Всё летит к чертям. Автобиография. Part 2

by Moby, Моби, Н. Д. Вершинина (Translator)

Продолжение мемуаров Моби вновь возвращает вас в 1999 год. Год, когда вышел культовый альбом PLAY, сделавший из Моби суперзвезду. Эта книга – отвязная, непристойная и все же поучительная история, раскрывающая мир славы, полный демонов и пустоты.

С иронией и предельной честностью он рассказывает про все свои глупые выходки и внезапные мудрые открытия, про безудержную рейв-сцену нулевых, тусовки с Мадонной и Дэвидом Боуи и экстремальную диету из водки и экстази на завтрак. И про то, как этот безумный мир однажды развалился на части.

Genres: Music, Nonfiction, Biography, Memoir, Autobiography, Audiobook, The United States Of America

400 pages, ebook

First published April 30, 2019

About the author

Richard Melville Hall, better known by his stage name Moby, is an American DJ, singer-songwriter, and musician.

He sings and plays keyboard, guitar, bass guitar and drums. Moby became a successful artist on the ambient electronica scene, and achieved eight top 40 singles in the UK during the 1990s. In 1999 he released the album Play, a mix of melancholic chill-out, ambient music, and upbeat electronica, that was critically acclaimed and produced an impressive eight hit singles (including his most popular songs "Porcelain", "Natural Blues" and "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?"). Play became a commercial and cultural phenomenon, selling over 10 million copies worldwide (the best-selling electronica album ever) and with its eighteen songs receiving an unprecedented licensing in films, television and commercial advertisements.

His follow-up album, 18 (2002) was also successful, receiving positive to mixed response. His next offer, the mostly upbeat Hotel (2005) received lukewarm reviews and poor sales in general. Moby released his most recent albums, Last Night (2008) and Wait for Me (2009), finding good reviews and moderate sales. AllMusic considers Moby "one of the most important dance music figures of the early '90s, helping bring the music to a mainstream audience both in the UK and in America."

Reviews

[Meike · Rating 3 out of 5]

Well, you certainly can't accuse Moby of trying to make himself look good in this book! :-) In a way, his second memoir tells an archetypical story: We hear about his rise to superstardom with "Play" which seems to finally fulfill his wish for boundless validation, but money, sex and drugs can't fill the void within the guy - and believe me, he's trying. With this realization dawning upon him, his life starts to unravel. What makes this book quite good is that although we've all heard this story before (and even though this particular reader cannot identify with the author's personality the least bit), Moby makes you wonder how you would react if you had to walk in his shoes - and frankly, I would not bet on myself to gracefully manage a situation like this.

The story is interspersed with flashbacks to the author's childhood that help the reader understand what drives our protagonist: Moby was a small child when his father committed suicide, and his young hippie mother was often unemployed, stoned and generally in over her head with her life as a single-mother and widow. As a lonely, neglected and abused child, Moby started looking for ways to be seen and loved - cut to platinum-selling records - cut to insane amounts of alcohol, drugs, and sex - cut to depression and suicidal tendencies. None of this is pretty, and Moby will give you details you won't forget, although you would certainly love to get some of those images out of your head. The text sometimes walks the thin line between honesty and flashy self-exposure feat. some serious bragging, which is of course also a way to seek validation, but then again, this is a purge of a memoir that stays true to its (anti-)hero.

I know it's contradictory, but what captivated me was how obvious it was where all of this was going, but Moby makes you understand how it can happen anyway - he is not a stupid guy, and still, he makes the same mistakes as ca. 66,347,494,658 music stars before him. I wasn't bored for one second while reading this account - and have I mentioned that I've never even been a fan of Moby?

People who are looking for a detailed account of what inspires this musician or how he recorded his albums and all the other music-related facts should stay away from this book, because it's about Moby, the man. He's maybe not the nicest man around, and he would be the first one to admit to that, but he's trying, and this book talks about just that.

[Takisx · Rating 4 out of 5]

Σπουδή στην ψυχανάλυση είναι τουτο εδώ, το μεγάλο αυτό βιβλίο, ως προς στον όγκο του, ενός ανθρώπου που ποτέ δεν υπηρξα φαν του, αλλά με κέρδισε με την ειλικρίνεια του. Εδώ θα τα βρεις ολα, η σχεδόν ολα:αυτο καταστροφή, βια, πολυ αγριο κι εφήμερο σεξ, και τόνους αλκοόλ. Και πανω απο όλα, ντρακζ, άφθονα ντρακζ, ικανά να ταισουν ολάκερη την ανθρωπότητα. Τελικά την παρτίδα δεν την κερδισε ο Μομπυ, παρ ολα τα εκατομμύρια του, κι όλες τις ανέσεις του, παρέμεινε ενα ορφανό παιδί που ζούσε μεσα στο σκοτάδι, κιολα επανω του φώναζανε βοήθεια. Τελικά σώθηκε(;) αφού χτύπησε αρκετές φορές την πόρτα του Αγίου Πέτρου κι αφού δεν εισακουστηκετο καλεσμα του, επέτρεψε στσ παλιά καλά λημέρια , της ήσυχης ζωής, αυτής που δεν προσπαθείς απολύτως για τίποτα, και υπάρχεις απλώς σαν πέτρα, η σαν κορνίζα στο κομοδίνο. Κι απλώς ευγνωμονεις που υπάρχεις.

[Nigeyb · Rating 5 out of 5]

I bought this on a whim in an Audible sale. Like many people I bought and enjoyed Moby's breakthrough album Play back in 1999. That, however, is the extent of my fandom.

I was pleasantly surprised and impressed by Then It Fell Apart (2019), the second volume of Moby's memoirs.

It's a dual narrative: one strand provides excerpts from his childhood in Connecticut, the other snapshots from his gilded life after Play's global success provided wealth and celebrity.

Wonderfully this is not just another "my drug hell" story. It's insightful, extraordinarily frank, frequently surreal, shocking, celeb-filled, and self deprecating. The sex, drugs and rock n roll excess years contrast brilliantly with the poverty and his psychologically damaging upbringing with a flaky and distracted mother.

Everytime I thought he must have hit rock bottom, Moby embarked on another drink and drugs fuelled dive into debauchery and self-loathing complete with predictably appalling behaviour. As it all ends with an AA meeting, it seems likely that Then It Fell Apart is part of the amends-making part of the 12 step process.

Moby is now, apparently, over 10 years sober, and gives profits from some of his business ventures to animal rights charities, and that includes this book.

I'm baffled by some of the one and two star reviews on this site. Then It Fell Apart is a heck of story that is well written, honest, appalling and interesting. Everything I could wish for in a memoir.

5/5



What do you do when you realise you have everything you think you've ever wanted but still feel completely empty? What do you do when it all starts to fall apart? The second volume of Moby's extraordinary life story is a journey into the dark heart of fame and the demons that lurk just beneath the bling and bluster of the celebrity lifestyle.

In summer 1999, Moby released the album that defined the millennium, PLAY. Like generation-defining albums before it, PLAY was ubiquitous and catapulted Moby to superstardom. Suddenly he was hanging out with David Bowie and Lou Reed, Christina Ricci and Madonna, taking ecstasy for breakfast (most days), drinking litres of vodka (every day) and sleeping with super models (infrequently). It was a diet that couldn't last. And then it fell apart.

The second volume of Moby's memoir is a classic about the banality of fame. It is shocking, riotously entertaining, extreme and unforgiving. It is unedifying, but you can never tear your ears away.

[Christopher Blosser · Rating 1 out of 5]

A sad little book, by a sad little man. Big fan of Moby's music, and perhaps I should have expected this -- but as far as rock-star biographies go this came across as even more depressing and vacuous as any that I've read thus far (and I've read a few). Perhaps that was his intent, to capture the sheer boredom of a life of escalating debauchery, but it really could have been summarized in a few bullet points.

Moby is sad.
Moby boasts about how rich he is.
Moby provides an itemized list of drugs he's taken.
Moby provides an itemized list of the famous and not-so-famous people he's met, rubbed shoulders or copulated with.
Moby makes a fool of himself [and/or]
Moby has a one night stand [and/or]
Moby angsts over his dwindling rock star fame.
Moby feels empty.
Moby is sad.

The above punctuated by flashbacks to a rather depressing (and predictably, fatherless) childhood mired in poverty and near-absentee parenting on the part of his mother.

In his early years Moby got 'saved' and did a stint as an evangelical(?) Christian, likewise reportedly majoring in philosophy before he dropped out of college -- suffice to say I skimmed chapter after mundane chapter desparately hoping what precious little of spiritual formation he's had to date (he does allude to reading Dostoyevsky and the Confessions of Tolstoy, for example) might have paved the way for SOME kind of personal epiphany or Ecclesiastes-style contemplation on the fleeting pursuits of life. But alas, St. Augustine's "Confessions" this isn't. In fact, nothing really seems to penetrate the drug-addled and alcohol-infused haze of Moby's consciousness chapter-after-numbing-chapter until the final paragraph, when he stumbles into an AA meeting and reconciles himself to the fact that he is not a "fancier of alcohol" but actually (go figure) an addict, which I suppose sets the stage for a third volume in his memoirs.

And I want to say 'more power to him', but honestly did it seriously take you (and was I a sucker enough to have speed-read, but read nonetheless) 300+ pages?

You get a few cursory insights into the composition of the albums 'Play', '18' and 'Hotel', so there's that.

[Steve Stred · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thanks to Net Galley, Moby and the Publisher for the pre-release ARC copy for review!

Then It Fell Apart is the second autobiography by musician Moby and it picks up after his first release “Porcelain.” I read “Porcelain” when it came out, being a huge music fan and a big fan of Moby. I don’t believe you need to read the first one to follow along, but I’d highly recommend you do, simply to enjoy where Moby came from, his musical start and just how hard he had to work to reach any sort of level of stardom.

Then It Fell Apart follows up as Moby is struggling with the failure of his 1996 release “Animal Rights.” The album itself was a blast of punk energy and guitars and for many people who knew Moby as an electronic DJ, the musical output was jarring for many.

So Moby returns to his roots and puts together the album “Play.” While most casual fans will know it for the multi-million selling album that had every song optioned in some form or another, it was actually a failure upon launch.

From here the book bounces back and forth between 1999 to roughly 2008 and Moby’s younger, formative years. It’s another fascinating look into an eclectic artist’s life and just what influenced him to arrive where he did.

The stories he shares fall along a sliding chart from sweet, sappy and joyful, to cringe-worthy and awful. One of the sweetest stories within was his sharing of the dinner he had with David Bowie, Iman, Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson. It was great reading how much Moby worshipped and idolized Bowie, but how he treated him like an equal and gifted him with a fantastic musical instrument. Moby doesn’t pull punches on his self-reflection and throughout he frequently states how he didn’t care as long as he had his fame, his money and people were talking about him, he was happy. He goes into great detail discussing just how selfish he was during this time, but how inside he kept telling himself he was happy because other celebrities knew who he was, he was getting and taking copious amounts of drugs and people were coming to watch his shows.

Then the album “18” was released in 2002 and the sales were good, but not great. Then “Hotel” came out in 2005 and the world had moved on. While he still had some hit singles, he was no longer the headliner and was struggling internally with what was happening.

It’s a fascinating insight into the “celebrity” mind of Moby, especially now when you follow him on any of his social media accounts and see just how active he is with social issues and how much charitable work he does.

Overall, I really did enjoy the book. My biggest criticism of it directly relates to the stories told. Many of them felt unresolved and unfinished. Two specific examples would be his time with Vinnie Paul and Dimebag Darrell from Pantera and his feud with Eminem. With the Pantera brothers he discusses how much he loved Pantera and meeting them was a dream. He hangs out with them and Tommy Lee for a fun night and then that’s it. The story ends and we move on. Maybe it’ll be discussed in a third release, but I felt cheated as a reader that he didn’t discuss Dimebag’s horrific death and if it affected him performing live at all. Vinnie Paul has since passed on later in 2018, so I don’t believe Moby would’ve been able to write about that based on the timeline, but reading that story now, I thought it would’ve sufficed to have a bit of a follow-up on their time together.

The same can be said with his feud with Eminem. I remember how big of a deal this was. I remember Eminem having a temper tantrum at the MTV Video Awards and punching Triumph the Insult Comic Dog. Moby goes into a bit of detail regarding it and how he suddenly realized Eminem was dead serious about it and how some Hip-Hop and Rap musicians distanced themselves from Moby. Moby even mentions that Eminem drew a detailed picture of himself choking Moby. Then the story ends and we move on. I wanted to know what happened. Was it discussed behind the scenes? Did Moby and Eminem ever talk about it? Why didn’t Moby contact authorities about the picture? If anything it could’ve bumped some of his album sales back then. Moby does mention later on that old-school New York Hip-Hop musicians kept supporting him, but that’s it, a single paragraph a few chapters later. I just wished for more resolution for some of the stories, but that’s me personally, and the stories themselves were entertaining.

My last little criticism, and this is because I’m such a massive music and Moby fan – not enough stories/back ground on actually making the albums. I would’ve loved to hear some of the inspirations behind some of Moby’s biggest and most loved songs.

To wrap this up, criticisms aside, I think this was a really well done follow-up, but also a solid stand-alone autobiography. Made me appreciate just how hard the struggle can be for even the most established musicians. I think people will really enjoy this release, and from the way it ended, I’ll be looking forward to a third entry.

Review appears at my blog;
https://stevestredauthor.wordpress.co...

[Katie Zarudzki · Rating 2 out of 5]

I adore Moby and his first book was excellent. This was cringeworthy from cover to cover. I had to force myself to finish it.

Save yourself a read and just know that in between hating himself and buying a lot of real estate, Moby reallllly wants everyone to know he got laid a lot in the 2000s.

If he writes a third book that documents his decade of animal activism I will likely read it...but this...yeah...there’s a reason he’s been doing nothing but posting apologies on his IG since it came out.

[Leonidas Moumouris · Rating 2 out of 5]

Μερικές φορές καλύτερα είναι να μη ξέρεις. Αυτό σκέφτομαι τώρα που έκλεισα αυτό το αυτοβιογραφικό πηγάδι.
Ο Moby ήταν για μένα απ'τις πιο συμπαθείς φιγούρες του μουσικού star system.
Η συναυλία του στον Λυκαβηττό πριν από πάνω από 20 χρόνια είναι από τις αρτιότερες και γεμάτες ενέργεια που έχω παρακολουθήσει ποτέ και ο ίδιος φάνταζε στα μάτια μου σεμνός και γήινος.
Τι διάβασα λοιπόν. Πολλά ναρκωτικά, πολύ αλκοόλ, τραυματικά παιδικά χρόνια που δικαιολογούν (;) συμπεριφορές, πολύ show off γνωριμιών και το χειρότερο; Πολύ σεξ.
Θα μου πεις τι κακό έχει το πολύ σεξ;
Έχει όταν γράφεις ένα βιβλίο που οι παρτενέρ σου ακόμα και της μιας βραδιάς αναφέρονται με το όνομα τους.
Δεν βλέπω κανέναν λόγο να ξέρω ότι τη βοηθό του τη γνώρισε σε ένα μπαρ ήπιαν και πηδηχτηκαν σε ένα αυτοκίνητο.
Όλο το βιβλίο γεμάτο ονόματα γυναικών που πήδηξε ή σχετίστηκε ο Moby.
Όταν ισχυριζεσαι πως είσαι πολέμιος του μισογυνισμού και επιτίθεσαι στον Έμινεμ για τους στίχους του, δεν μπορείς να διασυρεις έτσι ένα σωρό γυναίκες στο βιβλίο σου.
Και το να αναφέρεις τα ονόματα τους περιγράφοντας νύχτες παρακμής γεμάτες αλκοόλ και ναρκωτικά είναι τεράστιο φάουλ μίστερ.

[Otto Lehto · Rating 3 out of 5]

"More of the same" best characterizes this second volume of Moby's autobiography despite the fact that it tries to distinguish itself from Porcelain: A Memoir through two rather superficial tricks: 1) It alternates between two timelines. Every other chapter deals with the young Moby in his poor and dysfunctional childhood while the rest deal with the middle-aged Moby in his rich and dysfunctional adulthood. 2) It doubles down on the first book's self-loathing and self-pity (hence the title, "Then It Fell Apart") through rampant depictions on depression, anxiety, love trouble, alcohol and drug abuse, spiritual nihilism, and suicidal tendencies. But neither of these factors is that interesting and the book should be seen as a direct continuation of the first book.

The substance of the book (by which I don't mean alcohol and other drugs) remains predictable: meeting famous person A, doing drug B, screwing woman C, suffering from depression D, traveling to country E, performing at festival F... rinse and repeat. The childhood reminiscences are welcome and sometimes touching interludes but I don't think the alternating chapter structure works that well or was necessary. However, the book remains rather well written on a technical level despite the fact that the prose itself is rather simple and unadventurous. At the very least, unlike many other autobiographies, it feels well-edited and well-paced to satisfy an impatient reader.

I liked this second volume slightly less than the first volume. It really is just more of the same. I found the origin story of the struggling artist in the first volume more interesting than the ongoing story of the washed up middle aged artist presented here. At the same time, the promise of serious self-reflection remains unfulfilled. The book touches on serious issues but lacks sufficient self-awareness to get into them at any depth. Some rushed chapters, like the one on his feud with Eminem, feel like missed opportunities. At the same time, other chapters, like the never-ending exposes of his drug-fueled womanizing are just as self-indulgent and airheaded as you might imagine. So, it is not that interesting or special in the pantheon of rock biographies. On the plus side, it is well-paced, never boring, and can be pretty funny. So, pretty middling overall.

[Jaime · Rating 4 out of 5]

I confessed, back in the iPod days, I downloaded two Moby’s songs that till this day I like: “Southside” and “ We are all made of stars.”
Moby at one point was flying high but it didn’t last forever. He is very candid and honest in this sequel to his autobiography that I haven’t read nor do I think I missed a large portion of his famed and fainting stardom.
I knew of “Moby” the artist and now I know “Moby” the human being. Cool.

[Kirsty · Rating 2 out of 5]

I ended up giving up on this. It did start well – I was interested in Moby's childhood struggles, his neglectful parents and the way he was left to his own devices much of the time; it's interesting to see how this sort of childhood boredom can lead to a creative adult. I often wonder if I'd be a writer now if I wasn't bored often as a child (though my parents weren't at all neglectful and they did feed me three times a day!). I was interested in the stuff about fame too, and how he thought the fans and money would make him happy, but they didn't. He does try to be self-deprecating, but it didn't really ring true; his self-burns feel a bit lacklustre, like he's only saying it so that people reply with 'no, don't say that, you're brilliant'.

But I had to give up at all the stuff about Natalie Portman. It just made my skin crawl, particularly in light of the recent things online where she seems to think they were just friends hanging out and he shared a photo of them together where he's half-naked and she looks very unhappy about it – you're not proving your point there, dude.

[Becca Boland · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book. I had an uneasy feeling the entire time I was reading it. Something didn't feel right about it. It is exceptionally self-serving (but I guess one could argue that a memoir can't be anything but self-serving). Moby had a very rough childhood, yes. It's sometimes hard to read. But everything feels like either "I deserve everything I have because my life was hard" or "how amazing am I for overcoming all of this?"

But, after reading, I read all of the statements by people he referenced in the book and while some he didn't even verify the spelling of - others (Natalie Portman) he just altered the truth to make himself sound less gross.

Do not recommend. 1.5 stars? I guess? I finished it. I could have stopped. So, that's something.

Genre: Arts and Entertainment; Autobiographies and memoirs; Life stories
Tone: Gossipy
Writing Style: Candid

[Jane Settles cigarran · Rating 1 out of 5]

A REVIEW OF MOBY (DICK)

Moby, that DJ guy that did that song(s) featured in the Adidas, Maxwell House, Volkswagen, Apple, Nokia, ad (ad nauseum) commercials back in the early 2000s. Remember that Leonardo DiCaprio movie "The Island"? You don't? Well YouTube the trailer and that's Moby too. Every song on his multi-million selling, career exploding, life creating/destroying 1999 album "Play" was licensed for additional profit, be it a movie, television show or commercial. Elevator "ambient" music for the new millennium, paired with some well placed pop ditties. It was a music licensing, money reaping juggernaut. The sounds became a veneer that made whatever was trying to be sold more palatable and somehow...cool? I personally only owned his far less successful 1995 album "Everything Is Wrong" and remember reading the liner notes about how the world was dying and basically everyone was responsible (except for him) and remember feeling guilty that I ate meat, drove a car in LA traffic, and didn't actively protest against pollution. He was a more enlightened, better person that me...obviously. That said, the only song that I would consistently "burn" to a playlist was "Every Time You Touch Me" because it reminded of Black Box and other early 1990s club hits that made you feel a Club MTV dancer. Who was that amazing black, female voice singing on the track? It's not that little white dude on the cover but I guess he put it all together or something.

This is Moby's second autobiography at the tender age of 53. Is his life worthy of 2 autobiographies and suggestion of a 3rd? Why should we care? The Natalie Portman incident is what brought my attention to it and that was likely not a mistake on the part of the writer or the publisher. The truth is most people likely wouldn't care but Portman decided to speak out against the stories told about her in this book and took the scribe to task. After hearing about the controversy I was intrigued enough to check the book out at the library (no legal tender exchanged) and see what was going on. The blatantly misogynist, narcissistic, stories of rich, rock star nihilism that he shares is achingly desperate, mean, and sad, even when he's trying to sound cool (which is the majority of the time). The infamous Led Zeppelin mud shark groupie hotel incident seems like a quaint 4-H campfire tale compared to the despicable debauchery Moby spends the large majority of this memoir recounting.

But why? In the last sentence of the book (spoiler alert) he states, with hushed profundity that he is "an alcoholic." For any reader who stuck it out to the end, this is a really dull ending. I'm not EVEN going to go in to the uncountable tales of sexual conquest he entails in this book, it's irrelevant. What was interesting to me was that he made a point of calling out by name the majority of the women he had sex with, or did copious amounts of drugs with but when it came to the men that may have somehow been involved in his downward spiral, he largely kept them anonymous; the male model mysteriously named "D" who Jaguar the stripper ditched him for after doing 4 lines of special K, the 20 year sober unnamed rock star guy who made him see the light about his addiction. He rarely goes in to detail about anything unsavory with the male figures in this book, but makes sure to meticulously detail his disturbing late night exploits with women, rarely holding back names. For example, "Mobes" recounts a lovely discussion at 3am with Bono, Michael Stipe and Salman Rushdie at the hip downtown club Sway where we assume no drugs were done at all, even as the morning light was peaking through the blackout curtains of the club. The reader is left to believe Bono was suavely sipping a glass of $300 champage as he complimented Moby on on his "Animal Rights" album, before departing in to the early morning as fresh as a daisy. We learn a lot more about the chick the writer had sex with later that morning though...after meeting with the brilliant male minds.

Natalie Portman, Lizzy (he spelled her name wrong) Grant (aka Lana Del Rey), Kelly from teany, a myriad of girls who worked for him, they all get called out by name for either allegedly dating him, doing with or procuring drugs for him or starring in a meticulously detailed sexual romp. How one can remember anything after 20 drinks, multiple hits of E, coke, etc, and then write about it accurately is up to the reader to decide. I love memoirs, but this felt like a work of pure fiction. A fiction he desperately believes, even in his sobriety, to be true. For Faber & Faber to publish this manuscript without first fact checking seems unprofessional at best and libelist an worst.

One of the most illuminating examples of Moby's narcissistic disregard for reality is how he describes his feud with the rapper Eminem. By the time we get to this part, we have already read countless tales of Moby's sexual exploits and complete lack of respect for women, yet he seemingly was able to gloss over this in his mind as he describes how misogynistic Eminem's lyrics are. Without a morsel of contriteness, he completely justifies his attack on the rapper when he was widely quoted in the press suggesting Eminem wanted to date him. Knowing what we know now about Moby, the taunt against Eminem's admittedly sexist rap lyrics seem like a way to justify or erase his own disgusting behavior in his private life. At least Eminem is honest about his misogyny.

In a nutshell, when his parents decided to give him the nickname "Moby" as a nod to his great, great, great, grand uncle Herman Melville (author of Moby Dick), reading "Then It Fell Apart" makes it clear they should have opted for "Dick" instead.

[Sonia Almeida Dias (Peixinho de Prata) · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was pleasantly surprised with this book. I don't usually read memoirs, or biographies in general. My non fiction usually leans more towards science and travel books.

However, this was recommended to me, so I went for it.

And I did enjoy it very much. It is well written and gives us an interesting insight into the glamourous (or not so much) life of a "rock" star. Moby is very candid in telling us episodes of his life, and the chapters in between that go back to his childhood help provide context for some of the behaviours we see on the pages.

It was a very engaging and interesting read, even if you are not a fan of the music (which I already was).

[Mark · Rating 3 out of 5]

Moby's second part of his autobiography (his first instalment, Porcelain, I had read back in January this year) Then it fell apart is taken from one of his most popular yet misunderstood tracks, Extreme Ways.

It perfectly encapsules his lifestyle post-Play success in 1999: debauchery, hedonism, sex, drugs, alcohol and a lot of anxiety (and depressive thoughts). One thing which really strikes you all throughout is his brutal honesty, and he is not really interested in painting a good picture of himself: recovering addicts rarely do. I visualised Moby writing this as part of his plan to exorcise all his demons.

Pity this book is not consistent as Porcelain, cause at some point you grow tired of reading the same vicious cycle for the thousandth time.

Nonetheless I feel nothing but admiration towards Moby the person (who definitely didnt have an easy childhood) before the brilliant musician he is.

[Jak Krumholtz · Rating 4 out of 5]

My father-in-law dislikes reading biographies because he tends to come away with negative views of people he’d once liked. Moby learning massive rockstar excess won’t bury his insecurities made for fascinating tabloid reading that left me sad and reflecting on his state of mind for various career touch points I’d enjoyed. Even sharing tea with my future wife in his Kelly’s humble tea shop now has new meaning.

[Juan Araizaga · Rating 4 out of 5]

12 days and 394 pages later. The second book i´ve read of Moby, this is the continuation of his first memory: Porcelain. (which i loved).

This book take part since the end of play until the mid of last night (albums), and so much events in his youth (all the facts of his youth were hearthbreaking and sad). I never thought the life of moby were so hard and empty.

When he came to Mexico in 2009 I saw him and never crossed my mind he was so fucked up, i mean, he was really fucked up in those moments.

This book is like see in his mind, all his creative process and all of his thoughts... but also is a hard book, is very tiring reading almost the same in 400 pages: panic attacks, casual sex and insecurity.

I think the music stands aside in this volume. I did not enjoy so much all the songs, was too long for me.

I love moby but now i see him with different eyes, I don´t know if this is good or bad.

PS: Hotel will be my favourite album of all the entire life.

Wont be a formal review.

[Yannis · Rating 3 out of 5]

Κάπου μέσα στον τηγανισμένο εγκέφαλο του Μόμπι υπάρχει ένας Κοέλιο - με την καλή έννοια - και οι δυό μαζί, ζουν ευτυχισμένοι το δράμα τους.

[Keen Reader · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 Stars!

“I was six years old, my dad was dead, my mom was a hippie, I was poor, and I’d just been unceremoniously dumped in a suburban backyard by a stoned, furious motorcycle gang member.”

Los Angeles does not have a population of 20 million people, Albert Camus did not kill himself, Ukraine wasn’t a country when Moby was young and as Natalie Portman has felt the need to announce publicly, she was actually 18 when she dated Moby and not 20 as he claims. God knows who proof read or edited this book, but it may well have been the same person who did the predecessor which had its fair share of mistakes, but these oversights add up to a bit of a horror show of inaccuracies.

FIRST RULE OF VEGAN CLUB…Never stop talking about vegan club. Almost every single time that any form of food stuff is ever mentioned he feels the need to remind us that it is vegan, organic or macrobiotic. Exactly as he did with his last memoir. There is surely great drinking game potential with this, for every time the word ‘vegan’ is mentioned.

Sticking with the musical related theme, often celebs/pop stars and their publishers pad out their life stories in order to maximise the cash in, when really what we end up with is the equivalent of a bloated double album that could have been a really good single one. Jimmy Barnes would be another recent example of this.

Some of Moby’s recollections of his childhood are nothing short of heart breaking. One specific scene, which I will not describe was simply awful to read and it just makes you so angry and frustrated on his behalf, so only he knows how terrible it must have been to have endured it first-hand. On the other hand, the warmth and fondness in which he describes his love for music was nice to read, the way he scrimped and saved for those first pieces of vinyl and how they transported him off to somewhere else, was really well done and so relatable.

His restless, chaotic and deeply irresponsible mother didn’t always appear to have her son’s best interests at heart, routinely choosing drugs, drink and men over his welfare, which is maddening to read. As well as the ever changing cast of boyfriends the scene where they go to the store and don’t have enough to pay for the groceries and she allows her son to put the ravioli and bread back so that she can buy her cigarettes, is awful. Or allowing some guy to sell drugs from the house her son was living in also makes for difficult reading.

One of the more admirable elements of this biography is that he openly describes various brief encounters with the likes of Steven Tyler, Russell Crowe, Mick Jagger, and every one of them sound beyond awful. He doesn’t do that thing, which is especially bad in the US, where the majority of celebs describe everyone else as so great etc as they are too scared to speak out in case it harms their career.

Without doubt the most sinister celeb experience is when he is at the MTV awards and Eminem is sitting in front of him. The middle aged wigga turns and says to him, “You’re dead.” just like every other school bully does. This was before punching a hand puppet. Mathers then handed him a picture of him strangling Moby. When later collecting an award he claimed, “I will hit a man with glasses.”. At the same event later on when Moby asks Andre 3000 if he would like to work with him, he goes all weird and says, “You know I like you, but just too many people are hating on you right now.” Again another sound bite straight from the playground.

The confessional, all cards on the table nature of this account does produce more than its fair share of cringeworthy moments (and not all of them intentional). But his ability to laugh and mock himself and his many glaring hypocrisies should be applauded. It is not long before this begins to read like a cross between a Bret Easton Ellis novel and a John Hughes movie, complete with the soundtrack. But far too often the descriptions of drink and drugs are as trite, melodramatic and superficial as entries in a teenager’s diary.

Without doubt this is an entertaining read, and it is a bit of a page turner but it is not necessarily all that well-written and like last time round the fact checking is suspect and really should be better. This is also a deeply sad read, it ends in 2008, with him stating the obvious, which makes me worry that surely to god they are not trying to get away with churning out a third memoir out of his brand?...

[Antony Stubbs · Rating 5 out of 5]

Needs a squeal! What a cliff hanger...

[CC · Rating 4 out of 5]

"As I was leaving my hotel the receptionist asked, “Do you need validation?” She was asking if I wanted the hotel to stamp my valet-parking stub, but for a second I got excited, thinking she was offering to give meaning to my life."

I chose this quote for my review because I felt that it sums up Then It Fell Apart quite nicely. In fact, most of the book seems to be Moby, both at the highest highs and the lowest lows, ever seeking validation from friends, acquaintances and total strangers. An admitted narcissist, he lays himself bare with some truly rock and roll stories but at the same time, amidst the constant name dropping and cataloguing of material wealth I never got the sense that this book was anything but a personal catharsis. The stories about using up and abandoning women, demanding drugs and shambling from place to place are shared almost like collected badges of honour. At no point did I really feel any regret behind the words that were written. But then I thought, maybe I am focused on the wrong thing, and maybe there is no reason for regret. Maybe these experiences were necessary, as a journey- not a final destination nor the sum of one man's parts. As the book came abruptly to a close, with simple and familiar words that take a lifetime for some to say, I realised that it finished not at Moby's end, but at his beginning.

[Betty · Rating 4 out of 5]

My goodness, this is the saddest book I’ve read in a very long time. I give it 4 stars because it’s very well written, and the editing is excellent. Moby writes about his childhood and teen years and those chapters are interspersed with his rock star years after Play was released. How this man is still alive confounds me. My insides hurt just reading about all the booze and drugs he would take on a nightly basis. I would lean towards a 3 star rating because the debauchery parts get so redundant, honestly I was skimming some chapters towards the end. But I get that it builds up to his ultimate rock bottom (spiraled down, rather than built up, I suppose). I hope he writes a third, happy book to follow this. I truly hope the life I see him living on Instagram isn’t a sham and that he really is a sober, meditating hippie in a lovely house in California. I never realized what a sad life the poor thing has lived and I hope he finds his happy ending.

[Amar Pai · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't endorse Moby in any way shape or form-- never liked his music, never liked him as a personality-- but this is an entertaining read. I have a weakness for tales of sex drugs and rock n roll-- rock star debauchery-- and from a prurient point of view this book delivers. He was really living that life! But at the same time the book is compelling because Moby is so pathetic. I dunno it just had me turning the pages. Despite Moby being the epitome of a mediocre white man getting unjustly rewarded with riches, I have to give this book four stars.

[Brad H · Rating 1 out of 5]

I hope Moby writes a third book. This one was very disappointing given how good his first book Porcelain was. In this book Moby spends his time name dropping sad and unnecessary stories about every celebrity he's met. I hope a third book will bring a happy ending to his story.

[ukuklele · Rating 2 out of 5]

Saya langsung melanjutkan ke buku ini setelah buku yang pertama, Porcelain , karena kadung hangat. Isinya masih sama, kurang lebih. Hanya dalam buku ini tiap bab dijuduli dengan nama tempat dan tahun, selang-seling antara masa kecil Moby (1960-an sampai 1980-an) dan masa yang belakangan (2000-an, setelah kesuksesannya dengan album Play).

Saya tidak mempermasalahkan elemen yang berulang-ulang (problemnya dengan sex, drugs, 'n alcohol serta kesehatan mental), sebagaimana yang dikeluhkan sebagian reviewer di Goodreads sini. Kalau ingat curhat saya di catatan harian serta kepada teman-teman selama bertahun-tahun ini, isinya, ya, masalah yang begitu-begitu melulu yang khawatirnya mengarah kepada downward spiral (lah, kok jadi curhat juga di sini?) sebagaimana Moby yang sempat sober kemudian minum-minum lagi, menahan diri dari coke kemudian ikut mengonsumsi. Kebetulan saya baru menonton dokumenter tentang depresi di YouTube, yang membuat Moby berkesan sebagai "lelaki sejati". Dokumenter itu mengatakan bahwa saat mengalami depresi, lelaki cenderung kepada denial dan mencari pelampiasan yang action-oriented, misalnya dengan madat atau bunuh diri sekalian. Memoar ini pun diakhiri dengan pengakuan (atau penerimaan?) diri bahwa dia alkoholik.

Saya juga tidak mempermasalahkan bagaimana di samping mengumbar segala macam aibnya, ia juga mengungkapkan berbagai pencapaiannya entahkah dari segi material atau seksual atau apa atau istilah kerennya: humblebragging. Sepertinya bisa dimaklumi bahwa orang dengan low self-esteem secara sadar-tidak-sadar melakukannya untuk menyadarkan bahwa dirinya masih punya self-esteem.

Saya juga tidak mempermasalahkan kisah hidupnya yang overall hampir-hampir klise: bagaimana dia dibesarkan dalam keluarga yang dysfunctional dan miskin, perjalanannya menggeluti passion selama bertahun-tahun berikut naik-turunnya hingga mencapai puncak, tetapi kesuksesan rupanya tidak membuatnya bahagia sebab hantu masa lalu terus menggayutinya.

Saya juga tidak mempermasalahkan reka ulang setiap adegan berikut detailnya yang meragukan. Saya membaca buku ini hanya karena sedang menginginkan narasi yang relatif ringan dan mengalir. Dengan mengesampingkan kritik "bagaimana orang dapat mengingat kenangan sejelas itu?", buku ini cukup realistis untuk dinikmati.

Sekarang saya penasaran membaca buku tentang kisah hidup Eminem, yang menurut Moby dalam memoarnya ini, punya latar belakang yang rada-rada mirip tapi entah kenapa malah membencinya.

[James Kealey · Rating 4 out of 5]

I bought this for a fiver a couple of months back when I visited a pal down Bristol. Last Bookshop. I think it's the sort of bookstore that saves books from being turned into pulp. Buys lots at a steep discount. Fun place. Lot of tat in there lol

This book is really interesting. In that it's very readable. Typical rock star pitfalls (addiction, excess, personal struggle). I think Moby is a great writer at times.

The times when he kept a diary compared to when he's just trying to remember details from memory feels so apparent. When he meets Bowie and hangs out with Lou Reed and him - there's so much minutiae and smaller moments in these anecdotes. So much more refined.

But some of the other stuff stuff he recalls. It's not just the Natalie Portman stuff (although blimey lol). What he believes to be important in this is so... I think it's more telling of Moby. There's a chapter where he rubs his dick across Donald Trump. Like hang on? 1000 stories about hanging out with every celeb and gangster under the sun. Supposedly warts and all but I think it's curated too much to what he thinks people want to read about.

Although, hey it's his stories and his life. And to be honest? He was caning it for decades. Absolute myriad of drugs consumed. Some of the stories are proper out there. But told through a very Moby sour and dour way. He's consistent in that approach.

The moment where he's at the high school party and that guy says he respects him. Seared in Moby's brain. Felt honest

Many years ago I listened to this podcast called Heavyweights. One episode was about this guy who lends Moby a bunch of CDs. He uses them as the basis for PLAY. How I remember it, Moby at the end half acknowledges that he gave em the CDs but refuses to give em back and it was proper ludicrous. Delightful

I'm actually a huge fan of Moby.

Anyway yeah not bad for a fiver

[Michael Bohli · Rating 4 out of 5]

Achtung: Nebst der Gefahr, dass man beim Lesen dieses Buches immer wieder gewisse Moby-Songs als Ohrwürmer durch den Tag trägt, behandelt diese Autobiografie schonungslos Themen wie Suizid, Drogensucht und Sex.

“Don’t you know who I am?” Nach seinem Beginn und dem kommerziellen Aufstieg, welche der Musiker in seinem ersten, biografischen Buch “Porcelain” beschrieben hatte, widmet sich Richard Melville Hall mit dem zweiten Band “Then It Fell Apart” den düsteren und hoffnungslosen Stunden in seinem Leben. Das geschieht nicht nur auf eine lockere und zugängliche Weise, sondern überrascht, ja schockt gar immer wieder mit Offenheit und brutaler Ehrlichkeit. Eskapaden werden in allen dreckigen Details beschrieben, psychische Probleme und Kämpfe dargelegt.

Schon früh in seinem Leben mit einer starken Form von Panikattacken diagnostiziert, flüchtete sich Moby durch den weltweiten Erfolg mit dem Album “Play” in einen Alltag voller Alkohol, harten Drogen, schnellem Sex und emotionaler Leere. Ein Verhalten, das er selber schon in jungen Jahren bei grossen Bands beobachten konnte, aber nie so enden wollte. Aber es kommt im Leben eben immer anders und der Amerikaner zersplitterte völlig. Da halfen weder Aufmerksamkeit noch Begehren, das Dasein wurde zu einem selbstzerstörerischen Strudel.

Die ganze Rezension findet ihr auf Artnoir.ch.

[Barry Hammond · Rating 4 out of 5]

Picking up where his first memoir, Porcelain, left off, Moby recounts how the album (Play) he thought was going to bomb took off and became his biggest selling record ever. From living in squalid NYC lofts he skyrocketed to having a 60-acre gated estate and a multi-floored penthouse apartment in prime NY real estate. He was suddenly in demand everywhere, recognized by his heroes and peers, and living a rock star life. He also spiraled into alcoholism, multi-drug use, and an all time low in self-esteem, frequent panic attacks, and suicidal thoughts. Despite all of the above, he still manages to interject his trademark wry humor and an ability to look at himself and his excesses objectively and with a cynical detachment that makes this a laugh-out-loud and extremely entertaining read. Even if you hate everything about this artist, I'd still recommend both memoirs as must-reads.

[Mat Davies · Rating 4 out of 5]

Moby’s second autobiography focuses on the decade that followed where the 2016 tome Porcelain ended. Post the success of his juggernaut album, Play, this is a no holds barred, often excruciating, long dark night of the soul. It’s as much a book about the vapid and banal nature of fame as it is about Moby’s search for meaning. A decade that should see him find peace and happiness soon morphs into a descent and fall that seems inevitable and painful. There is no self pity and at times Moby comes over as selfish and misanthropic. As a narrator, he’s never anything less than compelling and his anecdotes veer between hilarious and appalling, often simultaneously. The tone of the book is understandably downbeat but I found it hard to put down, such is the strength of his storytelling and prose.

[Jan Ryswyck · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is probably the most honest biography I have read to date. Moby openly describes both his childhood years as well as his life of debauchery during the 2000 to 2008 timeframe.
I've always been a big fan of his music since the very early days. I think it was 1991 when I bought my very first copy of Go on vinyl (I now own eight different vinyl copies of that specific track alone). Now, I'm a big fan of his writing as well.

I've listened to the audio version of the book. Just as his previous book Porcelain, this one is read by Moby itself. Listening to him telling the story about how he "knob touched" Donald Trump is just priceless!

[Amy Brandon · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a really great follow up to Porcelain. This book got me thinking a lot about cancel culture. I like writing off assholes as much as the next guy but the truth is everyone makes mistakes. Also I’m very tired of being angry. I don’t think Moby tries to hide anything or lie about some incredible growth. It’s honest and chaotic and so is life.