Techno's tug for its fans, as far as i can tell from gazing into their smooth, pierced, trusting faces (while we're all high on drugs), is that it imagines the sound of a huge, cozy waiting room where we can all dance and relax until capitalism finally exhausts itself. It's incredibly passive-aggressive music-- harsh sounds for gentle souls. The noise of the industrial world thrashing away outside the window translated into the future chirp of nature's biochip. All this makes Moby uneasy. The most talented composer ( not just DJ )in the genre, he's also the only one interested in the present day dilemma, the sound of what to do with your dirty socks and dank spirit after the rave wakes up.
Everything Is Wrong is a revival retreat for kids out of the loop. With an ingenuity lo-fi indie rock claims as its domain, Moby constructs the ultimate suburban disco-- all ages, all genres. His remake of "All That I Need" made explicit hardcore punk and techno's confused ascetic aesthetic, mixing grindstone guitars with boingy keyboards. "Feeling So Real" and "Every-time You Touch Me" could've been dance floor classics, but the ragamuffin entreaties, diva howls and keyboard flourishes were immaculately arranged by an obsessive outsider with the mall's sound system in mind. Moby's trick, which fellow auteurs Prince and Trent Reznor have rarely pulled off, was to make it all (even the New Age ballads) seem goose-pimply and tangible. His vulnerable, self-aware persona keeps his music within reach, even at its most otherworldly. The classical benediction, "God Moving Over the Face of the waters," paints a beautifully intimate portrait of a spiritually wracked face. For Moby, a song only really works if we want to reach out and touch it.


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