Play - Moby
BMG, 1999
Review by Paul Mitchell
Zadok Perspectives Issue No. 64
Winter 1999

IN 1995, US MUSICAL chameleon Moby released, Everything is Wrong. Its blend of house, techno, hip-hop, punk and ambient, all permeated by Moby's grandiose musical sensibility, was lauded world-wide by critics. Spin magazine, the US counterculture grandpappy, named it album of the year and proclaimed Moby popular music's saviour.

Then, in late 1996, Moby released Animal Rights, a bombastic return to his pre-dance, punk roots. It further alienated the dance community who had been sceptical about the lack of 'purity' on Everything is Wrong. It also induced a universal 'rock crit' dry retch, and the musical saviour was thrown into the dungeon.

Two ensuing instrumental soundtrack albums won back some approval from both camps. Now with the release of Play, Moby has received critical acclaim, though it seems unlikely, due to his musical eclecticism, that he will ever win back his iconic status in the dance community. For his part, Moby, perhaps naively given his involvement with subcultures and his intimate knowledge of their cultural norms, can't understand all the fuss: "I've never seen the necessity to choose one type of music over any others. I'm surprised that people are surprised at what I do", he told Spin.com.
Throughout all this, Moby has created further cultural unrest due to his self-proclaimed love for Jesus and hatred of the US Religious Right; the public tabling of his unusual sexual practices and his borderline militant veganism. His rants against fundamentalism (usually the Christian brand) and tracts in favour of plant-based diets fill the liner notes of his major recordings. These scribblings have taken on increasing importance when considering the Moby phenomenon, a fact to which Moby admits: "If you hate the essays you might still like the music, and if you like the essays you might hate the music", he wrote in Play's notes.

On this outing, Moby's musical kaleidoscope is in full twist and crunch mode. The most consistent patterns are the dance tracks underpinned by blues/folk/gospel samples. While this is terrain recently covered by Fatboy Slim, most notably on his single, "Praise", Moby does it with more depth and cognisance. "Honey", "Find my Baby", "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?" and "Natural Blues" all get the feet moving, albeit moderately, while imbuing the listener with decades of emotional struggle. This marriage has been dubbed cultural robbery by some and evidence of genius by others. The best bet is to George Michael the whole thing--listen without prejudice.
But of course Moby, a descendent (of sorts) of literary giant Herman Melville, has other minor narratives running through Play. Old-skool hip-hop, rock, ambient, acoustic and even '50s bebop get a track listing; the latter most evident on the first single, "Run On". The single is also notable for being the most overt song dealing with spiritual matters that Moby has recorded:

"You might run on for a long time, run on, ducking and dodging, run on children for a long time, let me tell you God Almighty gonna cut you down . . . My God spoke he sound so sweet . . . He put one hand upon my head, great God Almighty let me tell you what He said . . . tell the gamblin' and the ramblin' backslider, tell them God Almighty gonna cut 'em down".

At first glance, a lyric like this would seem to run counter to Moby's passionate distaste for what he brands fundamentalism. But it is decidedly clear after reading the religious essays on all his albums that Moby has been "cut down" by his encounter with Jesus; he has been re-orientated to see the world through his interpretation of who Jesus is. What else can there be but this individualistic vision if one eschews involvement with the 'religious' aspect of Christianity? ('Religion' for Moby, I am quite sure, means 'church'.) Hence Moby's 'spiritual' program: promote Jesus, lambaste organised religion, malign the Religious Right, be a vegan, sing about conversion, have sex with whomever, however-and produce intensely creative music, uninhibited by the propaganda-laden agendas within sections of the Christian church.

Moby is no different to numerous third millennial people-artists especially-who have a relationship with Jesus, who are by definition part of the church, but do not wish to have involvement with its institutional aspect. In Jesus they see the source of all love and life, in the church they see-perhaps largely through a mass media filter-judgmentalism and soul death. To say this is a challenge for the church is wrong because the people in question are, strictly speaking, also the church. What Moby and others show is the need for the church's urgent deinstitutionalisation and a focus on allowing people to live spiritually enriched lives, free of delineation between church and society, sacred and secular.

But wait, all this ecclesiology from a pop album? Well, of course. Great artists-and Moby is a great artist-inspire debate in numerous quarters, through their art, lives and public opinions. On Play, Moby pushes the pop music mainstream toward new territory, while encouraging the electronic avant-garde away from straight-jacketed formalism. Through the liner notes and some lyrics he challenges those who would make of Christ's life and teachings a moral sledge hammer to allow grace to transform their approach. But a question I would want to ask is: Does Moby bend his gifted ear to anyone in regard to the personal aspect of his life with Jesus? Because surely that aspect cannot be separated from his musical, social and political outpourings.

Paul Mitchell is Associate Editor of Zadok Perspectives and Editor of Shoot the Messenger on-line in which this article first appeared. E-mail mitch@fishcomnet.com.au.