In Random Rules, The A.V. Club asks some of its favorite people to set their MP3 players to shuffle and comment on the first few tracks that come up—no cheating or skipping embarrassing tracks allowed.
The shuffler: Moby, maker of gospel-goosed electronic music, moody rock, and diva-strewn rave anthems—all referenced on his new Go: The Very Best Of Moby.
TV On The Radio, "Staring At The Sun"
Moby: One of the things I love about TV On The Radio in general is, from a musician's or songwriter's perspective, they sort of do everything wrong, but in the most interesting way. "Staring At The Sun" shouldn't work: It's minimal and repetitive, but that's one of the things that makes it effective. The new record, I like, but it's a lot denser. I really was attached to that almost disconcerting minimalism of the first record. Like the drums on this song… It's a kick drum and a hi-hat, and that's it.
Echo & The Bunnymen, "Heaven Up Here"
M: I think if I had to pick a favorite album of all time, it'd probably be Heaven Up Here. It's odd, because it's a very overlooked record. You know, everybody loves Joy Division, justifiably, and New Order, but somehow Echo & The Bunnymen get passed over in the hipster canon. But Heaven Up Here is one of the most perfect records ever made, and this song in particular… There are certain songs that make me want to go out and get drunk and get fucked-up, like "Walk On The Wild Side," "Lust For Life," and this song. There are certain songs that when you listen to them, they feel faster than they are—they're so adrenalized. This song is the best homage to liquor. There aren't too many smart songs about being drunk. It's the best song about being obliterated on alcohol that I've ever heard.
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, "The Mercy Seat"
M: I really loved The Birthday Party, which was Nick Cave's band before The Bad Seeds. And I liked some of his solo records, because they're very nuanced and delicate, which is odd, because The Birthday Party was the exact opposite. But this song is hands-down the best thing he's ever done. It's a darker, more gothic "Common People," in that it's repetitive and just builds and builds and builds, and has an intense emotional crescendo. It's about a man on death row who's getting ready to die.
ESG, "You're No Good"
M: This record came out I think in 1982, and I was talking to someone who was 20 years old a few months ago, and she said that her two favorite artists were ESG and Brian Eno. And I was like, "How is that possible?" I'm 41, and I would say that those were two of my favorite artists as well. It's strange that, musically, the generation gap has disappeared.
The A.V. Club: Is that just a function of availability?
M: It's availability. I also think it's that alternative music in the '90s was just a wasteland. After Nirvana had success with Nevermind, suddenly all the alternative artists realized they could sell records, so they all became homogenized. Some good records came out of the '90s, but for the most part, not much happened. It was all Limp Bizkit and Puddle Of Mudd. Alternative music suddenly became very lowest-common-denominator. So a lot of people had to go back to the '60s, '70s, and '80s to rediscover… I mean, if you were a 20-year-old hipster in 2001, would you rather listen to Puddle Of Mudd, or Mission Of Burma? Would you rather listen to Limp Bizkit or the Pixies?
Bad Brains, "House Of Suffering"
M: In the early '80s, I was very involved in the hardcore punk world. My head is sort of a road map of Black Flag scars. But Bad Brains, of all of the hardcore bands, they were the best. The songs were amazing, their approach was so unique, their musicianship was remarkable, they had the craziest lead singer in the world, in good and bad ways. And this song—it's such controlled mania. It sounds like everything that is creating the music is on the verge of falling apart, like everything is being held together by duct tape, and it sounds like the end of the world.
The Rolling Stones, "Heartbreaker"
M: When people talk about iconic Rolling Stones records, somehow everyone overlooks Goats Head Soup. And it really is, I think, the best record The Rolling Stones ever made. It really is them trying to be like a Southern blaxploitation band, and they pulled it off remarkably well. It's got this sort of down-home, country, Isaac Hayes-Shaft quality to it. You read Mojo or Rolling Stone, and they talk about the best records of all time, and somehow Goats Head Soup never makes it in there. And this song—it really is one of the best blaxploitation songs ever written about New York. It just happened to be written by a bunch of white guys from England.