The “degrees” between Quicksand and Morrissey is – it makes me queasy to admit – fewer than the traditional six. That’s too close for comfort in my book. The number of degrees needed to get from Morrissey to Daryl is fractional. From Daryl to U2, probably less. And before I puke all over my computer keyboard – which I can’t afford to replace since I refuse to write and record ass-kissing college-radio-friendly pabulum like Daryl – I’ll mention that I have a personal bias involved here that has no justifiable reason being here. But the human mind is, if anything, leaky and prone to contamination. Whether you like it or not, I used to work for a fire-breathing wretch of a human-like greed robot who went by the name “Daryl.” I have never been exposed to such a vile soul-sucking vampire as that dreadful misfire of DNA, so the name Daryl just totally ruins an otherwise mediocre disc for me. Not horrible, just tepid. I think I’ve had girlfriends who would eat this shit up.