea... but it's not one that Cat Stevens, Yusuf Islam or Steven Demetre Georgiou appears to agree with. Neither is it an interpretation I see echoed by online "experts". Does this mean I'm wrong?
Any number of poets, writers and lyricists will tell you that when they let their words out into the wild, it's not up to them to enforce an interpretation on the audience. Some writers actively refuse to discuss the "message" behind their stories, preferring to allow the individual reader or listener to infer their own meanings. Sylvia Plath wrote...
"Once a poem is made available to the public, the right of interpretation belongs to the reader..."
Nick Cave agrees, saying that when he writes songs, he wants his listeners to come to their own conclusions. He refuses to "take away their power by attaching my own meaning to them".
This is the power of art - we add our own connotations, beliefs, prejudices, life experiences and emotions when we consume it. As I often tell my students: in English, there are no right answers. You just need to be able to explain your own interpretation so that it makes sense to someone else. They might not agree with you, they just need to be able to see how you've arrived at your conclusions.
Moon Shadow, then, is not - for me, at least - "softly tailored folderol from Cat Stevens [which] shows his whimsical side". Nor does it persuade me to "See life as it is, right now, and [not] compare it to others' lives, or other times in your life." Neither am I convinced of any religious message behind the lyrics, despite Stevens' later conversion from Christianity to Islam. Although interestingly, when that conversion took place, Yusuf Islam stopped singing any of his old Cat Stevens songs... except this one, which he later claimed was his favourite.
In 2009, Cat Stevens tried to explain Moon Shadow to Chris Isaak...
"I was on a holiday in Spain. I was a kid from the West End – bright lights, et cetera. I never got to see the moon on its own in the dark, there were always streetlamps. So there I was on the edge of the water on a beautiful night with the moon glowing, and suddenly I looked down and saw my shadow. I thought that was so cool, I'd never seen it before."
Which all sounds very positive, doesn't it? Over on the tube of you, people agree. Some call it "the ultimate optimist song". "There's something about the imagery of total freedom and dancing under the moon," says an old 'hippie kid', "which appeals to my wild self." Another youtuber, who says the song got them through a very dark period, explains, "this song is like, 'No matter how dark it gets, it can always be worse... but there's always light".
If you want to consider alternative interpretations to songs, youtube is definitely the place to look. In the past week, quite a few American commenters have suggested Moon Shadow as "the official song of the 2024 solar eclipse". While someone else can be found reminiscing over the time it was used in an episode of Airwolf with Jan Michael Vincent. This was my favourite though...
"Now I know why Moonlight Shadow sounded better in my childhood. It was actually Moon Shadow!"
And let's not forget this quirky little reimagining: an animated fairy tale devised by Cat Stevens and narrated by Spike Milligan in which a boy and his cat attempt to rescue the moon when it falls out of the sky...
Faced with this overwhelming barrage of evidence that Moon Shadow is a sweet, life-affirming tune... am I the only one who finds it creepy? And by that, I mean creepy in a good way. Creepy in an excellent way!
Yes, I'm bein' followed by a moon shadow
Moon shadow, moon shadow
Leapin' and hoppin' on a moon shadow
Moon shadow, moon shadow
Have you ever seen the movie It Follows? To me, the Moon Shadow is like the monster from that film. Some kind of weird supernatural entity that's following Cat around, menacing him, threatening to rob him of his hands, his eyes, his legs and his mouth...
And if I ever lose my hands
Lose my plow, lose my land
Oh, if I ever lose my hands
Oh if, I won't have to work no more
And if I ever lose my eyes
If my colors all run dry
Yes, if I ever lose my eyes
Oh if, I won't have to cry no more
The interweb suggests all this graphic body horror is linked to the time Cat Stevens almost died from tuberculosis back in 1969. His recuperation led him to reconsider his spiritual side, and may well have spurred the fears voiced in this song.
And if I ever lose my legs
I won't moan, and I won't beg
Oh, if I ever lose my legs
Oh if, I won't have to walk no more
(Meanwhile, back on youtube, there's always some Debbie Downer ready to spoil the party...
"All I can think of is the videos I have watched from Palestinians. The boy with no arms, a missing leg (and a missing foot and ankle on the other side). Listening to this, the day after the opening of the trial in The Hague. That tragic genocide has ruined this song for me.")
And if I ever lose my mouth
All my teeth, north and south
Yes, if I ever lose my mouth
Oh if, I won't have to talk
It's great that Cat can remain so upbeat - defiant, even - while being pursued by this vicious phantom... but maybe that's because his motive isn't escape. Let's not forget, this Cat is armed and dangerous...
Oh yes. And here comes the Edgar Allen Poe twist... the Cat wants to get caught!
Did it take long to find me?
I asked the faithful light
Oh, did it take long to find me?
And are you gonna stay the night?
Hooohahahahahahahaaa. Imagine those lines delivered in Vincent Price tones and maybe you'll get where I'm coming from. It's worth noting that Cat amps up his own delivery here, adopting a much more in-your-face singing style than the alluringly amiable tone he uses for the rest of the song. For me, that's the bit that confirms all my theories. Suddenly the tables are turned and the hunter becomes the prey.
"This song is really weird, dad? What's it about?"
It's about monsters, son. Monsters that want to eat - your hands, your eyes, your legs, your mouth. And it's about how to catch them... and make them pay.
While writing last week's post about my love of a good old cup of Joe, I realised that I have hundreds of tunes in my library about said beverage... any excuse for another occasional series! This one will just be a chat, like we're sitting in a coffee shop together, shooting the breeze, maybe talking about the songs they're playing in the background, maybe ignoring them and talking random shit instead. And for those of you who don't like coffee (like Martin), I'll make sure other popular beverages are available too...
Is there a better one minute song than that? Seriously, if there is, I want to know about it. I mean - look at the way it builds! I can think of 8 minute album track epics that don't develop as well as that does... and then it's gone. It's perfect... although I can't help but wonder if it would have been better if it had carried on... or if the effect would have been lost with the addition of another three verses.
Louise left her scarf at the cinema during half term, so Sam and I called back there on Saturday morning to see if they had it.
"Hi," I asked the happy chappy checking e-tickets on mobile phones, "do you have a lost and found?"
"Yeah," said Stephen Patrick Morrissey's slightly less affable younger brother, "but you'll have to wait till I've checked all these people in to their films."
There weren't really any people waiting, just a couple going through the options on the automated booking screen. Eventually they finished buying their tickets and strolled over in a leisurely fashion to be checked in.
"I suppose you better come with me then," said the gushing usher, leading us through to a dingy corridor and a door with a security code lock on it. When he opened it, we could just about make out a huge pile of coats, bags and other misplaced miscellany dumped on the floor in the corner of what looked like a cleaner's closet. "You can have a look in there, if you want."
"Is there a light?"
"No."
And so we began to rumble through the jumble. Every time we found something that might have been vaguely scarf shaped, we had to hold it out into the corridor where there was just enough light to discern vaguely recognisable details. Eventually we found the right one and went home.
"Thanks so much," I said as we left, "you're a life-saver!"
There was no reply as the gloomy flunkey shuffled back to his post.
One final thing before I leave you to your day - what the hell have they done with Google Maps?
They've changed the look so you can now see individual buildings, tiny little house and office shapes rather than just the blocked out areas of grey that used to represent buildings. It's very distracting when you're driving (and I rely on Google Maps far more than I used to, purely because I'm often on a tight schedule to get to and from work after dropping Sam off or picking him up from wraparound club).
Now I find my attention drawn not to the blue line representing my route, but to all the little shapes - is that really the shape of that house I'm driving past? Is their garden really so big? Is there a block to represent their garden shed? Does the new housing estate they're building show up, or is it still a field? If I have a crash sometime in the next few weeks, I'm telling my insurance company to call Google for compensation.
It makes me wonder about the future too... how much more detail can they add to these apps? Will we soon have live satellite surveillance zapped into our phones? Will we be able to see people walking down the streets, stray dogs cocking a leg at tiny lamp posts, our own car pootling down the road, as seen from above? How much of it do we actually really need? I'm not so much of a luddite that I can't admit to finding Google Maps more useful than my trusty yet tattered old Road Atlas... but where does it all end?
We live in a democratic household. Therefore when one person
says he doesn’t want a dog but the other two members of society vote against
him, he better be prepared to get in line. To be fair, Millie the cat was on my
side, but apparently her vote doesn’t count. Or perhaps it’s my vote that
doesn’t count? Millie doesn’t seem overly concerned with democracy, as long as it
doesn’t affect her right to hide under the bed and never come out again, an
option I have considered, but ruled out because there’s too much dust under
there.
So now we have a dog: a cockapoo called Bertie. And he’s an
adorable little fellow who I’m sure I’ll come to love, if I don’t already… but
I still don’t want a dog. I don’t want the weight of any more responsibility.
Being responsible for a child and a mortgage and a job is already more than I
can bear. Because with great responsibility comes great stress, and zero power.
I don’t know if any of this makes any sense, but I write it down to get it out
of my system. As always.
I need to get my act together for Bertie though, and for the
rest of society. He’s already had a rough ride having been taken in by one
family and then returned to the breeder after a couple of weeks because their
jobs changed and they couldn’t handle a puppy anymore. My heart goes out to
him, and to all puppies going off to new families, rolling the dice on whether
they’ll get a good one or not. We’ve got to do our best by him, and if that
means dragging myself out of my latest slough of despond (or at least keeping
my surface hid, just like Pagliacci did), so be it.
"They hypnotized the summer, nineteen seventy nine"
Meanwhile, Alyson offered Elton John: Are You Ready For Love ('79 Version)… except, according to my research, Alyson, this would be '76 Version. If you're aware of a '79 version, I can't seem to find it. But feel free to bring it back 3 weeks hence.
Martin has known me longest though, so wins the 1979 award this week with his suggestion: Veruca Salt - Spider-Man '79. Clue - if there's a song with Spider-Man in it, there's a good chance I'll like it. However... that still wasn't my choice for this week.
The Swede offered the only non-year suggestion this week. And let's face it, if you can't have years, then streets are always a good second best... Humble Pie - 79th Street Blues. Let's be careful out there!
Onto this week's winners then, and from my record collection... still avoiding years wherever possible... it was a toss-up between two songs. The runner-up was this...
Here, the 79 appears to be a room number in a hotel where The Cat had an assignation with a somewhat disreputable young lady.
This week's winner, though, was this, from the eponymous debut album - never bettered - by Vampire Weekend. M79 is a bus route in Manhattan...
78 next week, and a couple of obvious non-year suggestions spring to my mind... one of which I suspect will be very popular with some of the usual suspects... but the other might well be my pick.
Summertime and the living is easy. Perhaps not as easy as you lot keep proving the answers to Saturday Snapshots to be...
I think Rigid Digit took it again this week. I tried to mix it up a bit by changing the start time. Maybe next week I'll start it at 5am and see who's up then (Brian?). Well done to the rest of you who worked hard on the rest though - the winner isn't always the one who gets up first and nabs the easy ones. The true winners are the ones who work at hard the tougher ones... sometimes discovering answers involving bands you've never heard of (so top marks to Alyson for #6).
I guess I shouldn't be surprised by how many Captain & Tennille fans there are reading this blog. Or maybe just people who once they've seen The Captain... have had many, many sleepless nights as a result.
10. Young Strummer wasn't a pretty boy - and he didn't think much of you either.
I was jolted awake at 5.55 on Christmas morning, not by Sam's excitement over Santa having visited, but by Louise
saying, "there's someone downstairs playing Christmas music". With my heart pounding, I got out of bed and crept to the
top of the stairs from where I could hear the sad refrain of Judy Garland wishing
us a merry Christmas.
With visions of (at best) a burglar with a
sick sense of humour or (at worst) a blood-drenched psychopath in a Santa
costume, I ventured downstairs to discover...
The kitchen radio on at full blast.
Burglar?
Psychopath?
Poltergeist?
Or hyperactive kitten standing on top of the on button?
As I've already done My Top Ten Kitten Songs, here are ten kitties...
The Presidents are well and truly hacked off with their kitten...
Kitty up and scratch me through my jeans Fuck you, kitty you're gonna spend the night Fuck you, kitty you're gonna spend the night Fuck you, kitty you're gonna spend the night OUTSIDE!
Racey and Darts in the same top ten? I can still irk those musos when I want to.
Sing it after me:
Ooh ahh ooh ahh, cool, cool kitty...
1. Bruce Springsteen - Kitty's Back
Those of you who know about such things will hardly be surprised to find this early Bruce number holding off all challengers at Number One. I song I loved so much, I named the novel I wrote for my English degree (my excuse for a dissertation!) after it. My tutor was scathing... but I scraped at 2:1.
Coming up on week three and this is proving the hardest (albeit most rewarding) thing I've ever done in my life. Fortunately, I'm still taking lessons in fatherhood from my record collection...
While I have a lot of time for a great deal of 70s chart guff... this hasn't aged particularly well. Yes, kids, there was a time when all pop stars dressed like Chicory Tip...
An off-cut from the legendary SMiLE sessions, finally released in 2004, made even more special by the fact that it serves here as an intro to Surf's Up, one of the greatest Brian Wilson / Van Dyke Parks songs ever.
Can you recall
How you took me to school
We couldn't talk much at all
It's been so many years
And now these tears
Guess I'm still your child
Out on the moors
We take a pause
See how far we have come
You're moving quite slow
How far can we go
Father and son
Maybe a little bit of a cheat but there's both a Father and a Son in the link above and this is just gorgeous. Not that my boy will ever have to worry about his old man being described in these terms...
Couldn't see his used up body at the funeral
By virtue of the flailing of his conquests
They tied down his casket with the garter belt
Each troubled heart was beating in a sequin dress
Someone must console these lonesome daughters
No written word or ballad will appease them
1. Johnny Cash - Father and Son
Written by Cat Stevens, ruined by Boyzone... resurrected and immortalised by JC (with a little help from Fiona Apple). I love the original, but this version just floors me...
Sam and his mum are finally home from the hospital so my time is pretty full...but here's another list I prepared earlier. Ten songs celebrating the arrival of a new life... sort of.
10. Lloyd Cole - Brand New Baby Blues
Obscure b-side, not available to listen to anywhere on the internet, but still a damned good song.
Tomorrow, Robert will hop a train and come back newborn. I dread to think what the fare will be for that. I hope he booked well in advance for a sizable discount.
8. Morrissey - At Last, I Am Born
The song Moz wrote the day after finally getting a shag.
I once thought that I had numerous reasons to cry
And I did, but I don’t anymore
Because I am born, born, born
And you think you have a problem with door-to-door salesmen and Jehova's Witnesses? Just be glad you've not got Art Alexakis singing through your keyhole.
The idea of a song written from the perspective of a newborn baby sounds like cheese on a stick. Thankfully, it's Bright Eyes... not Sting.
Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange you said everything changed
You felt as if you'd just woke up
And you said "this is the first day of my life
I'm glad I didn't die before I met you
But now I don't care I could go anywhere with you
And I'd probably be happy"
I've already posted and will post a lot more songs dealing with what it feels like to become a father. This is one of the best I know about what a mother goes through...
Shakin' all over like an old sick dog
There's a needle here, needle there, tremble in the fog
It's a tight squeeze, vice grip, ice and fire
Hot little treasure and the wave goes higher
1. Elbow - Newborn
I'll be the corpse in your bathtub...
...isn't, perhaps, the most romantic opening to a love song... but that's Guy Garvey's gift: to find beauty in the bleakest of places.
Remember when the Stereophonics had potential? Every time I listen to a track from that superb debut album, I shake my fist at the sky and scream, "WHAT HAPPENED!?!"
Written back in the "great" depression,
recorded by everyone from Bing Crosby to George Michael to Mandy Pantikin (Saul from
Homeland!) but it's Thea's version that breaks my heart.
OK, I'm bending the rules with this once, since the lady in question isn't without a home to call her own. Then again, neither is she that other kind of tramp. And let's face it, I could hardly leave it out. Although Frank's version is best, look who else recorded it...
This came very close to hitting the top spot, and on any other day it might do. It's also one of my favourite men & women bickering songs (one day I'll compile a list), basically just one big argument between Otis and Carla, with some hilarious trash-talking and zinging comebacks. My favourite is the bit where Carla calls Otis a tramp for not being able to afford to buy her all those minks and sables and stuff she wants and Otis replies, "I can buy you minks, rats, frogs, squirrels, rabbits, ...anything you want, woman." to which Carla comes back, "Look, you can go out in the Georgia woods and find them, baby." Makes me smile every time I hear it.
I seriously consider this to have one of the greatest first verses of any pop song ever written.
I was born in the wagon of a travelling show My momma had to dance for the money they'd throw Papa would do whatever he could Preach a little gospel, sell a couple of bottles of Dr. Good...
But what do I know?
Which one are you taking with you when you hit the road, Jack?
