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For all of the charges detractors throw at him, from the claim that he can
be self-righteously preachy to the oft-repeated criticism that he can't and
shouldn't sing (a notion I refute), no one has ever accused Moby of trying
to appear cool -- not when he was an underground presence on the
then-burgeoning techno scene of the early'90s; not when he scored a
phenomenal worldwide pop hit with "Play" in 1999 and certainly not now, when
he's returned to his dance roots after two commercially unsuccessful
song-oriented albums in "18" (2002) and "Hotel" (2005). For all of the
charges detractors throw at him, from the claim that he can be
self-righteously preachy to the oft-repeated criticism that he can't and
shouldn't sing (a notion I refute), no one has ever accused Moby of trying
to appear cool -- not when he was an underground presence on the
then-burgeoning techno scene of the early'90s; not when he scored a
phenomenal worldwide pop hit with "Play" in 1999 and certainly not now, when
he's returned to his dance roots after two commercially unsuccessful
song-oriented albums in "18" (2002) and "Hotel" (2005).
No, the famously bald, vegan, 42-year-old musician has always geekily but
proudly followed his ultra-square muse wherever it might take him, and on
his eighth proper album, it takes him on an all-night, presumably
substance-fueled tour of the many diverse sounds of New York's clubland,
neatly condensed into a 65-minute album-length experience. And from the
amped-up, pulsating sounds of dance-floor ravers such as "Everyday It's
1989" and "Disco Lies," to the merger of house and hip-hop on "I Love to
Move in Here" (featuring Grandmaster Caz of "Rapper's Delight" fame, one of
a number of guests who pop up on the disc), to gorgeous, introspective,
evening-ending chill-out tunes such as "Sweet Apocalypse" and the title
track, it's a joyous ride.
The key to Moby's appeal and simultaneously the biggest reason why
hipsters always shun him is a devotion to sometimes elaborate but always
fetching melodies that are absolutely old-school -- and I'm talking very
old-school, as in Bach or Mozart. His grooves may not break new ground,
and they may sometimes merely ape the work of more cutting-edge DJs. But the
combination of those rhythms with his best, often spiritual-sounding hooks
makes for an emotional experience uniquely his own and as welcome on the
music scene as it was when he made his first big splash with "Go" in 1991.
ART ROCK: Destroyer, "Trouble in Dreams" (Merge)
If one were looking to find a band sunk by the weight of all the worst
indie-rock traits of the moment -- fey, affected vocals; orchestral filigree
applied to mask melodic deficiencies; pointless complexity rubbing up
against annoying faux-simplicity and wannabe Ivy League lit professor
lyrical allusions -- it would be difficult to find a better candidate than
Destroyer, the revolving-lineup art-rock showcase for Vancouver,
Canada-based eccentric and songwriter Dan Bejar.
Although Bejar has released a staggering eight albums plus assorted other
effluvia under the Destroyer name since the mid-'90s, he's best known as a
contributor of some of the finest songs on albums by the indie-rock
supergroup the New Pornographers. There, his most self-indulgent and grating
tendencies are mitigated by the big-band dynamic, if not checked by
unofficial bandleader Carl Newman. But there are no similar filters in
Destroyer, and we suffer for it.
Mellotrons chirp, EBowed guitars imitate sawing cellos, wispy backing
vocals la-la-la and every time it seems as if Destroyer may rise to the
moment and deliver an arty pop gem imitative of Brian Eno's pop albums, the
vibe is ruined by a self-conscious allusion to a lite-rock band like Air
Supply, some over-the-top production gaffe, pretentious references to
Bejar's earlier work or our fearless leader popping back with an even more
fake accent than his usual upper-crust Brit impersonation to croon a line
such as "You in white and me in gray go well tonight/So let's linger
here/This used to be my favorite palm tree/I was starving in that
s--t-house, the world" from "My Favorite Year" (1993, if you're curious),
one of two especially wince-worthy prog-rock epics at the center of the
disc.
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