Moby Love

Just when I’ve painted myself into a creative corner and I can’t find my way out, when all my inspiration is gone and the air around me feels dry and empty—that’s when I know I need some new music.

Gotta have it.

I hear some folks can get by without music, specifically without a new fix on a regular basis. But I’m just not that person. Sometimes I wish I was. Seems like life would be so much easier.

It’s like being hungry. But you don’t know where the food is. Somebody keeps moving it, hiding it, giving it to other people more worthy. By the time you get to the store, it’s all gone or worse, stale and spoiled.

Nothing worse, really, than stale, spoiled, yesterday’s leftover music. I’m not talking about the tried-and-true favorites. They last forever, like blue jeans and vintage jewelry. But I just can’t sit around, listening to the same stuff, over and over. Not if I’m trying to be creative too. I need some new rhythms to shake up and wake up my brain synapses, to make the thought patterns travel down a different corridor, hop over that brain canyon and finally, hopefully, come to some new conclusions.

Dead music. Dead ideas. Dead me.

Gotta get me some of that sugar, that sweet keep-me-up-late candy, that take-me-to-another-world-and-let-me-wander-around-all-by-myself snack.

So just when I think I’m never gonna find it, gonna have to make do with what I already got, then I find it. And I dance. All day, all night. I write and I get myself plugged into something bigger than me. Again.

It’s like love. Really.

And tonight, I’m in love all over again. I just stumbled across Moby’s new album, Wait for Me. It’s cherry sweet. Just downloaded it from iTunes and already I can feel the current flowing. Pale Horses broke my heart, but it needed to be broken. Division set the stage and I’m in my seat, ready. Mistake reminds me just how much I’ve missed Moby, how much I love his voice, his melodies, his pain-sharp musing. The almost holy chant of A Seated Night, the haunting chorus in Wait for Me, the minor chords of Slow Light. All like brand new friends who laugh at my jokes and know that sometimes, a girl’s just gotta cry.

So I think I finally found something to help me through those long hot summer nights. Something to keep my fingers pounding keyboard.

Something sweet. Got me some Moby Love.