It might be hard to imagine Moby as anything other than an uber-famous artist, musician, and DJ. But once upon a time he lived in a disused factory in Connecticut, paying the guards $50 a month to look the other way. In the big scheme of things, that wasn’t so long ago — 1989.
That’s basically where Moby’s recently published book, Poreclain, starts. It then moves location to New York in the early 1990s, a time and place with which I am well acquainted. But that’s not why this book caught my eye. Read more here.
