I don't care what his religion is, or what his politics are, Cat Stevens has the spirit in him. He always has.
Anyone who could sing, out of his original mind,
"They will vanish away like your daddy's best jeans,
Denim blue fading up to the sky..."
has the spirit in him. Like Dylan. In the sixties, everybody had the spirit. The music was tremendous. It's all gone, now.
Once, for about a year, all my thoughts took a poetic form. Iambic pentameter in my sleep. I wrote everything down in a journal. I'm afraid to look at it, now. Either it's gone, or I am.
Why am I going into this?
It's Sunday, Jake.
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