Last year, Moby released a memoir to huge public and critical acclaim. Titled Porcelain, it charted the producer’s journey from making music while squatting in a derelict New York factory to performing on Top of the Pops after the massive success of ‘Go’. Read an extract here.
Speaking to Mixmag, Moby has revealed that he has already finished the follow-up.
Moby said: “It’s being edited right now. The world of book publishing is very slow so don’t expect it to be out before next Spring at the earliest.”
The memoir, which starts just as Moby releases his 12 million selling album ‘Play’, will be “very, very dark.”
He added: “There’s funny and lighthearted stuff in there, but it’s mainly about how fame goes wrong, especially when you’re trying to fix emotional issues with it. Just look at Kurt Cobain and the countless other people who thought being a wealthy rockstar was going to make everything better. All evidence shows trying to fix psychological problems with fame doesn’t work.”
It’s also set to be something of a star-studded affair with Moby telling us he’s worried about getting into legal trouble with the amount of name-dropping in the book.
Speaking of the writing process, he noted: “It was very interesting because who I am now is so different from the person I’m writing about in the book. It’s disconcerting.”
Don’t hold your breath for a third memoir, though, with Moby admitting a third book would be really boring. “If I wrote a memoir now it would be like ‘I drank tea and went hiking. It would be the most tedious memoir anyone’s ever read.”
A pioneering musician on the American rave scene, Moby’s UK breakthrough came with his Twin Peaks-referencing crossover hit ‘Go’. The release landed him a deal with Elektra/Mute and an ever-decreasing amount of success, culminating in 1996’s disastrous, punky ‘Animal Rights’ album. His new autobiography, Porcelain, covers the period leading up to 1999’s worldwide smash ‘Play’, but we alight on the final leg of his ‘Animal Rights’ tour, somewhere in Eastern Europe…
Even before ‘Animal Rights’ had been released it had failed. Pre-release it had received a slew of egregiously bad reviews and my American record label had stopped returning my manager’s phone calls. Nevertheless we had an album party for the week it came out. At the party, I got drunk, played a short live set, managing to alienate the members of Blur, who for some reason were in the audience.
The next day I flew to New Orleans to play in a small bar for radio programmers at a national convention. Trent Reznor came to the show and came backstage to say hello. He said a few nice things about ‘Animal Rights’ and then went to sit in a booth. Earlier that day, I’d gotten a voice mail message from Axl Rose, who said he loved ‘Animal Rights’. He even said he’d be interested in working together. So Trent and Axl like ‘Animal Rights’. If only they wrote reviews for Spin or NME.
For my solo tour, we had opted for small European clubs, imagining them to be crowded and raucous and overflowing with punk rock energy and mayhem. Most nights, though, we had a hard time selling even 20% of the tickets in what were already tiny venues.
The final show of the ‘Animal Rights’ tour was in an Eastern European country I’d never heard of before. I held my head in my hands and said, “I’m so hungover”. As we flew, I realised I wasn’t just hungover, I had the flu. We drove to the hotel and I fell into bed feverish and promptly fell asleep.
Five minutes later, the phone rang. “Hello?” I croaked. “The promoter’s at the hotel. He’s worried about the show and really wants to talk to you,” said Ali, the tour manager.
I stood up and looked in the mirror. I wanted to feel glamorous, a rock star vaguely dissipated in a 19th century hotel. But I looked sick and bald.