Modest Moby: Wait for Me Tour 2009

With low-budget videos, an instrumental first single, at-home recording and hand-drawn animation by the artist himself, those not in the know might think Moby’s “Wait for Me” is the work of any tech-savvy, commercially anonymous musician trying to make a mark on the world. With his self-deprecating sense of humor and populist philosophy, it may be hard to believe that Moby was an MTV sensation just a decade ago. But to his loyal international fan base, Moby’s career has simply come full circle, stepping down from the star-studded platform of the once-mainstream rave culture of yesteryear to the quasi-underground realm of today’s Internet-driven experimental music scene.
For the first time in five years, Moby has returned to the world stage and the continental U.S. with a live band, a special treat for many fans, but in particular his small American following, long-neglected in light of the artist’s low sales figures in his home country. At the Palladium Ballroom in Dallas, Texas, on a misty October night, Moby and his band played to an intimate crowd of approximately 250 fans, surprisingly few considering the limited number of U.S. tour dates and Dallas being one of America’s largest cities. Yet in spite of his constant proclamations of uncertainty with his musical skills, a careful examination of Moby’s interviews indicate the former superstar wouldn’t have it any other way. Moby’s musical products often reflect a careful balance between what he likes and what his fans like, and confound the world of charts and profits!
Brooklyn resident and California native Kelli Scarr began the evening’s sonic journey with a few of her original songs, in the sweet, angelic tones that serve as the voice for “Wait for Me.” Her songs were as calm and quiet as the mature audience that stood before her, perhaps too quiet, as Scarr remarked, “You guys listen so politely, not like the crowds in New York.” Whether Scarr was merely mocking the snarky nature of the New York music scene or the lackluster reaction of the Dallas audience is unclear. But later, as Moby’s long-anticipated live set began, one thing was clear: this crowd was different from the glitter-and fur-clad rave crowd of a decade ago. With the exception of a small child bearing glow-toys, and a teenager in a lime-green body suit and kilt, there were no signs of the rave scene where Moby first found his place in popular music. Although the crowd ranged in age from two to baby boomer, the typical attendees were couples, about half gay, half straight, in stylishly conservative casual dress, 25-35 years of age. The change in the attending crowd was both a reflection of Moby’s evolution as an artist, and as a sign of the times.
Moby’s set was announced by the ambient track “A Seated Night.” Moby warmed up the crowd with the three first singles from the new album, first with the instrumental “Shot in the Back of the Head,” followed by the sad-but-dance-friendly “Mistake,” featuring his own vocal talents, then giving way to Scarr for the title track.
The crowd, attentive but still relatively motionless, was roused somewhat by “Flower,” an old favorite from the soundtrack to “Gone in 60 Seconds” whose rollicking rhythms must have been why, Moby said, the song reminded him of Texas. But Moby, ever the vocal political liberal, didn’t hesitate to make fun of George W. Bush, getting to the heart of the issue by imploring Texans, who consider the former President a native son, how the Bush family, originally from Moby’s native Connecticut, somehow morphed into Texans. These remarks were met with a chorus of cheers and boos, and as if this weren’t enough, Moby further provoked the audience by pondering aloud how ole’ George got his Texas accent, mimicking W’s familiar vernacular in a Connecticut accent, a contrast that roused some laughs from even the most tight-lipped Texans in the room.
Yet for all his rabble-rousing, (“I’m going to get shot,” mused the star,) Moby’s skills as a professional musician clarified any questions one might have as to how such an openly-liberal artist could have such a solid conservative following. Along with Scarr, Moby’s band featured singer Inyang Bassey for the gospel parts, a violinist, a drummer, a bass player and Moby himself doing vocals, guitar and jams on the conga drums, a tradition for Moby’s live performances, and a beautiful but tasteful light show to top it all off. Always mindful of his fan’s desires, many of the tracks he played, including “South Side,” “Bodyrock,” and “Why Does My Heart Feel so Bad,” showed as fan favorites on various polls taken on social networking sites and other Web media. Although the crowd wasn’t as dance-oriented as perhaps in the past, Moby maintained high levels of interest with many surprises, including a reprise of “Pale Horses” and a Johnny Cash cover, a few 6-second riffs from classic rock songs of the past, (“Sweet Child O’ Mine, Smells Like Teen Spirit,) peppered with good-natured onstage banter with his bandmates and the audience. One might surmise, however, that the Texas audience could have done a little more to show their enthusiasm, as Moby asked the audience four times if they were having a good time. If all these musical gems weren’t enough, then surely his encore was – a 17-or-so minute jam-heavy rendition of “Honey” with a special twist – a cover of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs,” featuring Bassey. His final encores included “This is Goodbye,” which he dedicated to everyone, and the rave anthem “Feelin’ So Real,” with an oft-quoted dedication the “recovering ravers,” famously being one of such himself.
Not one to be beset with groupies or obsessively natured fans, it wasn’t hard to catch Moby after the show for autographs and a few photos. It only took a bit of gentle persuasion to get the venue security to point to where Moby could be found as he left the club. Led by this reporter and husband, twelve other fans patiently waited beside the venue to meet and greet their musical hero. Moby, up close, was a tiny, thin-shouldered man, who nodded vigorously and said “Thank you, thank you,” as the small mob bobbed and jabbered about him. He drew little cartoon men as part of his signature, like the ones that decorate the liner notes of “Wait for Me.” His smiles, captured in many a fan photo, were evidence of the loving relationship between Moby, his music, and his loyal fans.