(Mute Records/Little Idiot)Seeming to prefer penning candid memoirs to exploring new musical material, Moby’s 17th album has vitality but no novelty
Moby’s heydays bookended the 1990s. In 1991, the
New York native smooshed together post-punk, 80s disco and the Twin Peaks score into Go, a quintessential rave track that reached No 10 in the
UK charts, something he celebrated with spasmodic dancing on Top of the Pops. In 1999, his album Play, which combined
American roots and club beats into the kind of dinner party-friendly dance
music middle
England could really get behind, went six times platinum in the UK. Capturing the zeitgeist at both ends of a decade is no mean feat, and at 54, Moby seems more intent on reflecting on his success than repeating it – nowadays he makes headlines for cringeworthily candid memoirs about his unlikely superstardom rather than any new material.