Moby at the Hammerstein Ballroom, 10/23/00 Photo by Winston Smith © 2000 NY Rock

Don't get me wrong; I do like the pint-sized, de-haired geek. His politically correct, nice-guy ways are commendable in an era of drug-ridden, spoiled rock stars. Unfortunately, however, I cannot hear an ounce of originality in his music. It rapes early American folk, lilting piano lines from Liberace and jungle rhythms from Kunta Kinte's cousins. Take away the samples, loops, drum machines and what's left?

Moby at the Hammerstein, 10/23/00 Photo by Winston Smith © 2000 NY Rock

This lack of musicianship became apparent at Sunday night's show when Moby and band made a feeble attempt at the Doors' opus to death and destruction, "The End," popularized in the Vietnam War epic Apocalypse Now. Moby tried his best to make the trademark Robby Krieger death riff credible, but failed miserably. And attempting to sing like Jim was simply sacrilegious. The boy's vocals are monotonal at best and ear shattering at worst. The crowd ate it up raw though, even the well-breasted cuties. This irked me. I betcha even ol' Jim was tossing in his grave over the sleight.

As a performer, Moby is quite a sight to behold, running around the stage like an elf on uppers, leaping over mike stands and drum risers in a single bound. Nevertheless, I felt liked I was duped at this show. Gimme my rock stars drug crazed, egotistical and sexist. If it weren't for the bountiful T-and-A shakin', I would have been long gone after ten minutes.

November 2000

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