Moby

“SKINNER!! SKINNER!! SKINNER!!” go the tribe of oiks. _“Look everyone, Frank Skinners on the balcony!”. _

So what? SO FUCKING WHAT? You boring little cunts. Frank Skinner doesn’t care that you’re pointing at him. He don’t give a fuck. And neither do I. Get over it.

Few people care that the 36th most hated man in Britain (a crass, crap unfunny Brummie comedian) is stood on the balcony of the London Astoria. I’m far more interested in the fact that a few feet away everybody’s favourite American techno-punk-hiphop-metal-rave-guitarist-drummer-DJ-vegan-ad-whore-superstar Moby is playing a breathless, life-affirming gig.

Moby has no right to be any good. Not this good anyway. See, he’s the bland demon of music. The soundtrack to a million coffee tables and car adverts. A washed up purveyor of diluted soul and bedroom dance rhythms. A man perpetually under-rated by music snobs and over-rated by the man on the street who only ever saw half-the-picture. Not that he was always like that. Moby was always trying something new. Pushing boundaries, experimenting. Taking you somewhere else.

Strip away the bullshit and preconceptions and you get a show as brilliant as any I’ve seen. Seeing Moby reminds me what its like to be alive. Some people feel they’re only truly alive when they cheat death, or climb a mountain. I only feel as if I’m living when the music is pouring through and out of my soul. It’s music that lifts you out of this grimy, shitty concrete world into another place. A better place.

Music like this. Music like the gentle, beautiful string opening of the title track for “18”. Music like the screaming metal thrash out of “Blitzkreig Bop”. Music like a breathless 20 minute serving of Moby’s early 90’s nosebleed cheesy techno anthems. Music like the gentle sadness of “Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?”. Music like the seamless medley of a Moby’s DJ-ing transforming to a chunky cover of Herbie Hancocks “Rocket” that twists into the punk-hip hop of “Bodyrock”. All whilst the band wear enormous Afro-wigs and lift the venue beyond suburban concrete London.

That’s the music that makes me feel alive. Power in the blood, rushing through the soul, feeling like I’m not just alive, but alive. That’s the power of great music. One of the best gigs I’ve ever seen.