Returning to the Rhythm of Life

Moby is at the creative center of pop music, an influential pop auteur who brings a Beck-ian sense of adventure to his work.

Through such stirring tracks as “Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?” from his best-selling 1999 album, “Play,” the 35-year-old singer, songwriter, producer and multi-instrumentalist laid a blueprint for how musicians can inject soulful, spiritual touches into electronic excursions by drawing on classic folk, blues, rock and gospel strains.

In an era of little substance in pop, Richard Melville Hall (yes, he is a descendant of “Moby-Dick” author Herman Melville) is also an advocate of social debate. His liner notes for “Play” consist of essays on issues ranging from vegetarianism to violence in the name of religion.

He spoke by phone from his apartment in Manhattan.

Robert Hilburn: The events of Sept. 11 left everyone in Los Angeles sort of shellshocked, but I’m sure we can’t begin to imagine how traumatic the day must have been for those of you in New York and Washington. What was that morning like for you?

Moby: I live about two, maybe three miles from the World Trade Center, and Sept. 11 was my birthday, so I now have the most infamous birthday in the history of the United States. I had been out quite late the night before with friends, so I was sleeping late. Suddenly the phone rang and it was my friend, Damian [Loeb], who is an artist, and he was real disoriented. He was screaming that we were under attack.

The same moment the second plane hit and I heard all these people on the rooftops around me screaming--a sound of anguish and disbelief that I’ll never forget. I’m not the first to say it, but the whole thing looked like special effects from a Jerry Bruckheimer movie. My brain just wasn’t prepared to deal with it.

Hilburn: How would you describe your mood in the days after the attack: angry, frightened, confused?

Moby: I think I went through the predictable reaction of someone who is experiencing grief--you go from anger to denial to numbness to melancholy to depression to where, now, things are a bit more normal.

Hilburn: Did music or art help comfort you during the days after the attack?

Moby: Musically, I found myself only able to listen to classical music, and very soothing, melodic, baroque music--although I did have a few friends over and we dug out a bunch of old punk-rock records and had this nostalgic, middle-age-guy look at our punk-rock days. I’m talking Black Flag and such.

Hilburn: When did you go back into the studio, and how hard was it to concentrate on your music?

Moby: I went back the next day, but not with the intention of working on the next album. Making music is one of the most enjoyable and most therapeutic things that I do, so I just wanted to go into the studio for the sheer joy of it--to try to regain some sense of normalcy. I have this very nice little monastic studio with a skylight, which makes the room very bright and sunny. It’s also the only room I have with air-conditioning, so it’s the only room that didn’t stink from the smell of the smoke.

Hilburn: Do you think the events of Sept. 11 have had any effect on you as an artist?

Moby: I think the role that culture serves in people’s life has changed. I think it seems a lot more vital, especially living here. There is still the sense in New York of waiting for another shoe to drop ... not knowing if there is going to be another attack and maybe one that is even more severe.

Hilburn: That’s interesting. I think there is a sense around the country that any other attack may be somewhere else and in a different form. But you still feel very vulnerable?

Moby: Yes, I think a lot of us are very skittish ... so in addition to looking to art and music for a sense of comfort, there is a certain reevaluation. There was a great surplus of culture over the last five or 10 years, and now I think people are looking back to see what was vital and meaningful and what was arbitrary and disposable. I already had most of the music done for my next album, but this all made me look hard at the songs I’ve written the last six months to see if they hold up to that standard.

Hilburn: Do you feel they do?

Moby: Not to sound immodest, but I think they do hold up well to the new criteria. I think if I had made a really pithy, silly or really aggressive record, I would have felt I should just throw it out and start from scratch. But I feel the record is earnest and heartfelt and it resonates just as well with me now as it did before Sept. 11.

Hilburn: One theory in the pop world is that this kind of social crisis will encourage artists and audiences to return to the activism and commentary of the ‘60s. Do you see that happening?

Moby: I definitely think it will be an effect. Over the last few years, I think popular music has become kind of irrelevant for a lot of people. In times of crisis, people turn to music because it does have the ability to communicate, soothe and comfort. I just hope this will force people to reevaluate their priorities so that they create music that speaks to people on a more profound level.

Hilburn: What role did pop culture have in shaping your beliefs?

Moby: It’s such a broad subject, but basically who I am as a person is almost completely defined by the music I grew up listening to and the books I read, the art I looked at and, to a lesser extent, the movies I saw.

Hilburn: What about political songs? Do you think they are effective as musical pieces?

Moby: The best political songs are also quite personal and quite moving, things like “Ohio” by Neil Young or “Peace Train” by Cat Stevens, which I heard was banned by some radio stations.

Hilburn: There was also that list of songs that were considered questionable by some radio program directors--songs like “Peace Train” and John Lennon’s “Imagine.” Were you surprised by some of the choices?

Moby: Yes, those are songs that radio should be playing 24 hours a day, not banning them. A lot of punk-rock songs are overtly political, but also quite personal and celebratory ... songs like “White Man in Hammersmith Palais” by The Clash and “Anarchy in the U.K.” by the Sex Pistols. The funny thing is I didn’t even know what anarchy meant the first time I heard “Anarchy in the U.K.” [in 1977]. I just thought it was a really cool song.

Hilburn: You’re not known for putting politics into your music, but have you been tempted to write any overtly political music because of what happened?

Moby: No. I admire people who can write subtle or overtly political songs, but whenever I tried over the years to write political music, it ended up really strident or didactic.

Trust me, I’ve written political songs, but thank goodness I’ve never released any of them.

Hilburn: Is that why you put the essays into your album packages--as a way to express your political feelings?

Moby: Yes. Political and analytical discourse are both very important to me, but whenever I’ve tried to incorporate that in my music, it has been disastrous. So the essays became a vehicle for me.

Hilburn: What kind of feedback do you get from fans about the essays?

Moby: Some people wholeheartedly agree with me, some wholeheartedly disagree. What I find gratifying is when people respect what I write and respect the fact I have this constitutional right to put forward my opinions even if they don’t necessarily agree with me.

That’s why I am worried when I see the reaction some people had to Bill Maher’s remarks on television. Whether I agree with what he said or whether I disagree is really irrelevant. The important thing is we live in a culture where people are allowed to express themselves regardless of what they are expressing. I think there are some witch hunts that are going on now that are contrary to everything that make me happy about being an American.