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Kerry and Moby together at last
BY CAMILLE DODERO
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A week ago on Wednesday, Moby came to Boston’s Park Plaza Hotel for the money shot. It was the evening before his irrevocably besmirched September 11 birthday, and the electronic-music celeb ostensibly made the appearance to draw younger voters to his presidential candidate of choice, Senator John Kerry. But Moby was really here to stand on stage with Kerry, gripping his wrist (strangely, not his hand) in front of an American flag. The photogenic union lasted only a minute, but cameramen made sure it defined the event. Which is fine, because everything else kind of sucked. Moby certainly wasn’t there for the music. Since the skinny knob-twiddler makes tracks alone in his studio, tours with a 10-piece band, claims he can’t sing, and professes to be a "piss-poor" vinyl spinner, his performance consisted of playing electric guitar behind two musician friends, covering tunes like Guns n’ Roses’ "Sweet Child o’ Mine" and the Cars’ "My Best Friend’s Girl," and belting out the vocals for Aerosmith’s "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)." As Moby himself admitted, they sounded much like a wedding band — best appreciated by drunken fools. He apologized "if I seem like a fraud." And since there were few drunken fools in the house, Moby must’ve felt like he was cheating the audience, who’d paid $75 to $100 each to hear him. Perhaps to give people their money’s worth, he chattered between songs, spitting at the "fuckin’ assholes" who pummeled him at the Paradise last time he was in town and wishing them "painful deaths locked in cages with rabid ferrets." When he said that, people giggled nervously. The name of the fundraiser was "John Kerry Unplugged," suggesting that the stilted senator might earnestly strum an acoustic six-string, or maybe serenade his supporters about the finer points of universal health care, deficit spending, and the perfidy of Bush’s oil buddies. And that would’ve been funny. Great, even — at least it could’ve boosted his cred with old women and hipsters. But instead, Kerry clumsily grabbed an electric guitar beside Boston band Popgun Seven, strummed it like an embarrassed kid, and grinned as the band roared through Bruce Springsteen’s "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out." And that was it. This, of course, was yet another attempt to cast Kerry in a carefully scripted role that would have him saunter onto another prefabricated set and poke his head in for a quick cameo. He’s already given speeches beside aircraft carriers, read books to children, and ridden a motorcycle in the Harley-Davidson 100th Anniversary Parade. Why not pull out an instrument? Yes, campaigning is all about appearances, and politicians are merely performers. But never has this been more clear than now, when somebody like John Kerry — a man who was once a real action hero and an actual politician — tries to reinvent himself as an actor. And does it so very awkwardly. But Kerry won’t own up to this posturing. He’s out there bemoaning Bush’s similar aircraft-carrier photo op last May. "Being flown to a carrier, in a borrowed flight suit, and saying the words ‘mission accomplished’ does not end a war," Kerry said earlier this month at Faneuil Hall. "The swagger of a president saying ‘Bring ’em on’ does not make America safer nor make our troops in the field safer, and it will never bring peace." Which is true. But what about that picture on Kerry’s Web site two weeks ago of him on a motorcycle? Even at "John Kerry Unplugged," he felt the need to remind people of his solemnity. "Sometimes people say, ‘John Kerry, you’re too serious about things,’" he said. He looked very serious. "Well, I’ve got news for you. The survival of the planet is serious. Global warming is serious. Killing people and how we go to war is serious business." A few minutes later, he hopped on stage, strapped on that electric guitar, and tried to play.
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