I awoke this morning with Morrissey’s “Everyday Is Like Sunday” lodged between my ears, and it’s stayed there right up to lunch. Thus the best way to see this improvisational project is as a kind of pop exorcism.

So welcome to seemingly everyone in the world having a run at that deserted beach and cheap tray–from Mozza himself to a guy with a ukulele. As aways, the sequencing is everything . . .