The musician, 54, took to Instagram on Tuesday to show off his bold ink: the words “animal” and “rights” written in all caps down each of his arms.
“As November is my 32 year vegan anniversary I thought i’d get a tattoo (well, technically 12 tattoos) to celebrate,” Moby captioned the snap. “I’m a vegan animal rights activist for many reasons, but ultimately because I believe at the core of my being that every animal has the right to live their own life, according to their own will.”
The South Side singer hashtagged his post “#veganforlife” and “#animal rights” for good measure, crediting Kat von D’s shop High Voltage Tattoo for his new look.
Moby’s enormous arm tats join the “vegan for life” neck ink he got in September (which was also created by Von D) – and while they might not be to everyone’s liking, PETA clearly approves.
“Animals are so lucky to have you making a difference daily,” the organisation commented on the star’s post.
HOW MOBY HIT ROCK BOTTOM
In his recently released memoir Then It All Fell Apart , Moby shares a celebrity-filled chronicle of the debauchery and desperation that led to his sobriety over the past decade.
His 1999 album, Play, released a decade into his career, was an unexpected blockbuster, hitting No. 1 throughout Europe and selling more than two million copies in the United States as songs such as Porcelain and Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? inundated commercials and films.
While Moby scaled the A-list — David Bowie became a neighbour and friend — his nights were increasingly fuelled by 10, 15 drinks or more, plus whatever drugs people had available.
Between celebrities, booze and drugs, bizarre behaviour became the norm.
After drinking excessively every night for years, Moby told a girlfriend in 2002 that he’d stay sober for a month. But 12 days in, during an off-night on his tour in Dallas, he went to see Motley Crue drummer Tommy Lee do a solo show.
Backstage after the show, he met Dimebag Darrell and Vinnie Paul from Pantera, one of the hardest-partying, hardest-drinking bands in rock, along with “a bunch of their Hells Angels friends”.
Soon, Moby writes, “a 6-foot-8 Hells Angel with a red beard opened a bottle of Crown Royal and pushed it into my hands”.
Moby gulped from the bottle, handed it back to the biker and said, “I guess I’m not sober anymore.”
The biker looked “surprisingly concerned”.
“You’re sober?” he rumbled.
“For two weeks.”
“He laughed and passed the bottle back. ‘F**k! Drink up, my man!’”
As subsequent albums failed to excite, Moby’s behaviour was increasingly perceived as less charming than pathetic.
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By 2008, Moby was climbing on stages around New York, interrupting friends’ concerts to ask the audience for drugs.
October 18, 2008 was the last night that Moby drank — he played a fundraiser for Senator Kirsten Gillibrand with a new band.
Downing seven drinks during a short set, he embarrassed himself and Senator Gillibrand afterwards with a foul-mouthed rant against Republicans.
On the train ride home, he thought about his encroaching hangover and the 33 years he’d spent feeling as terrible as he did just then. Only now, it was worse.
“I’d been hung over thousands and thousands of times,” he writes.
“But now when I was hung over I felt like I poisoned my DNA. Hangovers these days felt wrong, and not lower-case ‘wrong’, like driving a few miles an hour over the speed limit, but upper-case ‘WRONG’, like feeding gasoline to a newborn.”
His eyes unable to focus on words to read, he listened to a demo of a song he recorded called Wait for Me.
As he listened, tears streaming down his face, he decided to change his life.
This article originally appeared on Page Six and was reproduced with permission