‘I’m a little vegan, I’m sober, bald, maybe inbred, and I am a raver,” announces Moby tonight. It’s the first time he has toured in over a decade, as he marks the 25th anniversary of Play, the monstrously successful album that no doubt helped to put him in a position to donate all tour profits to animal rights charities. “I’m the only middle-aged idiot to go on tour and lose money,” he declares.
With a five-piece band and two backing singers, Moby often lets them do the musical heavy lifting as he pinballs around the stage like a whizzed-up teenager hammering away at his guitar, or working up the audience like an overly animated fitness instructor. Or on Go, as the ominous drones of Angelo Badalamenti’s sampled Twin Peaks score rings out, he furiously slaps bongos as cello and violin collide, alongside thunderous drums, to elevate the song into a giddy rush.
The once inescapable ubiquity of Play still lingers and its songs feel like buried memories being unearthed from deep corners of your brain – familiar yet distant. Some work better than others. Bodyrock sounds so dated as to feel ghostly, whereas Natural Blues is turned into a roaring, rousing piece of gospel blues-pop, thanks to a stunning vocal performance from singer Choklate.
There’s not a huge amount of deftness or nuance on display tonight: things are either super-maximalist or stripped-back and quiet, with little in between. Support act Lady Blackbird does a wonderful job singing Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? but musically it feels a little like cruise-ship electro, while Lift Me Up (from the Hotel album) is almost knowingly overblown. The slightly odd, but partly successful cover of Ring of Fire soon brings the tempo back down again.
However, subtlety and tact has never really been Moby’s thing. He closes with the pummelling techno-jungle of Feeling So Real and the high-bpm hardcore stomper Thousand as he climbs on top of a box, basking in a giant spotlight with arms outstretched, Christ-like, before the bald, sober, maybe inbred, vegan raver disappears into the night.
Source: theguardian.com
