Moby has a rare gift — he's incapable of sucking at anything. Whether he's creating pulse-pounding beats or lulling melodies, the man has skills. He makes music because he feels something and wants the person putting on their headphones to feel it, too. With Wait For Me, his ninth studio album, Moby is experimenting again to mostly great effect. He's commented that he set out to make "a really emotional, beautiful record" and as far as I can tell, he's succeeded. The album is one big instrumental cloud of ethereal Where-Am-I-ness, like how it must feel trying to sprint across the Moon.