Having reviewed the previously written, I, much to my surprise, found that I couldn't say it any better than it's done by Mr C. Thomson - there's no need trying to invent a bicycle where it already exists. It is not that often met with nowadays, when an artist is so frank and honest not even with the audience, but with himself (in this case, with themselves of course). And such frankness, revelation without the slightest shade of fear of being derided, deserves to be appreciated. Being myself not much of an Elton John's fan, still I'm addicted to some of his works, and the album from which this song originates is my Number One. Not simply beautiful, touching lyrics, but an open window into which we are invited to look.

That's a very much likely story. Despite all, it's the folklore, and one should in no way disparage the experince of the past generations. They were not, to say the least of it, less clever than we are here now - the nature of man remains unchanged in its core in ages as well as the essence of nature itself does. Even nowadays, people in the country have the keener and sharper eye in following the movements of their environment closely. Well, about the song. Yes, this all is exactly about it. You may trust my words, or conversely, but they say that the forest proper is a living being, the complex system much more intricate than, for instance, the human organism (computers, which are often chosen as a standard for such comparison, do not have even the slightest chance to equal those two in complexity). And what do we, hewmans, know about this tremendous universe, how do we relate to it and its denizens? We, in our so to speak material world, are somehow not eager to support, some of us even to restore our natural connexion with the World of the only one side of which Mr. Anderson kindly reminded us in this beautiful song. How does he manage to execute pearls like this, where does he see all those images and hear so heavenly tunes? I wonder. But I suspect he doesn't know it either.

A very frank story of the most natural and undusguised bewilderment of a musician who, having already started his ways in the show-biz, finds himself perplexed (purplexed) facing though unbiased, still much frustrating indifference to him and to what he is about to express: the show is underway, and all its parts shall move smoothly - that's all, and nothing personal. That is why in the beginning, the character presumes to ask in uncertainty, Maybe I could be like Robin Hood?, whereas later, he explodes with the indignant, wtf! Where is my Robin Hood outfit? And the remorseless, full of pungent sarcasm "No one ever cared enough to say goodbye" is concluded with the finally sobering "No one came from miles around and said, Man, who's he?" Thank them gentlemen for this true thus very touching and stirring tale.

Having once commenced expressing my maudlin reminiscences of old with the Rare Earth's "I Just Want To Celebrate", I now cannot help noticing the coming date, June 7. Very few would insist they haven't heard of Mr. P.R. Nelson ever. My memories take me back to 1984, the times when I would practice in listening to the Superrock kyoi short-band station from L.A. (they said so, though located actually at Saipan) almost every day. Purple Rain poured in at once, as if we knew each other before - it's some bizarre kind of perception when you try to remember not if, but merely when and where you have previously met with or heard it. Although I didn't succeed to understand distinctly each and every word of the song, I nevertheless comprehended the spirit of it; having been enchanted by the fervency of Prince's outbursting emotions, I became trapped altogether and remained captured. To say that I liked it would mean to say nothing - I fell in love with the song, and later, when I reached the chance of examining the authentic lyrics, I loved it even more for Prince had sung about my real self, too. Well, Mr. Nelson, I know what you were singing about up there, so my both hands up. Requiescas in pacem, dear.

I'm most certainly sure I know! Back in the early 70s, the Western music, especially rock'n'roll and everything they called to be it, was not easy to obtain in the then USSR; yet it was not officially banned altogether either. My dad was a radioman on a fish-processing factory-vessel, which, at those times, often visited the US EEZ around Alaska and below paricipating in the so to speak US-Soviet joint-venture "SovAm". So I asked him to record a couple of tapes (remember that?) of what they used to play there. "Why not," he said, and did. Well, the tapes appeared to become the real gems, and they (for the most part, because of the circumstances under which they happened to fall into my possession) made me a sorta celebrity among my buddies, same daft and rock-screwy as I was. I freely identified most of the recorded music but for a couple of songs. And one of them, as you might guess by now, was "I Just Want To Celebrate". This mighty and powerful piece of music was a painful enigma that pursued teasing me in years until one day, when it was disclosed; but it didn't bring much satisfaction, I should say, - there always shall be a mystery somewhere. The much confined space here does not allow this story to be unfolded in full, but, I believe, the meaning is quite clear, This song is the part of my life, and such things are no joke. And you ask me if I know what this song is about. Ha, Garn!

Well, these words: "I like (smoke and lightning), ... and the feeling that I'm under", will play trick on me each time I listen to the song. My imagination is trapped hesitating to choose between if the character likes the feeling under which he is, i.e., the feeling which impresses him most, or he likes the feeling that he is under some kind of dope, i.e., the feeling of being dosed. Is there anyone who can explain, differentiate this to me?