God’s favourite space cadet has remained on US time during his entire British tour, just in case he is called home to collect his Grammy. But, hey, he’s [I]always[/I] been on [a]Moby[/a] Time anyway, right? And right about now, the punk soul brother is more popular than ever. If pre-[a]Fatboy Slim[/a] America was largely unmoved by breakbeat rock, it is now offering its most prestigious music award to the original ‘Christian vegan ex-punk’ of bonkers techno euphoria. Throw in a Brit nomination for his gold-selling techno-blues masterpiece ‘Play’, and suddenly the whole world’s on [a]Moby[/a] Time.
After a decade of mostly tape-driven solo shows, the Mini Me version of Billy Corgan now fronts a live band featuring a drummer, DJ and punk-goddess bassist. DATs and drum machines still play a big role, but this format also allows for softly strummed ballads, totalitarian ravecore, and soaring sampled-soul anthems like ‘Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?’. He’s tried everything from gospel to death metal – now he’s playing them all at once.
Clearly [a]Moby[/a] and the zeitgeist have finally forged some kind of accord. There is certainly more than a trace of Prodigy-on-a-budget brutalism about his pumped-up Bond theme, and the slamming turntable rifftronica of ‘Bodyrock’. The euphoric Italia-house piano rolls of ‘Next Is The E’ and revitalised rave mantra ‘Go’, meanwhile, are pure Gatecrasher trance in their revved-to-the-max epiphanies.
There are nods to Digital Hardcore’s breakbeat punk ferocity in the mashed-up 1991 rave meltdown ‘Ah Ah’ and in the record-smashing, turbo-nutter [I]|ber[/I]-gabba techno-jabber speedfreak megablast ‘Thousand’, which peaks at over 1,000bpm and registers about, ooh, 6.7 on the Richter scale. At this point, [a]Moby[/a] is in messianic pose on top of his keyboard, as arc lights frame him in heavenly amber. Jesus Christ! Pure showmanship, of course, but it still takes your breath away.
It’s a crucial development. [a]Moby[/a] 2000 has evolved much further than simply cashing in on the techno trends he invented a decade ago. While the mainstream has moved towards him, he has also embraced more orthodox notions of rock performance. Subtlety is still not his strong point, and you sometimes crave a dash of genuine [I]soul[/I] amid the overdriven big-beat stomps, but he is certainly energising the crowd. Bristol has gone pogo-rave-hands-in-the-air mental, and you can’t buy that kind of unforced exhilaration with all the drugs on earth.
So disco-rock’s prodigal son is back in the fold – even if, deep down, he marches to a different drummer. But when God’s your DJ, you can dance how you like.