Perfect Song #8

This song begs to be cried-sung at the top of your lungs at 3am on the highway to a suburb of St. Louis where you’re about to shoplift from a 24-hour Walmart for reasons you still don’t truly understand, but you can chalk up to the kind of unacknowledged and unspoken rage that only an abusive relationship in your early 20s can manifest. And when you drive back to your apartment in South City wearing a new (and free) red bra, you think about its tags wrapped up in your old bra, stuffed under the dressing room bench while you listen to this song again, but this time you’re not crying. You feel a power growing in your hair.

Today’s perfect song is “Sitting” by Cat Stevens from the album Catch Bull at Four (1972).

I love Cat Stevens. I love his sweet and quietly profound songs. I love his smooth and distinct timbre. “Sitting” exists on another plane than the more widely known hits that we can all sing along to. The lyrical content is, quite honestly, too smart for my peasant analysis. But what I find really interesting is that the philosophical takeaways are really in the eye of the beholder. For example, this was a cathartic release of unexpressed anger and disappointment and fear and loneliness. It was my anthem for futility.

Just keep on pushing hard, boy, try as you may You're gonna wind up where you started from

Now, 15 years-or-so later, with a calmer mind, safer heart, and years of trauma therapy under my belt, this is still one of my favorite songs. When I’ve deemed many other great artists and albums as guilty by association and wouldn’t dare revisit them for fear of being dragged back to the emotional abyss, this song is now my anthem for acceptance.

Bleeding half my soul in bad company I thank the moon I had the strength to stop

In the thick of Covid lockdown, I listened to this song on repeat and it kept the embers of hope burning for me in a way that I can’t really articulate. Instead of thinking of his deliciously rough and aggressive vocal delivery as an expression of philosophical angst, it felt more like an impassioned declaration of life.

The core instrumentation is the piano, which is forte forte forte all the way through. Then you have the drums going absolutely apeshit, mirroring the urgency and strength in the melody, especially on the chorus. It makes me want to beat my chest à la Matthew McConaughey in The Wolf of Wall Street.

Did you know that wasn’t in the script? It’s just something that maniacal American treasure did in between takes and Scorsese was like, “Let’s put it in the picture, Matty baby!" (Citation needed.)

I know I already boldly claimed “Grey Seal” as my favorite song, but “Sitting” is a close second. It’s seen me through and it sees you, too. Give it a listen.

All I know is all I feel right now,

<3 Tonya