Morrissey is getting pilloried in England for the following comment in an interview with NME:

[W]ith the issue of immigration, it’s very difficult because, although I don’t have anything against people from other countries, the higher the influx into England the more the British [sic] identity disappears. . . . If you travel to Germany, it’s still absolutely Germany. If you travel to Sweden, it still has a Swedish identity. But travel to England and you have no idea where you are. . . . England is a memory now.

The England I grew up in is certainly a memory now. Whenever I go home I’m faced with the sad fact that England’s green and pleasant land is now relegated to myth status. Things change, but that’s not always necessarily good.

“Englishness,” for lack of a better word, is all but dead and with it dies my only home.

Before fiction became my sole creative output (outside of the occasional meal that teases even the culinary gods), I was a bass player in search of rock stardom. Had I succeeded you’d certainly have read my obituary by now—another young soul lost to sex, drugs & rock ’n’ roll. . . .

It would’ve made sense, though: “Whole Lotta Love” is the first song I remember falling in love with (way back in 1970 at the tender age of five) and Led Zeppelin became the band I most wanted to emulate—in success and excess.

In twenty years of serious playing my most successful band was Zen Pirates, formed in 1991 on the beaches of South Padre Island, Texas, and then again in the living room of our (first) singer’s mother’s house in Plano, Texas. I could write for weeks about the band and all its adventures, misadventures, successes, failures, near-death experiences, and ever-changing lineups . . . and perhaps one day I will. . . .

Yesterday I received an e-mail from Zen Pirates’ second and longest-serving drummer (and, honestly, the best drummer I’ve ever played with). Included were six ZP songs recently transferred from the original DATs. (Others, including a myriad of live recordings, will shortly receive the same treatment.)

Of these six songs (two are actually different versions of the same song), one in particular has stuck with me all these years.

“I Caught A Wave” captures the essence of Zen Pirates in our tumultuous 1992–93 period. This particular version was recorded in 1993 at Planet Dallas Studios after we had become a power trio. The performances aren’t particularly great (our manager-producer, Adam Mitchell, insisted we play with a click track—rock ’n’ roll don’t need no stinkin’ click track!) and neither is the sound. The song, though? To say I’m still proud would be putting it mildly. It rocks as hard today as it did then.

Enjoy.

 “I Caught A Wave”