1. Would I recommend it? Yes, with every fibre of my being.
2. Who would I recommend it to? Anyone that needs to relax or that wants to discover the pleasure life can provide.
3. Highlights: Almost Home with Damien Jurado, Going Wrong, The Dogs
4 Low points: Don’t Love Me with Inyang Bassey
The day I listened to Innocents for the first time should have been a day to remember. Until that point I had goals, ideas, and visions of what I wanted to do with my life. The drive was always there to entertain, and to a smaller degree to affect people in some way. I found that happening that day. That most important of days was the day I fell in love with Moby. His existence is the reason for mine. I exist only to revel in his excellence, his mastery of the emotions . . . his effect on my humanity.
Moby had never before registered in my life. I’d heard of him, and when I investigated, I found that I recognised one of his songs (Play‘s Honey from the soundtrack of Holes). While playing random albums at my work – while I was also filing photos of antiques – I stumbled across Play as a suggested link. My life changed that day, but the true revelation of Innocents was yet to come blow my metaphorical heart out of my chest and my eyes onto the table.
For my 21st birthday (we must skip now to the key parts of our story) I was given a $50 voucher for Mango Music by imminent book repair specialist Bill Tito and his wife, Jane. I rushed to buy Play (for a ridiculous $25 price tag, which is a lot for an old album – don’t be offended, great Moby, I will sacrifice all money to my passion for you) and the owner said, “you need to spend the whole voucher at once”. Together, reader, we want to beat this absurd man with sticks . . . but wait. At this moment I took a gamble on Moby’s Innocents. If it had not been for a superstar book repairman and his teacher wife – as well as the stupid owner of the (deservedly) now closed Mango Music, I would not have shaved my knees and superglued glasses to them in homage of my spiritual leader, the great Moby.
From the opening tones of Everything That Rises to the closing notes of The Dogs, my brain exploded and rearranged itself in a hyper-relaxed, contemplative state of mind. My favourite songs (the word ‘song’ is an injustice to these masterpieces of spiritual ejaculation; tossed off at the peak of Moby’s earth shattering mental climax) are the choral Almost Home, the instrumental work Going Wrong, and the moody closing track The Dogs. These are merely personal highlights from a journey begging to be undertaken by the individual – each ear will bring different reactions from each soul. The collection is an immensely effective mixture of choirs, guest singers, the brooding vocals of my Lord Moby, and music that is apparently simple . . . but designed to complete you while also questioning how you possibly survived before this.
The tracks move from smooth number to smooth number with none of the more club like numbers fellow members of the congregation will recall from 1999’s Play. Some have publicly spoken out against the lack of thudding bass, and unto them I share from the words of my Divine Protector: “Why does my heart feel so bad?” Why, you ask? Because you have forsaken our saviour. Purchase Innocents, play it 25 times, and plead for forgiveness.
In short this is the only perfect album. The heights of musical achievement have been reached and there is no purpose in attempting to overtake it. Moby has emerged victorious and all of us must drink from the Innocents cup. Stop playing music and just listen. You hear that? It is perfection in the form of the Divine Moby’s open mouthed sound lick to your ear. (Not your rear.)
This is truly an album to behold (only metaphorically, if you’re holding it, it’s not in the CD player where it should be). Partake, friends, and be absolved of all your fears. Moby is within you.