First things, first. In the interest of full-disclosure, my relationship with Moby is somewhere between good friends and acquaintances, which is to say, he's been to a birthday party of mine, I've hung out with his band mates, Laura Dawn, and Darren Murphy, and know their drummer, Aaron Brooks, because we worked together for several years at the Village Voice, where he was an IT guy, and spent many hours explaining computerese to me. Also, I've been in Moby's hot tub, but you'll have to click after the jump to find out if anyone was naked in said hot tub.

Psyche! (No, neither of us was naked, but a rather prominent newscaster at a major network was. Cue the gossip wags.)

Onward with the totally, unabashedly non-objective review of the evening: Like Moby, I am an "unrepentant raver"—words which he used to describe himself last night—so I am drawn more to the Moby-as-dance-music artist, than the Moby-as-rocker configuration. I was shocked, shocked! I tell you to discover that I preferred the more traditional, "rockist" portion of the band's three-pronged set.

The band wasted no time turning the very civilized, seated crowd into dancing maniacs, playing their techno-heavy hits back to back, including, "Go," "Bodyrock" and "Disco Lies."

By the end of that portion, the audience was on their feet and then it all came to very abrupt, awkward halt when Nic Harcourt came out and sat on the couch, and began to ask Moby questions. I half expected them to start sipping tea.

Harcourt's interview—broadcast live—started with a Hollywood-friendly question: "If you could pick a Scientologist to kill you, who would it be? (Moby picked Jason Lee). The rest of the interview was pretty basic, how you got into music 101, fare, asking Moby about his musical firsts.

Here we learned that "Proud Mary" was his first musical memory; his first make out session that went to second base was to "Dream On," a recollection during which he shared that his current 40-something-old male breasts are now larger than the teenage girl in question, to which Harcourt appropriately warned him: "That was WAY too much information." We also learned that he was a loner who would sit in the corner at lunch and listen to Joy Division records. (Shocka!)

He explained that he thought he'd never make it in music, "and I'd spend my entire life teaching community college and that maybe I might have a girlfriend who would listen to my music."

Even though Play, his biggest record, would eventually become critically acclaimed, the initial reaction was not so rosy. "My favorite review was in either in the LA Weekly or LA Times, and it was almost like a Spinal Tap review. The writer wrote, 'There's a song on the record called, "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?' and it's because I had to listen to this album.''"

Moby's pretty self-depreciating and self-aware, and is one of the only people that's actually good at onstage banter. He told fanboy, "name-dropping rock star stories" about giddily playing "Heroes" with David Bowie on his couch; or being trapped in cocaine-addled conversations with washed out 80s rock stars talking about the Celestine Prophecy. Throughout the evening, he asked if "Everyone was still having a nice time," and explained that he wasn't kneeling in between songs to affect a "rock star pose." Rather, it was because he was old and couldn't see the set list. "So," he paused before starting the next song. "Clearly, God hates me and has taken away my hair and given me bad eyes."

With that they launched into the psychedelic, more rockin' portion of the set, that included a song that was beatboxed by their keyboardist, a rendition of "We Are All Made of Stars," and a slower, heavier version of "Porcelain." During this part of the set, audience members would be forgiven if they thought Moby had turned into a hot blond chick. His vocalist Laura Dawn (also heavily involved in Moveon) basically took over during this leg and it was divine. They ended with extended renditions of "Next is the E," and "Honey."


Afterward, we all dutifully filed in the "green room," where actress Heather Graham also hung out waiting to greet the band. Near, the end of the evening, a female fan came up to Moby and congratulated him on the set. "I feel like you're my friend, now." Yes, that will happen when your neighborhood rock star goes TMI on you.

[Photo Credits: Jessica Holmes Photography (stage, couch); Tricia Romano (crowd)]

• KCRW Sessions: Moby

After a full day of work and with my belly full of tacos, I headed back to Culver City (yes, again!) to the Denizen Design Gallery to drink some absinthe, look at art by Terrell Moore and listen to beats by Jason Eldredge. It's the kind of effortlessly cool thing that Flavorpill usually touts in their weekly letters.

The artist: Terrell Moore

The DJ: Jason Eldredge

I arrived just as someone was sparking a doobie. The smell wafted through the gallery, and no one seemed to notice or care. A beautiful dog, a weimaraner, wandered around and deigned to let you touch it.

One of Moore's claims to fame was that his work— cool subtle minimalist pale paintings—were featured in scenes in Iron Man.

There were a few interesting pieces — bright and colorful, candy-like that were appealing if only I had several hundred or five thousand dollars to blow.

On a table there was a collection of hats. Trucker hats, to be specific. Now, there's one thing I hope doesn't come back. Still, this fashion no-no didn't stop people from taking the some of the hats and walking around. Managing Editor of Flavorpill LA Shana Nys Dambrot yelled at one person walking by, half-jokingly, "Those are a $100, did you buy it?"

However, the main draw, as was readily apparent by the soused state of the revelers still clinging to drinks during the last hour of the party, was the Absinthe. The much-maligned liquor has been banned in this country for most of the last century; it garnered a reputation during the run up to Prohibition as being much more dangerous and psychoactive than regular old alcohol, and it was found that Absinthe made with wormwood could be deadly. This new shiny Absinthe is sort of like Absinthe-light; so in other words, lacking much of the psychoactive properties, but keeping the disgusting medicinal look and tastes. (Yum, green!) Also: it's not as fun, as you don't do that cool light-the-sugar-with-a-spoon-thing you do with straight up Absinthe.

I tried a shot, made it a third of the way; gave the Flavorpill "Orange Fresh" a try, which wasn't orange or fresh, and couldn't stomach that, either. But this was not the case of my companions. Whatever the Absinthe is made of, it seemed to be working.

Any way, that wasn't the highlight of my evening. About halfway through, I met this guy, Brandon Maxwell, who was very nice and chatty.

Then, I started to wonder if maybe I was actually high.

He is working on a short instructional film about men having multiple orgasms. He proceeded to explain that men are actually very repressed when it comes to talking and thinking about their sexuality, and are stumped when it comes to achieving the multiple big O. Did I mention that this film has cartoon illustration? Oh, and it's called, The Multiple Maxwell Climax. He has a blog, called "Master Your Johnson," and a website, climaxwell.com.

At the end of the night, Shana whips out her camera and Brandon asks if we can pose together. He bends down and says, just before she snaps the picture: "Pretend like we're dating."

Exit stage left.

And scene!