Yusuf/Cat Stevens, "Tea for the Tillerman"

Mitch and the guys wish the Bobcat a happy birthday

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Mar 02, 2022

Mitch’s Pitch:

Most kids, especially sons, grow up thinking that their fathers are all-powerful beings, possessing unrivaled strength, skills, and, most importantly, the answer to all of life’s questions. At least that’s how I felt: my Dad Bob was a larger-than-life figure. He was unquestionably the best athlete at every sport, routinely schooling kids half his age on the basketball court, with giant arms and strong hands that could palm a ball or pinch an annoying kid’s thigh in the back seat. He could build houses like Bob Vila and fix cars like Click & Clack. He was always working and commuting, and yet he still seemed to possess unlimited time for me and my brother.

But I grew, and he aged, and naturally I learned the inevitable lesson that he was a mere mortal like the rest of us. I watched as the pain of existence started to chip away at this great man. I watched him grieve his mother and dedicate himself to taking care of his aging father. I saw successes and failures, victories and humiliations. But no matter what happened, no matter how bad things got, he never changed. It became clear that his true strength was never in his abilities, but in his character. He was always a mensch - a truly good man - who gave more than he took, and who always considered other people. Just about everything that I learned about how to live the “proper way” comes from him, and while I’ll never be as good of a person as him, at least I have something to emulate.

I took after my Mom’s side of the family - funny, red people with big mouths - and wasn’t given my father’s physical gifts. I was never the greatest athlete (except for HORSE - he drilled the fundamentals, baby!) and I have no interest in fixing cars or building houses. But I was given a much greater gift: an incredible father and a lifelong friend.

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Even as a kid I knew I was lucky to have my Dad, so I was always able to appreciate the song “Father and Son” from both perspectives. I can remember listening to Tea for the Tillerman in the garage in New Jersey where my brother and I would stand at opposite ends of the driveway and throw metal darts at each other, using only a dustpan for defense. It’s the kind of idiotic game that bored kids would play back then, and the kind of stupidity that helps make the Father’s point a little more convincing.

Given Yusuf’s association with the fatwa on Salman Rushdie (ironically, one of my favorite authors - go read Midnight's Children) it's weird to say that this album meant a lot to me philosophically, but it really did mean a lot to me philosophically. Then again, my favorite ballplayer growing up was Pete Rose (we had the same haircut!), so maybe I’m just bad at picking role models aside from my Dad.

So many of the songs on this album are about living a meaningful life that values relationships and spirituality above material possessions. The album is bookended with allusions to children playing in “Where Do the Children Play?” and “Tea for the Tillerman”, and he means it quite literally, as well as in prioritizing innocently living in the moment over striving for progress and achievement.

His attitude towards women was a welcome antidote to the usual misogyny in rock, with him looking for someone of substance that would accept him, and push him to be better in “Hard Headed Woman” and him wishing well to a lover, even though she left him and broke his heart, in “Wild World”.

There are a lot of great songs on this album beyond the hits, and Yusuf has a warm and distinct sound, with a strong, engaging singing voice. At times he can drift into music that sounds like it would be perfect for a Hare Krishna convention (“Longer Boats” feels long even at 3 minutes) but that genteel approach works really well on beautiful chamber-pop gems like “Into White” and “On the Road to Find Out”. Then again, as a former member of three yoga cults (Don’t worry, I didn’t know they were cults at the time, and I’m a terrible cultee, so no harm, no foul) my tolerance for ersatz-spirituality might be higher than most.

Yusuf has been forgotten over the years - fundamentalism is a tough career choice - but he’s an important figure in early ‘70s folk rock. Whereas most singer-songwriters like James Taylor and Jackson Browne seemed to operate from a highly personal perspective, Yusuf operates from a universal perspective, seeing himself as a part of something bigger, rather than being the center of the world himself. It’s an impressive lack of ego-centrism.

In retrospect, I guess I was learning the same lessons from my Dad and Yusuf at the same time: the importance of relationships over materialism, respect for women, and putting other people before yourself.

Today my Dad celebrates his 80th trip around the sun and what better way to celebrate than with a stroll down Newbury St., perhaps a nice brunch at Sonsie, and a sip of Tea for the Tillerman?

Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you.

Ken’s Response:

I have a son that’s graduating high school this spring, and heading a couple thousand miles away for college. So when Mitch announced that he’d be pitching Tea For The Tillerman this week, one of the very first albums I owned on vinyl, my mind went to the gorgeous and heart-wrenching “Father and Son” right away. I planned on writing about my relationship with my oldest son, the mistakes we’ve both made, the ups and the downs, and how I totally understand his desire to get out and start tackling the world on his terms. I will miss him every single day he’s gone, and hope that no matter where he ends up that we’ll always have that special relationship that only fathers and sons have.

Fathers reveal a lot about themselves even when they don’t intend to. I’ve known Bobby (Mitch’s dad) since the fall of 1987 and he’s become a father-figure to me. There was an incident back in the late spring of 1989 that forever cemented Bobby as the stern yet compassionate and empathetic man we love…and if you knew him, you’d love him too. I had this behemoth of a vehicle back then, a 1977 Dodge Diplomat, yellow with a brown roof. Not shockingly, it wouldn’t start one Saturday and it was precariously parked very poorly (by me) on the side of the street I lived on, and I needed to get all 12 tons of it back into my (slightly uphill) driveway. Mitch happened to be on his way over in his Dad’s newish Saab 900 Turbo, and after much deliberation and several attempts to push my Sherman Tank, we decided that it would be best to gently push the car from behind using the Saab. Yada, yada, yada…we smashed the right headlight to bits.

After driving back to Mitch’s house (I wasn’t going to let Mitch take that heat all by himself), we told Bobby one of the most ridiculous, made-up alibis we could think of and said we were playing catch with a baseball over the roof of my house and the ball hit the Saab and broke the headlight. I believe his exact words were: “I’m not buying that bullshit story. I don’t want to know. Don’t tell your mother. You’re paying for the headlight.”

In one angry rant, he both put us in our place and (with hindsight) he was also telling us that he was a teenage boy at one point too and we all do some pretty stupid shit. To be perfectly honest, he couldn’t have handled it better. Thanks Bobby, and a very happy 80th to you! I’ve got a nice bottle of scotch waiting for you next time you’re up north.

Hey, about that album. It’s really good. Give it a listen.

Pitch successful (Yusuf/Cat always loves a good Saab story)

CJ’s Response

When my oldest child (now 22) was a baby, she slept through the night for the first time at just eight weeks old. My wife and I couldn’t believe our luck, especially since most of our friends with newborns were happy to get two or three hours of uninterrupted sleep at that stage. Not wanting to jinx it, we followed the same bedtime routine every night from then on. First, we’d feed her, then bathe her, then put her in one of those super soft sleeper blankets. Then we’d lie on the family room floor with her and play soft, vaguely sleep-related music until she drifted off. There was Emmylou Harris’s version of “Mr. Sandman”, Carly Simon singing “Julia Through the Glass”, Mama Cass on “Dream a Little Dream” and our man Cat Stevens strumming his way through “Wild World”.

Apart from this huge hit, I was familiar with enough songs from Tea for the Tillerman to know that I was going to like the whole package. “Hard Headed Woman” was a college favorite. “Father and Son” was a summer camp standard. And “Where do the Children Play?” was part of a killer road trip tape that someone made for me. There were some nice surprises on here as well. “Miles from Nowhere” is delightful as are “Into White” and “On the Road to Find Out.” Cat’s guitar and his voice seem to blend together to become one powerful instrument on these tracts. If I’m being critical, Stevens falls on the sing softly and then briefly get VERY LOUD technique a bit too often. But as a favorite boss of mine used to say when we were getting overly analytical, now we’re just circumcising fleas.

It was impossible not to think of my daughter’s little round face smiling up at us as I listened to Tea for the Tillerman this week. Music is always evocative, but Stevens somehow manages to retrace your memories and draw out all the emotions you were feeling at the time. Even the ones you had forgotten. Like the fear I felt along with the joy as I lay on the floor next to my wife and daughter. Fear that we had brought this tiny creature into this wild world and that one day we’d have to let her go out into it on her own.

I just didn’t know that day would come so soon.

Pitch Successful (I’m okay. Just got something in my eye, that’s all.)

Mitch’s pitch was a piece of cake, and Yusuf/Cat Stevens’ Tea for the Tillerman has been added to the Newbury St. Collection.

The first cut is the deepest, so hop aboard the peace train to the comments section, and if you can’t keep it in, let us know what you think about Yusuf/Cat Stevens & Tea for the Tillerman.

Exile on Newbury St.

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