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Well, this CD cover leaves something to be desired, not sure if I will ever feel the inclination to follow along with this ET knockoff that has apparently enamored Moby. But for the music….

This recording is said to have been made in Moby’s home studio. It kinda sounds like it. Known for his techno beat and lush cinematic soundscapes – I will be forced to refer to his Play CD incessantly here, unfortunately – Moby has yet to outdo himself, though that is surely not his intention with the much more personal “Wait For Me.”

I have listened to this CD about four times now, and, while I am not disappointed, I will say that I have to start by stressing that Moby is a master at sampling and remixing. So, expect a lot of familiar connections here. As a matter of fact, except for what one might consider a change of direction or shift in genre, albeit from techno to glorified muzak, there is not much new here in the realm of creativity. Yet Moby’s redeeming quality is that he loads his CDs with a lot of tracks, so on Wait For Me, as soon as you realize you are not impressed with one song, you are swept into another, then another, and another.
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Awwww, isn’t she cute? Those big doey eyes, that sad puzzled look. All Photoshopped. She’s unlucky in love. Three-quarters of the 13 songs on this disc have the words “cry” or “tear” in them. At least three of them also lament the telling of lies, sigh, a great testimony to hypocrisies inherent to the title, no doubt.

So, what exactly is going on here?

I bought this disc from Facebook’s recommendation that if I like Joni Mitchell, then I would like this chick. Problem is, this record has no allusions to any of the sophistication or talent of Joni Mitchell.

At one time, evoking Sarah McLachlan with a formulaic Adia approach on one track called Ariel, and that is as close as it gets to SM, and at other times feeling like it wants to be Natalie Merchant or Laura Nyro (even has a ‘Miracle” tune here), or even an unfunky Ricky Lee Jones or Madeleine Peyroux, this recording falls far short of reaching any of the brilliance of these classic artists, even in potential, though their lyrical influence is evident.
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I picked up this book at Barnes and Noble. Being a Christian, I was curious about its claim, which is partly that Christians are being jailed for railing publicly about homosexuality. It was written by Donald Wildmon, who now joins the hate brigade led by the likes of James Dobson, Phyllis Schaffley, and Anne Coulter, to name the few.

I was a spiritual child of the 80s, and having been in Christian radio during that time, was no stranger to Wildmon. Both as a volunteer and financially, I supported his attempts to help abused children. I have not really heard his name since then though and am not surprised to see him wind up on the hate bandwagon.

Is there bigotry against Christians? Of course there is. There is bigotry against every cultural sect. Is the media partly responsible? Of course they are. So are Christians to join the fear crowd in spotting a new but old enemy, that of the Big H and holding it responsible for the Christian’s current censorship woes? Well, apart from the obvious ludicrousness, are we not tired of beating this dead Homo horse into the ground…? This constant contention that gay people are the problem is warped, twisted and out of focus, and being undone today with the steady coming out of Christians who are also gay.
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