Moby's 10th studio album is released alongside a £25 book of his own photos, in effect making the songs a soundtrack to the book. Music and pictures alike aim to capture the disjointedness of life on tour, which for Moby means snapshots of airport corridors and 71 minutes of lonely-as-a-cloud electro-wafting. Bearing in mind that music about touring is of more interest to the artist than to listeners, it's still easy to appreciate swathes of Destroyed. The best of it – an austere symphony called Stella Maris, the Chemical Brothers-meet-John Barry grandeur of After – does convey some of the rootlessness of constant travelling. Other segments of the record are given over to morose chill-out, conjuring the sleepless nights that reportedly inspired insomniac Moby to write the music. Elsewhere, there's a return to the cuddly Play era, with Lie Down in Darkness's mix of forceful female vocal and moping synth underlay. Even without the photos, Destroyed has something to say, just.
Moby: Destroyed – review
Caroline Sullivan writes about rock and pop for the Guardian