The idea that Cat Stevens would convert to Islam, disappear for ages, and then suddenly reappear years later with a popular folk-rock album, now calling himself Yusuf, seems faintly absurd. There is something decidedly naff about the idea of Cat Stevens / Yusuf and no doubt many Eyewear readers, and others, will not explore this new album with the respect it actually deserves. Others will have been waiting for this with great eagerness.
This is Yusuf's moment, at least in Britain. Surely no album's release could be more relevant in the week that Al-Jazeera English launches its world-wide television broadcasting news service, that Bush reels from his Iraq-induced losses at home, or that debate continues to rage about the role of the Muslim community in the UK and, indeed, everywhere. Yusuf is no apologist for his faith, but this grave, solemn, and at times preposterously upbeat recording, with its 12 songs (only nine original to the artist, and two brief spoken word poems, really homilies), sounds a bit like Dylan or Marley at their most fundamentalist, at their moments of greatest conviction. It does provide a portrait of a serious Muslim artist who is relatively moderate and interested in a world at peace, and that's an invaulable thing in itself.
Yusuf directly addresses love, devotion to religious ritual, and divine judgement. He clearly celebrates his rather strict belief that the "good's going high" and the evil go down to punishment, that "you can't bargain with the truth". However, this is not an entirely restrictive address, as Yusuf also quotes in his liner notes from Zen and even rather secular sources, including the witty, sour critic of genius Cyril Connolly.
Musically, the whole thing is a divine throwback to the early 70s - and, once you've shuddered - think again: some of this has the haunting quality of tender Led Zep; but mostly, what Cat Stevens did best. The melodies are superb, the vocals warm and passionate, and the arrangements stern or lush as the occasion demands. All is superbly crafted, and burnished with a spirit of decency that is without guile. An Other Cup brims with a generous offering to the listerner ready for songs of faith and devotion (and not the ones that Depeche Mode gave us).
This is ideal rainy day music, the kind students who burn incense and sip camomile will adore; so what? That's sometimes a gentle comfort zone in which to reside. Meditative, reflective and relgious music has perhaps the longest tradition, after war music (the beating of drums) so no need to carp too much about this.
For the record, several songs here are among the artist's best, surprisingly, given he might have returned rusty: "Heaven/ Where True Love Goes" and "I Think I See The Light" especially.
Eyewear gives this four specs out of five.
This is Yusuf's moment, at least in Britain. Surely no album's release could be more relevant in the week that Al-Jazeera English launches its world-wide television broadcasting news service, that Bush reels from his Iraq-induced losses at home, or that debate continues to rage about the role of the Muslim community in the UK and, indeed, everywhere. Yusuf is no apologist for his faith, but this grave, solemn, and at times preposterously upbeat recording, with its 12 songs (only nine original to the artist, and two brief spoken word poems, really homilies), sounds a bit like Dylan or Marley at their most fundamentalist, at their moments of greatest conviction. It does provide a portrait of a serious Muslim artist who is relatively moderate and interested in a world at peace, and that's an invaulable thing in itself.
Yusuf directly addresses love, devotion to religious ritual, and divine judgement. He clearly celebrates his rather strict belief that the "good's going high" and the evil go down to punishment, that "you can't bargain with the truth". However, this is not an entirely restrictive address, as Yusuf also quotes in his liner notes from Zen and even rather secular sources, including the witty, sour critic of genius Cyril Connolly.
Musically, the whole thing is a divine throwback to the early 70s - and, once you've shuddered - think again: some of this has the haunting quality of tender Led Zep; but mostly, what Cat Stevens did best. The melodies are superb, the vocals warm and passionate, and the arrangements stern or lush as the occasion demands. All is superbly crafted, and burnished with a spirit of decency that is without guile. An Other Cup brims with a generous offering to the listerner ready for songs of faith and devotion (and not the ones that Depeche Mode gave us).
This is ideal rainy day music, the kind students who burn incense and sip camomile will adore; so what? That's sometimes a gentle comfort zone in which to reside. Meditative, reflective and relgious music has perhaps the longest tradition, after war music (the beating of drums) so no need to carp too much about this.
For the record, several songs here are among the artist's best, surprisingly, given he might have returned rusty: "Heaven/ Where True Love Goes" and "I Think I See The Light" especially.
Eyewear gives this four specs out of five.
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