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Moby's reflections on his mom (I believe) had been the reason Play had been created. Cut up about her death, he eventually caves whilst working on the music and it seems to have been cathartic for him. He is aware that he is not grieving as he should, because of his conflicted feelings about her and how he grew up; 'I wasn't grieving my loss'(p.391). Eventually, he does grieve for her - not himself and changes from bratty techno up-his-own-ass wondernerd to human being in one fail swoop.
She had been so smart, so creative, so funny and had ended up with a life that disappointed her. She had loving friends and family, but I knew in her heart of hearts she had disappointed herself. She'd wanted to live in a city, paint and make music, and be around other artists. She wanted to have art shows and hang out in galleries, but her shyness prevented her from showing her remarkable paintings to anyone. So she ended up in the suburb where she'd grown up - a place she hated, but a place that was safe and familiar.
The more I thought about her sadnes and disappointments, the more I sobbed into the pillow [...]the tragedy that she had let her fear and caution keep her from having the life she'd wanted. The cigarettes and junk food helped the cancer grow, but deep down I knew that her frustration and sadness had killed her. I cried for an hour into the stiff pillowcase, mourning not her death but her compromised life. I cried because I missed her insights and her intelligence and the sound of her voice. But maily I cried for the life she'd wanted but didn't have' (p.390-91).
The more I thought about her sadnes and disappointments, the more I sobbed into the pillow [...]the tragedy that she had let her fear and caution keep her from having the life she'd wanted. The cigarettes and junk food helped the cancer grow, but deep down I knew that her frustration and sadness had killed her. I cried for an hour into the stiff pillowcase, mourning not her death but her compromised life. I cried because I missed her insights and her intelligence and the sound of her voice. But maily I cried for the life she'd wanted but didn't have' (p.390-91).
The autobiography ends with the launching of his mega album to date, namely Play. I don't think he should have ended the biography there - he should have expanded the reasoning behind Play, the idea of licencing and marketing those tracks, which, in turn became a critical success. I specifically remember The Sky Is Broken on my favourite X-File episode ever - "all things" written and directed by Gillian Anderson herself.
Score - a cagey 4 out of 5 stars. If Moby had edited some of the small incidental yakkety yak,using a certain amount of reflection instead and ended the bio by riding the crest of the Play wave, then I would have definitely awarded it the full five stars.
I do think it is worth reading and I think it will remain on my bookshelf a fair while.
Score - a cagey 4 out of 5 stars. If Moby had edited some of the small incidental yakkety yak,using a certain amount of reflection instead and ended the bio by riding the crest of the Play wave, then I would have definitely awarded it the full five stars.
I do think it is worth reading and I think it will remain on my bookshelf a fair while.
