There are albums that are kind of like a spouse: you’ve played them so many times that you have every sound memorized, and you love them completely. Then, there are albums that are more like a crush: you love the idea of them, and every time you hear them, you fall in love, but you’re unfamiliar enough with them that it still surprises you.

I definitely have a crush on Tea for the Tillerman. But I’d definitely be down for getting a few cups of coffee with it to get to know it a little better.

It’s a simple enough record–most of it is Cat Stevens with his acoustic guitar, and he may be accompanied by a piano or drum or bass guitar (the first time I listened to it, I had to turn the bass down. This album bumps gently along). And even on songs with a bit more production to them, said production is downplayed enough to match the intimate, stripped down atmosphere of the record.

The record’s power, however, comes from not from the production or the arrangements, but from Stevens himself. His voice effortlessly moves between soothing and snarling. But truth be told, the tendency is much more towards the softer, and rightly so: many of his songs are almost fairy tales in their purity. And the feelings evoked by this record are similar to those conjured by a fairy tale–childlike, comforting, and warm, like you’re drifting to sleep in your parents’ arms as they carry you.