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Moby? Dick.

Pop stars and hypocrisy, it must be said, are not exactly strange bedfellows. This month we’ve had the revelation that Metallica fly, separately, in and out of every gig on private planes, despite playing the Live Earth gig to, y’know, raise awareness about how we are killing the planet and all. A friend of mine once went to see Lou Reed play in a venue where drinking and smoking were both prohibited ‘by request of the artist’. Reed, of course, walked on with a glass of red wine and proceeded to light up a cigarette.

So they don’t exactly practice what the preach, you say, and you are right. It is nothing new. And it isn’t something that bothers me. Successful musicians are usually preternaturally selfish. they are cocooned from the real world and led to believe that every thought they have is justifiable. It usually washes over me with barely a ripple.

But Moby’s comments this week pushed the envelope, even for the Herculean lack of self-awareness inherent in music. Moby lambasted his peers as being ‘only interested in making money’ and having ‘no interest in making great music’.

A copy of Moby’s play does reside somewhere in ELM Towers, as it does in most homes. It was utterly ubiquitous at the turn of the century, a sort of dancier ‘Carry On Up The Charts’. And, I guarantee you, it is never listened to any more, by anyone. Why? because if you have ever sat through an ad break during a TV show, chances are you have heard five or six tracks from it by the time the show starts again.

Moby licensed EVERY track on that album for advertising use. Indeed, in his post-Play career, it’s appeared he has been making music with which product it can shill best paramount in his thoughts. This is his prerogative, of course. It is a short career and the huge success of Play came late in a career which up to then had been, at best, patchy.

But when your music has been rendered utterly redundant by endless snippets of it being used to force cars and air freshener and furniture down the unsuspecting publics throat, it is beyond hypocritical to moan about musicians who only want to make money. Moby is now, simply, the Shake and Vac jingle guy without the honesty. He’s jinglebitch.

This lack of self-awareness is not unique to him – though he does come across as brighter than most. Noel Gallagher is a funny guy, but when you hear him criticising other bands after the decade of dross he has turned out you reckon he must have a brass neck which could deflect bullets. Richard Ashcroft is another whose pronunciations don’t always tie in with what is actually happening back here on planet Earth.

It’s life in the bubble, I suppose. It’s a lifestyle designed to make you think you are infallible, vitally important and always right. But sometimes it doesn’t half annoy us mere mortals!


2 Responses

  1. Who could forget ‘Listen Without Prejudice’?

    Okay George: limpid soul, charmless and dull.

  2. Indeed! Deeper in the closet than well hidden porn, then Mr Gay UK.

    He is a loathesome little man.

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