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Cat Stevens: Numbers

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Island Records
Released: 1976
Time:
 33:25
Category: Pop/Rock
Producer(s): See Artists ...
Rating: *******... (7/10)
Media type: CD
Web address: www.catstevens.com and www.yusufislam.com
Appears with:
Purchase date: 2008.08.29
Price in €: 5,01



 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Whistlestar (C.Stevens) - 3:47
[2] Novim's Nightmare (C.Stevens) - 3:52
[3] Majik of Majiks (C.Stevens) - 4:31
[4] Drywood (C.Stevens) - 4:56
[5] Banapple Gas (C.Stevens) - 3:09
[6] Land O'Freelove & Goodbye (C.Stevens) - 2:48
[7] Jzero (C.Stevens) - 3:47
[8] Home (C.Stevens) - 4:13
[9] Monad's Anthem (C.Stevens) - 2:16

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


Cat Stevens - Synthesizer, Guitar, Piano, Keyboards, Electric Piano, Vocals, 12 String Guitar, Producer, Illustrations, Grand Piano

Jean Roussel - Organ, Synthesizer, Piano, Strings, Arranger, Harpsichord, Keyboards, Hammond Organ, Electric Piano, Brass, Overdubs, Vibraphone, String Arrangements, Synthesizer Strings
Alun Davies - Guitar, Vocals, 12 String Guitar, 12-String Bass Guitar
Gerry Conway - Drums, Vocals, Snare Drums
Bruce Lynch - Bass

Simon Nicol - Guitar, 12 String Guitar, Fender Stratocaster
Gordie Fleming - Accordion
Chico Batera - Percussion, Conga, Triangle, Ganza, Waterphone, Wind Chimes
David Sanborn - Saxophone, Alto Saxophone
Vincent Beck - Vocals
Lewis Furey - Vocals
Art Garfunkel - Vocals
Venette Gloud - Vocals
Carl Hall - Vocals
Melba Joyce - Vocals
Brenda Russell - Vocals
Suzanne Lynch - Vocals
Barbara Massey - Vocals
Anna Peacock - Vocals
Tasha Thomas - Vocals
Carmen Twillie - Vocals

Nick Blagona - Engineer, Mixing
Leanne Ungar - Engineer
Gerald Block - Mixing
Bart Chiate - Mixing
Ron Saint Germain - Mixing
Rene Ameline - Mixing
Gary Ulmer - Mixing
Bernie Grundman - Original Mastering
Bill Levenson - Reissue Producer
Michael Diehl - Reissue Design
Bill Levenson - Reissue Supervisor
Vartan - Reissue Art Director

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s

1976 LP A&M 75021-4555-1
1976 CS A&M 75021-4555-4
2001 CD A&M 546890

Subtitled "A Pythagorean Theory Tale", Stevens' follow-up to the relatively conventional BUDDHA AND THE CHOCOLATE BOX is a semi-concept album with a sort of science fiction theme.The songs are set on the faraway planet Polygor, which "existed to give numbers to the universe", and they are sung from the point of prominent inhabitants of the planet, including the wise and deep-thinking old Novim ("Novim's Nightmare")and cranky emperor Monad ("Monad's Anthem"). The story lineisn't easy to follow, but the songs themselves are in Steven's signature folkie pop mode, and the one non-story song, "Banapple Gas" (a distant relative of Donovan's "Mellow Yellow") is as catchy as anything in his catalogue.



Subtitled "A Pythagorean Theory Tale," Numbers was a concept album relating to a faraway galaxy, a planet called Polygor, a palace, and its people, the Polygons. So one learned from the album's accompanying booklet. The songs presumably told the tale, but as with so many concept albums, listening to Numbers was like hearing a Broadway cast album without having seen the show - something seemed to be going on, but it was hard to tell what. The setting did allow Cat Stevens to indulge his affection for Middle Ages madrigal music, and individual songs, notably the singles-chart entry "Banapple Gas," were appealing. The lyrics were full of references to home, God, and "the truth," which gave the whole a vaguely spiritual tone, though the key word here is "vague." Stevens fans may have been somewhat put off by the fear that Numbers was a kind of musical math class - though it went gold, the album was the first in his last seven to peak below the Top Ten.

William Ruhlmann - All Music Guide



The legacy of singer-songwriter Cat Stevens is a distinct dichotomy: though he built his fame on a string of hit singles and bestselling albums, he seems as famous now for turning his back on that stardom for a life devoted to Islam, education, and charity. But Stevens's latter-day willingness to explore that past (finally allowing his original '70s albums to be remastered and reissued) only reinforces the old adage that hindsight is usually 20/20; some of the later collections that seemed so idiosyncratic at the time of their original releases now seem but part of the artist's larger spiritual quest. Nineteen seventy-five's Numbers is a good case in point, ostensibly a whimsical concept album (subtitled "A Pythagorean Theory Tale" and bearing a "WARNING: This album is not to be taken 2 seriously" advisory) about a distant planet whose inhabitants are charged with distributing numbers to the rest of the universe. Stevens sets up the tale in a fancifully illustrated booklet, leads off with the sprightly instrumental "Whistlestar," and then lets its characters inhabit a tellingly introspective slate of songs. Set against spare backdrops that subtly evoke everything from folk to baroque (incorporating sidemen like sax notable David Sanborn and Art Garfunkel), those protagonists mouth restless spiritual and existential concerns not unlike the singer's own. Stevens also produced this fairy tale for children of all ages, insuring Numbers a very personal space in his canon, whether he took it "2 seriously" or not.

Jerry McCulley -  Amazon.com



Things aren't going well for Cat Stevens on the planet, ah, polyethylene. Critics keep asking: would you buy a used I Ching from this man? Since Tea for the Tillerman, affirmation has been doubtful. Never a deep thinker and rarely a master of words, Stevens has now turned to the "majik" of numerology, only to have the melodies disappear down the decimal point. In fact, "Call Me Zero" would have been a perfect title for Numbers, an album so breathtakingly stupid that even the most loyal fan could count its merits without using any of the fingers on either hand.

Sententiously subtitled "A Pythagorean Theory Tale," Numbers, ostensibly the story of some numerically named extraterrestrials, really isn't about anything at all—no minor flaw in what purports to be a concept LP. Instead, Stevens wastes his time and ours with enough quasi-mystical graffiti to decorate a dozen disasters. "Drywood," "Land o' Free Love & Goodbye" and "Home" are mere calendar art, touristy post cards from an arcane Utopia apparently badly in need of enough Rolaids to dispel forever the malodorous "Banapple Gas" that may cause severe attacks of dreadful Gibranian diarrhea.

When Cat Stevens waltzed into A&M, singing "Well, I ain't got nothing/But it don't worry me," he wasn't kidding. In all respects, Numbers is even more self-indulgent and insipid than Foreigner, the artist's only other attempt at self-production. Gone are the gorgeous instrumental textures and, more important, an intelligence capable of giving shape to the project. There would seem to be an equation here: Stevens minus the common sense and considerable technical skills of his regular producer, Paul Samwell-Smith, invariably equals nada. Perhaps this tribute to treacle is a joke, and Numb is the operative word. Spelled with a D.

PAUL NELSON - Feb 26, 1976
RollingStone.com
 

 L y r i c s


Whistlestar

Instrumental


Novim's Nightmare

Once I had a dream that worried me,
Like a drunken guillotine
Lingering just above my head.

Why, why, why, why?
Why was I born a nine cursed repeatedly?
Who would know if I should die?
No one needed me.

Doo doo doo doo doo ...

Dark and empty was the place to which I'd come.
Cold and silent was the house my name was on.
Nine rooms and a tomb in every one.
So dark and empty was the place to which I'd come.

All at once my bones began to change.
I was tall and young again,
Sweet as rain falling on the snow.
Who, who, who, who?
Who is he? Who am I?
And what laid in between?
How can I say goodbye?
No one let me in.

Can't see no need for Nine no more
Now it's too late to open the door.

La la la la la ...


Majik of Majiks

What kind of power,
What kind of demon is this
Who kicks me out in shame,
With every word he says
What kind of majik of majiks.

What kind of war is this,
That I can't fight no more
That leaves me weaponless,
And nails me to the floor

What kind of power, of powers.
What kind of man--
Can make me turn and see
The way I really am.
Oh tell me who, oh who?

Where have my brothers gone,
Why I don't see them about
They're all around him now.
And keeping me out
What kind of madness, of madness
"Go on and let him in, he's only asking for
A simple job to do and nothing more" they said.
But looking back
I see this stranger had the key
To any door he wished, with his eyes I say.

What kind of majiks, of majiks
What kind of man--
Can make me turn and see the way I really am.
Oh tell me who, oh who?
"Go on and let him in, he's only asking for
A simple job to do and nothing more" they said.
"Go on and let him in."
"Go on and let him in, he's only asking for
A simple job to do and nothing more."
But looking back
I see this stranger had the key
To any door.


Drywood

You've got to learn, to brighten up your ways
Kick out your dull padded life
There's much to know, and no doors in space
They were only mirrors you imagined in your mind
Now that you've got no place to go
And you stand alone
Know that there's just one place to be
And it's in your soul, oh
Like drywood takes to fire the truth will come to you
Like streams that seek the ocean they will find ways through
Like morning meets the moon, my love will guide the way
It's time to wipe your eyes not, and awake
I've come to take you over, there's much for you to do
I've come to take you over, then it's up to you

Be like the light, in the shadows
Throw down your mask and be real
Don't wish to win, and don't mind to lose
That was just a cycle like a squirrel in a wheel
Now that you've got no place to look
And you stand alone
Know that's there's just one place to be
And it is your home, oh
Like fish that seek the water, the truth will come to you
Like leaves upon the soil, they will find ways through
Like flowers seek the sun, my love will guide the way
It's time to wipe your eyes now, and awake.

You say you're really with me but you only follow me around
How much you love me yes,
But I don't want the kind of love
I have to sit down and count

You think you're free and lucky but you're stuck behind a prison wall
How well you know yourself
But I see something else within you
That you don't see at all
You may give up your number, disowning all your wealth
You may sell all the pieces, but you'll
Never never never give up
Yourself, oh no no no.

Like drywood takes to fire the truth will come to you
Like streams that seek the ocean they will find ways through
Like morning meets the night's stars, my love will guide the way
It's time to wipe your eyes not, and awake
I've come to take you over, there's much for you to do
I've come to take you over, then it's up to you.


Banapple Gas

Banapple gas, oh Banapple gas
Everybody's sniffing it Banapple gas
O-o alas!
All the world is stuck on it Banapple gas.

Does it do you good, make you better
Set you healthy when you're bed-tied?
Well I don't know if it makes you well...
But it must be healthy
'Cause it don't smell.

Banapple gas, oh Banapple gas
Everybody's living on Banapple gas
O-o alas!
All the world is grooving on Banapple gas.

Do you know what goes inside to make it
What kind of strange spice makes it right?
Well I don't know what kind of spice
But it must be healthy 'cause it's sterilized.

Banapple gas...Banapple gas
Give me more Banapple gas
O-o...o-o-o

Does it help you smile more to wake up
Make you happy just to be alive?
Well I don't know if it makes you happy...
But it must be healthy
'Cause it's certified.

Banapple gas, oh Banapple gas
All the world is breathing Banapple gas
O-o alas!
No one knows what's inside it Banapple gas
Oh Banapple gas.


Land o' Free Love & Goodbye

Oh the trees grow higher than the mountains
In the land of free love and goodbye
The river's ever flowing, fishes growing
And the God I love loves me.

In the sky rides a gleam of white horses
And the glimmer clean in your eye
The bird of dawn is bringing
The simpleness of singing
And the God I love loves me.

Oh the trees grow higher than the mountains
In the land of free love and goodbye
The river's ever flowing, fishes growing
And the God I love loves me.

And the Sun lies all around
And everything is as it must be
And winter lies underground
And the God I love loves me.


Jzero

Jzero:
Well I ain't got nothing.
But it don't worry me
I came to this life like a free-walking tree
No need to be tied, no need to be--
They call me Jzero

Well I ain't got nothing
And to nothing I belong
You won't find me right,
Yet you won't find me wrong
If you think about me,
Don't thing too long--
Jus' call me Jzero.

Well I don't house no past
Never carried a key
My sun doesn't rise from under the sea
There is only one morning
Eternally...dee d'lee d'lee

Polygons:
Well he says he hasn't got nothing
But he seems to possess less
He waltzed through the door
Like a tapdance with death
What kind of fool is he?

Jzero:
No need to guess, jus' call me Jzero.

Well I don't eat a lot
I do work for nothing so
If there's a job I can fill the gap
I don't need a room, bed or pillow oh
Once you've decided to trust me with time
You won't need to look back...
A doo de doo de doo

Well I ain't got nothing,
But it don't worry me
I came to this life like a free-walking tree
No need to be tied, no need to be--
They call me Jzero.


Home

Home on a kite we fly,
Home on a breeze we blow
Eyeing the folks below and
Watching everybody run,
Each one heading for a different place
Watching everybody hide,
Each behind a different face

Home where the days are long
Back where the people are free,
Home where all sides agree and,
Everybody has a friend, oh
And no one ever has to grab
Everybody shares the love,
Giving everything they have.

Forever forever your lamp will burn
Forever home forever would that you'd learn
That you came with nothing
So with nothing you'll return

Home

You know you're not alone
It's only 'cause you're not a home
That you feel so out of place.
Forever forever your lamp will burn
Forever home forever would that you'd learn

That you came with nothing
So with nothing you'll return

Home where all the mums can sing,
Back where the children don't cry,
Home where you never ask why and
Everybody has enough, and y'don't have to put on clothes
Nobody has to hide 'case everyone already knows.


Monad's Anthem

One is the ever blazing star
Sword of the immortal world
And highest light
Yes, this is our star.

Out star is ever rising
Born of the eternal lamp
And holy fire

Mighty burning mountain
The everlasting love of one is
One is one is one is one is one is
One is the ever kindling star
King of the immortal spark
In heaven's eye
Yes, this is our star.
Yes, this is our star.
Our star Our star.
 

 M P 3   S a m p l e s


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