Sunday, February 6, 2011

Moby: Fish Out of Water?

On NPR's series Project Song: From All Songs Considered, Moby works in a foreign context in a manner most writers wish they could write even in their happiest place.  Maybe this elegance comes from his (unconfirmed) literary lineage as Herman Melville's great, great, great nephew - hence the nickname he has had since he was a baby.  Maybe he is certain he knows when to embrace uncertainty and when he should put his foot down.  Or maybe he is just able to keep in mind his defined purpose:  the goal of creativity is beauty.


Project Song offers the opportunity to not only observe the external process of song creation, but it often provides insight into what artists where thinking or feeling while they where in the middle of their process.  Project Song's premise starts simple: artists have 48 hours to write a song.  But things get a little bit more complicated as participants, who may or may not be working alone in the studio NPR provides, choose five photos, mostly surrealist photography that are reminiscent of a still-shot from a David Lynch film,  and five words or phrases.  The artists pick  one photo and one word or phrase.  The photo is meant to inspire the subject of the song and the word/phrase the style.


It sounded interesting enough to me, so I surrendered: "Ok.  I should be doing other things - like working - but I will waist a few minutes watching this."  I realized time wasn't going to be waisted when I saw Moby in action.  As someone who is quite obviously an introvert, Moby prefers working and recording 1.  alone and 2. in his bedroom.  Moby was a fish out of water collaborating with Kelli Scarr in NPR's studio.  But even if he wasn't in his usual physical and psycho elements, his process doesn't seem affected.  Rather, he embraces it:  "I like the idea of hurling myself into a process that I have very little control over." This seems a strong reaction to what most people may shy away from, but maybe that is an element of the secret to his success.


The image he selects: a figure in a trench coat in the woods with a head of clouded explosions.  The word: Sunday.  Moby explains his  instant connection to this combination when he shares the fact that he spent many Sundays in his youth in the woods, alone, in strange places.  He comments simply on the "desolate quality" and "disconcerting loneliness" of the picture by saying, "I like that."


As a fan and artistic companion of David Lynch, perhaps it is to be expected.  Maybe Moby finds comfort in the disconcerting and disconnected.  After all, he was born in Harlem but spent most of his formative years in one of the richest towns in the United States, surrounded by wealth but living with his mom on welfare and food stamps.  His love and appreciation of punk and post-punk music conveys the same sentiment of contrast.  As he describes it as eclectic and as the artists as just using whatever was available.  If not romanticized, it could start to remind you of Fat Albert's Junk Yard Band - hey, hey, hey. Maybe it is a common working class mentality, but I can't help but admire the approach as well.  


After the preliminary decisions are made, things move quickly in NPR's studio.  As if he were a contestant on Amazing Race, he practically runs over to a bass guitar and starts playing a riff  in the key of E that is the zygote of the song "Go to Sleep".  As he turns to a keyboard playing a soft melody of audio xanex, his eyes  remain stern but not harsh.  He turns from the melody to a notepad, scribbles down what appears to be a few notes, says, "Ok.  Song's written," and walks away with a nonchalant but purposeful gate.


There is one slightly uncomfortable but moment where Moby reminds us that he is the master of his musical domain.  "Um.  Excuse me," he waves at the control booth, "Stop.  You changed the  level of the  click track while I was recording... You can't do that... Can you start again."  The last part seems like a question, but the control Moby has in the studio makes it a statement.


When trading ideas with his collaborator, abstractions take form, the theme and purpose of the song are further clarified, and so is Moby's ownership of his process.  Compromise is certainly a word he knows and applies, but only when he feels he should.  Kelli expresses some lyrical ideas.  Moby listens.  Moby asserts his own ideas and prevails most of the time.  While working with Kelli, his tone is never harsh.  I imagine Oprah's staff meetings to be somewhat similar:  smiles with dominance behind them and slight fear in the eyes around her.  But what does Oprah know?  She is only... Oprah.  What's Moby know?  He is only... done with this song in around 8 hours.  I could spend 8 hours just on facebook.  


But the quick turnaround with enough time to make three different versions and give an impromptu Tiny Desk Concert is not the most impressive part of this edition of Project Song, even though that is impressive.  What made the greatest impressions on me were how willing Moby was to throw himself into a situation where he was obviously uncomfortably out of control and how well he can articulate his process.  Even being in a strange situation where failure is never far away, Moby excels.  More and more I find truth in the concept of embracing uncertainty.  That has been a difficult evolution since I am a planner by nature, but I have reach a point where I can say I am flexible.  I can roll with the unexpected, and like with Moby's experiences in the self-described "unexpected success" of his career and in this specific studio experience, what you do not plan or predict can be what is best.  But his process seems to be one area where he will not compromise.  While so many artists offer the product with no explanation of the process explanation or they defer to a description of subconscious, automatic writing, Moby owns his.  His introverted tendency may be his room for metacognition and deliberate reflections.  He knows what he is doing, he knows how to explain how he does it, and he seems the better for it.


Moby reminds me to take advantage of those uncomfortable situations as they often offer personal or professional growth.  As the advice he offered to young artist in one interview echoes: diversify as much as possible because the more you can do, the more likely you are to have a career. But all of this also encourages my curiosity about process even more, which reminds me of his second piece of advice:  do what you love.  Reflecting, revising, and having some results to show for it... one brick on top of the other; such is the measure of man, and Moby.

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