Tiernan Cannon revisits the year 2000 and the album that single-handedly transformed Moby's career.
Becca Frankland
Date published: 8th Oct 2015
Back in the year 1999, at a time when the world was 'Livin’ la Vida Loca' and Britney Spears was still dancing around in her schoolgirl outfit, things were looking grim for Moby. The hints of success and admiration that had come to him following his early releases were on the brink of being wiped out by his critical and commercial disaster of an album, Animal Rights.
The 1996 punk rock album had left fans of his original electronic work alienated and the music media firmly confused and disillusioned as to what sort of artist he truly was. He had become a self-professed “has-been” of the music industry, and early signs suggested that his new album Play would do little to change that.
The album was released in May 1999, debuting at number 33 in the UK Albums Chart, before swiftly drifting off the charts entirely. All signs were pointing towards the end of his music career, as he saw out the remainder of 1999 playing tiny support gigs for uninterested Soundgarden and Red Hot Chili Peppers fans.
But suddenly, in January 2000, the album re-entered the charts and began to slowly ascend the ranks, finally reaching the UK number one in April of that year. Play would go on to reach number one in several other countries, with a whole host of successful singles and every song on the album being licensed for use in adverts, movies and TV shows.
It was something of a cultural phenomenon that would make a star out of Moby (even today if you were to ask any given person who Moby was, they would probably still at least be able to conjure up a vague image of a bald, bespectacled vegan making electronic music).
The album itself consists of 18 tracks, constructed with layers upon layers of various samples and instrumental pieces. It kicks off without foreplay, launching straight into 'Honey' (above), an energetic, soulful number with an unmistakable piano loop and vocal sampling of Bessie Jones’ 'Sometimes'.
Moby took this sample from a collection of twentieth century folk recordings by Alan Lomax, entitled Sounds of the South: A Musical Journey from the Georgia Sea Islands to the Mississippi Delta. He samples extensively from this collection, utilising it on more songs such as 'Natural Blues' and 'Find My Baby'.
'Natural Blues' features the dark, mournful vocals of Vera Hall’s 'Trouble So Hard', with Moby’s sharp piano chords and spacey synth sounds only adding to the overall poignancy of the folk singer’s words, “Don’t nobody know my troubles but God”.
It is quite an amazing feat that Moby was able to maintain the soul and blues of the original recording while simultaneously creating a new, polished piece of electronic music. He does this on several other tracks on the album, sampling recordings that perfectly encapsulate a specific time and place and mixing them with his own postmodern spin of synthesisers and drum machines.
Ambient track 'Porcelain' (below) contains Moby’s own voice drearily opening with the lyric “In my dreams I’m dying all the time”. The tone is well and truly set from that point on as Moby proceeds to recite a tale of woe over floating ethereal tones and the album’s standard breakbeat. The song was used in Danny Boyle’s The Beach and can be said to of brought wider attention to Play than any other track on the album.
It would be difficult to pinpoint an utterly consistent description of Play other than electronica, as anything else would be far too specific for such a long and largely genre-fluttering piece. Being as long an album as it is, it mixes styles and changes dramatically at parts. Yet in spite of this, the album never feels disjointed.
It is a testament to quality of the record that it contains such diversity, yet still maintains a sense of cohesiveness. You would be forgiven for thinking, for example, that techno track 'Machete' was written by a completely different artist than say, 'Run On' - a track inspired by an old, authorless folk song - yet there they lie, together on one seamless album.
The record’s packaging includes some short essays written by Moby, with topics ranging from his opposition to religious fundamentalism, his support of veganism and his disillusionment with the U.S. prison system. Perhaps these are a tad overboard, but he at least has the self-awareness to disclose a disclaimer stating that the essays “are not really related to the music” and that if you hate them, you still may like the music. Wise words.
Play transformed Moby from a has-been into a star, providing him with the creative freedom to release an abundance of albums under the noses of the mainstream. He has released several since 1999, but none have reached the commercial heights of Play, nor does it seem likely that any future releases ever will. Another breathtaking achievement was every single track on the album was licensed for advertising, exemplifying it's enduring appeal.
The album is a standalone in his body of work; that once-in-a-lifetime piece that reaches the great masses whilst maintaining a sense of critical integrity. Even after the passing of over a decade and a half, Play is still a poignant, gripping and (most importantly) brilliant album that shall continue to have a hold over people for a long time to come.
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