So I'm supposed to be ALL IMPRESSED that Cat Stevens "KNOWS A LOT OF FANCY DANCERS," huh? Is that a fact?
Well riddle me this: Why is THAT such a big freaking deal? He doesn't even say in the song HOW he knows them! And he says it in such a flippant, passing manner, like the rest of us will be all impressed and GIVE him things.
Things such as ... well, things Cat would love and hold dear and look sexy in, like ... like a fancy braided leather guitar strap for his precious acoustic modern-day-poet siren-song-maker six-string.
And the gift-strap I'd give Cat would have these beautiful inlaid beads and little glinty Diamonelles, and even some turquoise so it looks Southwestern. That would be swank.
Just because Cat knows a lot of fancy dancers, I'm going to buy him one of those fancy guitar straps? Or worse, commission one of those babies to be made for him?
Think again, Cat-man.
No dice. That's gotta be like 150 clams minimum, to get one fancy enough to please Mr. Acoustic himself, Mr. "Saturday Night and I Ain't Got Nobody"! (Nobody except for his GD FANCY DANCERS, right?!)
So yeah, 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 BOUND to love that glamorous new guitar strap I made for your ass, huh? Probably get yourself a little hippie nookie out of the deal, won't you? You coddled prick! Thanks to ME and my THOUGHTFUL GIFT.
You unappreciative singer-songwriter, you -- sitting there all splayed-legged with your fancy blue matching shirt-and-pants outfit in this photo of you I happen to keep on my person all times, with the BOTTOM of your shirt unbuttoned to show off your lame-o peace-sign belt buckle.
Who unbuttons the BOTTOM of his shirt to look sexier, Cat? What the hell?! HELLOOOOOO!? Can you unbutton the TOP of your shirt, Cat?
Though I have to admit that your skinniness 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 knooooow a lot of faaaaancy daaaaancers!"
You SHOULD have sung:
"IIIII have a skinny boooood and blue suiiiiiiiit! And I know ... the rest of my beard is a mess ... -esssss, -esssss -EEEeeeeEEEeeEEEsssss!"
Wait. That's mean. Now I'm being mean. I'm mocking the Cat-man's gifts to us, his adorers. Maybe I've been too hard on Cat this whole post.
I have to admit that Cat's face looks super-gentle and poetic in this photo.
His face -- his face which has seen so very, very much, hasn't it? In his life it has.
How can WE meet some of your fancy dancers, Cat?
Suddenly I'm not mad 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.
Peace out, Cat-bird.