It starts with that piano. A repetitive, rolling C-major riff that feels like waking up in a dusty hotel room in North Africa with the sun bleeding through the shutters. Most people recognize the tune instantly, even if they can’t name the guy singing it. Year of the Cat by Al Stewart is one of those rare 1970s artifacts that hasn't aged into a cheesy caricature of itself. It’s sophisticated. It’s dense. Honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle it became a hit at all given how long the instrumental breaks are.
You’ve probably heard it on classic rock radio or in a grocery store aisle and felt that weird, nostalgic tug. But there’s a lot more going on under the hood than just a catchy melody and some smooth saxophone.
The Casablanca Connection and a Bogart Fixation
Al Stewart wasn't exactly your typical rock star. He was a Scottish folkie who moved to London, shared a flat with Paul Simon (yes, that Paul Simon), and had a massive obsession with history. Before he conquered the charts with Year of the Cat, he was writing twelve-minute epics about the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan or the life of Warren G. Harding. Not exactly Top 40 material.
When he sat down to write what would become his signature song, he was actually watching the movie Casablanca. You can hear it in the lyrics. The "silk dress running like a watercolor" and the references to Peter Lorre aren't just random poetic flourishes. He’s setting a literal scene. He wanted to capture that feeling of being a tourist lost in a place where time doesn't matter. It’s cinematic.
Interestingly, the song didn't start out being about a cat or even Morocco. In its earliest demo stages, it was called "Foot of the Stage." Stewart wrote it about a British comedian named Tony Hancock who had committed suicide. It was dark. It was depressing. His record label basically told him, "Look, the tune is incredible, but nobody wants to dance to a song about a dead comedian."
So, he pivoted. He kept the melody, scrapped the tragedy, and leaned into the exoticism of the Vietnamese zodiac. 1975 was the Year of the Cat. Stewart saw the phrase in a book, liked the rhythm of it, and a legend was born.
That Alan Parsons Touch
You can’t talk about Year of the Cat by Al Stewart without talking about Alan Parsons. This is the guy who engineered The Dark Side of the Moon. He brought a level of sonic precision to this track that most folk-rock records of the era simply lacked.
✨ Don't miss: Adam Scott in Step Brothers: Why Derek is Still the Funniest Part of the Movie
The song is over six minutes long. In 1976, that was a death sentence for a radio single unless you were Led Zeppelin. But Parsons made every second count. The arrangement is a masterclass in "building."
- It starts with the solo piano.
- Then the acoustic guitar layers in.
- The drums hit, but they’re crisp, not heavy.
- Then comes the string section, which doesn't feel sappy.
- Finally, you get that electric guitar solo by Tim Renwick that bridges the gap into the sax solo by Phil Kenzie.
Usually, when a song has a guitar solo followed by a saxophone solo, it feels like the musicians are just showboating. Here? It feels like a conversation. It’s smooth, but it has teeth. Kenzie reportedly did the sax solo in one take after being woken up from a nap. He just walked in, blew the doors off the studio, and went back to sleep. Talk about efficiency.
What the Lyrics Actually Mean (Sorta)
There’s a common misconception that the song is about a literal cat. It’s not. It’s about a guy who misses his bus. Really.
The protagonist is a traveler who gets enticed by a mysterious woman. He follows her, loses track of time, and when he finally realizes he’s missed his ride out of town, he just... stays. He gives in to the moment. In a world where we’re all obsessed with schedules and "the grind," there’s something incredibly seductive about the idea of just disappearing into a "Year of the Cat" where nothing is planned.
"She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running like a watercolor in the rain."
That’s a killer opening line. It’s visual. It’s evocative. Stewart’s voice is thin—he’d be the first to tell you he’s not a powerhouse vocalist—but it fits the character. He sounds like a guy who’s a little bit overwhelmed by his surroundings, which is exactly the point.
🔗 Read more: Actor Most Academy Awards: The Record Nobody Is Breaking Anytime Soon
The Gear and the Sound of 1976
Musicians still obsess over the "Year of the Cat" sound. If you’re a gear head, you know that the 1970s was the peak of analog recording. They used a lot of Fairchild compressors and Abbey Road magic on this record.
The acoustic guitar tone is particularly famous. It’s bright but woody. Stewart used a Yamaha acoustic for much of his work, but the secret sauce was how Parsons mic’d it. They weren't trying to make it sound like a campfire song. They wanted it to sound like a shimmering, percussive element that drove the rhythm.
And let’s be real about the sax. The 70s were littered with terrible saxophone solos that sounded like a dying goose. This isn't that. Phil Kenzie’s alto sax work on the outro is arguably one of the most melodic solos in the history of pop music. It doesn't just play the notes; it plays the mood.
Why it Still Works in the 2020s
We live in an era of two-minute songs designed for TikTok loops. Year of the Cat is the antithesis of that. It demands that you sit still for six and a half minutes. It’s a journey.
I think that’s why it’s seen a massive resurgence on streaming platforms. Younger listeners are discovering that "Yacht Rock"—a term Al Stewart probably hates, by the way—actually had some serious musical chops. It’s not just background music for a boat party. It’s complex songwriting that rewards multiple listens.
There’s also the "Liminal Space" factor. The song feels like it exists between two worlds. It’s not quite rock, not quite jazz, not quite folk. It’s its own thing.
💡 You might also like: Ace of Base All That She Wants: Why This Dark Reggae-Pop Hit Still Haunts Us
Common Misconceptions and Trivia
People often get a few things wrong about this track.
- The Year of the Cat isn't Chinese. Most people assume it’s the Chinese Zodiac. It’s actually the Vietnamese Zodiac. In the Chinese version, it’s the Year of the Rabbit. Stewart just thought "Cat" sounded cooler. He was right.
- It wasn't an overnight success. The album took a while to bubble up. But once it hit, it stayed on the charts for nearly a year.
- The "Peter Lorre" line. Some younger listeners think this is a reference to a modern actor. It’s not. It refers to the character actor from the 1940s known for playing creepy, bug-eyed villains. It adds to the film-noir vibe.
How to Truly Appreciate the Track Today
If you want to hear what Al Stewart was really going for, stop listening to the low-bitrate version on a tinny cell phone speaker. This song was engineered for high-fidelity systems.
Find a remastered vinyl copy or at least a lossless digital stream. Put on some decent headphones. Listen to the way the acoustic guitars are panned to the left and right. Notice how the strings slowly swell underneath the second verse.
It’s a masterclass in arrangement. Most modern producers could learn a thing or two from how Alan Parsons leaves "air" in the mix. Even when there are twenty instruments playing at once, you can hear every single one of them.
Actionable Ways to Explore Al Stewart’s World
If the "Year of the Cat" has its claws in you, don't stop there. The rabbit hole (or cat hole?) goes much deeper.
- Listen to the album Time Passages. It’s the follow-up to Year of the Cat and uses almost the same formula, but with even more historical storytelling. The title track is just as good, if not better, in terms of production.
- Check out "Roads to Moscow." If you want to see Al Stewart’s "history nerd" side, this is the one. It’s a sweeping epic about the German invasion of Russia. It’s heavy, but it proves he wasn't just a "one-hit wonder" for soft rock.
- Watch the 2023 documentary The Road to Rhyme. It gives a great look into how a shy guy from Scotland ended up becoming a staple of American FM radio.
- Try playing that piano riff. If you’re a musician, the opening chords are C, Fmaj7, and G. It sounds simple, but getting that "rolling" feel is harder than it looks.
Year of the Cat by Al Stewart isn't just a song; it’s a vibe that hasn't been replicated since. It’s the sound of being lost in a foreign city and realizing that, actually, you don’t really want to be found.
Next Steps for the Listener:
To get the full experience, look for the 45th Anniversary Deluxe Edition of the album. It contains a stunning 5.1 surround sound mix by Alan Parsons himself that separates the instruments in a way that makes you feel like you're sitting in the middle of the studio at Abbey Road in 1976.