Heavyweight - #2 Gregor

Episode Date: September 24, 2016

20 years ago, Gregor lent some CDs to a musician friend. The CDs helped make him a famous rockstar. Now, Gregor would like some recognition. But mostly, he wants his CDs back. Credits Heavyweight is hosted and produced by Jonathan Goldstein, along with Wendy Dorr, Chris Neary, and Kalila Holt.  Editing by Alex Blumberg & Peter Clowney.  Special thanks to Emily Condon, Jackie Cohen, Paul Tough, Stevie Lane, Michelle Harris, Dimitri Erlich, Sean Cole and Jorge Just.  The show was mixed by Haley Shaw.  Music for this episode by Christine Fellows, with additional music by Talk-star, The Eastern Watershed Klezmer Quartet, Hew Time, Michael Smith, Farnell Newton, and Haley Shaw, who also did our ad music. Our theme song is by The Weakerthans courtesy of Epitaph Records. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Yeah. This week's show kind of deals with music and it got me thinking. I have a confession to make. You know how sometimes you have dinner parties, and they're great? I wanted to say sometimes. How you sometimes play music? Yeah. Sometimes I'm a little hesitant to come over for dinner. You're always hesitant to come over for dinner. It's not...

Including Mary Clode's 45th birthday. Do you remember that? I do. You know that Bambaleo song? I can't find my Gypsy Kings CD. Because your husband hid it. It's killing me. It's killing everybody. The reason sometimes I have some difficulty with my digestion at these dinner parties is it's the Bambaleo song.

It's the Gypsy Kings. Oh, this is great. You know what Bambaleo Bambalea translates as? What? Wobble, wobble. All right, we'll speak to you later. No, no, but wait, one thing before we go, okay? I'm going to say bambaleo, and then you say bambalea, okay? I'm not doing it.

I'm not doing bambalea. Bambaleo. Bambalea. Bye-bye. From Gimlet Media, I'm Jonathan Goldstein, and this is Heavyweight. Today's episode, Gregor. This guy's going to ram you from behind because you're going 11 miles an hour. Do you want me to make a left?

You usually don't do it from the right lane, but okay, let's not get killed. Do you have a driver's license? This is Gregor and me on our way to lunch. And what you're hearing is typical. When I'm driving, Gregor comments on my speed. When I eat, he comments on my table manners. And when I eat yogurt, he comments on the way I lick the inside lid, calling it both lecherous and unmanly.

Some might say that Gregor is overly critical, possibly even prickly. But I would not. I love Gregor for many reasons. His loyalty, his generosity, his being the kind of person who will pick you up at the airport at four in the morning without even complaining. But it's perhaps his courage to say the things that we're all not exactly thinking, but maybe thinking about thinking, that is most thrilling. And so, when he showed up at my office mocking himself instead of me and speaking in biblical parables, I was concerned. Was it the Pharaoh in the Joseph story who said the seven lean years and seven fat years?

Yeah. I had this insight today that the fat years are about to end. Would these have been the fat years? That's what I realized. Literally this morning, I woke up and I was like, wait, those were the fat years. You know, in every conceivable way, financially, stability, prestige, all the job stuff and creative accomplishment stuff, I just feel like it's like going up in smoke, and I'm watching it go up in smoke.

Gregor is 48 years old, and by profession, he makes marketing videos for a cleaning product, usually found in the bathroom. I can't tell you the name of this product for fear Gregor will lose his job. In other words, he's not the film auteur he dreamt of being back in his college days, underlining back issues of Cahiers de Cinema. On top of that, he says that over the past few years,

he's seen his career slowly suck downward. Not unlike, oh, I don't know, the spiraling waters of a sink, unclogged by a chemical drain opener, designed to flush pipes and attack clogs at their worst? What's that children's game where everyone goes around the chairs? Musical chairs. Musical chairs. And everyone sits down.

And you're like, oh, that friend of mine became a CEO. These four friends are like EVP, SVP, senior whatever at their things. That friend of mine wound up sitting in the president of Estonia's chair. And then you're like, the music stops, and you're left standing. I've heard him reel off this list before, and Gregor fully admits it. The success of anyone he knows, no matter how thin his connection to them, feels like a reflection of his own shortcomings, including the ascension of his elementary school's librarian son,

who is now the president of Estonia. The point of the story is, where's my presidency of my Estonia? My circumstance was always like, oh, things are about to break through, about to change. And now, like, you could say, well, this is just a setback. It's, you know, whatever, soon your ship's going to come in. But it's just not, you know. I mean, that's just the simple truth, the uncomfortable truth. Of all Gregor's stories about the success of his acquaintances and friends,

there's one story that he returns to most. And not only is it the greatest success story of them all, it's the one that touched his life the most intimately. The story all begins about 20 years ago in Manhattan, when Gregor was living in a small apartment in Chinatown with his older brother, Dimitri. One night, they had a friend of theirs over for dinner, a techno musician friend. He was really poor at the time. He was living in like, I think in like a basement in a warehouse or something for $40 a month. And he was an articulate, smart guy, still an articulate,

smart guy, but he was sort of an unlikely rock star in that his hair had mostly fallen out even when we were still in our twenties. But I watched his ascent and he played to bigger and bigger crowds doing this techno kind of stuff. And then eventually he got a record contract, and I at the time got a hold of a very obscure set of CDs, which were Field Hollers. Oh, Lord, in trouble so hard. I thought it was really interesting stuff. I loaned him this box set of CDs.

Oh, Lord, in trouble so hard. He then sampled it very heavily. Don't nobody know my trouble for God. He then sampled it very heavily. And created a record which got him very rich and very famous. This guy you're speaking of? This guy's Moby. Moby. Bald-headed, bespectacled, castle-dwelling,

multi-million record-selling Moby. But back then, he was just Gregor's pal who spent weekends at Gregor's family's place and attended family birthday parties, too. In bars and during long car rides, Gregor and Moby had long, earnest conversations about God and the things they believed. They were living their 20s together.

And those CDs Gregor lent Moby? The box set, Sounds of the South, was recorded by the ethnomusicologist Alan Lomax. Beginning in the 1930s, Lomax and his father John made thousands of field recordings, mostly in the American South. These recordings are among the most important in American music, preserving dozens of African American songs from the early years of the 20th century. from the early years of the 20th century. Another hit on Moby's album is called Honey. It makes use of the song Sometimes, sung by Bessie Smith Jones.

Jones was taught these songs by her grandfather, a former slave born in Africa. This is Moby's version. So, is everybody feeling all right? Yeah! Africa. This is Moby's version. I've here elected to play for you the live version of the song, with all of its foot stomping and audience cheering. It's how I imagine Gregor hears it, echoing in his head during those sleepless nights when his kishkas are slowly being corroded by battery acid. When I discovered this CD set, I was like an evangelist. I was like, this is amazing, you've got to check this out. He was over the house, and I was like, you've got to take this home, this is amazing stuff.

This is the best CD I've heard in I don't know how long. I've been listening to it at non-stop rotation, I love this CD. So it wasn't just laying in a pile and he happened to put it in his bag and walk out the door. I said, I sold him on it. Moby makes use of several Lomax recordings on his album Play, which went multi-platinum. Play eventually became one of the most commercially licensed albums ever recorded at the time the songs were used to promote everything from luxury cars to credit cards and before play according to rolling stone magazine moby was quote bumbling around new york as a has-been

and then was there a an intermediary step before that and then hearing it on the cd where he said hey by the way thanks no i said this is amazing thing next thing i then hearing it on the CD where he said, hey, by the way, thanks? No. I said, this is an amazing thing. The next thing I heard, it's on the radio. And I said, hey, can I get that box set back? And then years of not being friends. And according to Gregor, that was all he wanted, to get his CDs back. He was looking for neither riches nor credit, just the CDs, which he claims were only a loan. And so this is how it went. He began leaving Moby voice messages, by Gregor's count about a dozen, that all went unanswered. Then, in a final act of desperation, Gregor penned a song called Moby Give Me Back My CDs, which he sang into Moby's answering machine with accompanying karaoke music

to the tune of Bryan Adams' Heaven. After much cajoling, Gregor dug up his lyrics, which I will now perform for you. Moby give me back my CDs The recordings from the field The Alan Lomax box set CDs I think there were seven from the field. The Alan Lomax box set CDs. I think there were seven.

Those discs are all that I need. The ones I gave you from my house. I think you'll be sure to see. There were seven. And that message, Gregor says, was met with over a decade of silence. Did he ever explain? Like, did he just ever come out and tell you honestly what became of those CDs?

No. I think he was busy, like, playing, like, you know, a concert to 90,000 people in Reykjavik and drinking champagne out of a prostitute's shoe. Couldn't be bothered. Obviously, I put an exaggerated value on the CD, so I'm sure he could have sampled anything, and he had a plenty big career before that and after that. I mean, I'm not insane, but it was more that displaced feeling of, like,

I had this thing go off and bloom without me. I'll tell you an interesting detail on that. Yeah. Whenever Moby music comes on, I can't listen to it. But do you think if you get it back, you won't feel that way? I feel like I could work it through like therapy where I could then listen to the music again. You know, there's a sense of, what about my, you know, that sound.

Where's my gold album? Yeah. Gregor has theories about why nothing ever happened for him, and they revolve around an aspect of his personality, an aspect he refers to as a lack of affability. Like a lot of times, I'll say something completely earnestly, like, past the water, and they're like, are you being sarcastic?

Like, that happens to me all the time. How could you ask for the water sarcastically like, are you being sarcastic? That happens to me all the time. How could you ask for the water sarcastically? I come across as being sarcastic when I'm not. So it's almost like a handicap. It's a huge handicap. I think it's fundamentally, as I understand my own life, that is my cross to bear.

That's what's wrecked my life. I think you would even, like you told me that story about where you were in the conference room at work. They're like complimenting you on your new glasses or something and saying, hey, what does your wife think of those glasses? And you were like, how the fuck do I know? Why don't you ask my wife to find out? Do you remember? Yeah, I remember.

I mean, so. They said like, what does your wife think of that? I was like, how do I know? Ask my wife. Recently, Gregor and Moby have found themselves back in touch, though in the most tangential, impersonal way possible, through group emails and texts. Gregor's older brother, Dimitri,

remained friends with Moby over the years, and Dimitri recently had a baby. So he loops in Moby, Gregor, and one other old friend on updates. This has evolved into a small group of friends exchanging witticisms and fun facts, like, did you know that the fatty flesh around the elbow is called a weenus? So while the new group email friendship isn't the same as the old close one, it's still an open door.

And so I couldn't help asking the question. Now that that door has swung open again, do you see this as an opportunity to ask for those CDs once again? I was thinking about it. Were you? Just because it's kind of a little symbolic. Of what?

I don't even have a CD player anymore. Right. But I was just thinking, for talismanic purposes, it would be interesting to have them back. Say more about that. I think that it might soothe me. Do you really think it would? I'll actually give you the clarity, which just came to me now. Okay.

It's not instead of the money and the fame and all that stuff. What it is, is tangible evidence. You understand? You did this. You exist. You did it. You pulled it off. You want to be able to say, see these CDs on the shelf? That's the ones that I gave to mommy. Because for me, this would just be a version of proof. Proof.

Wanting the CDs you lent someone decades ago and expecting them back is, of course, insanity. But insanities repeated often enough, especially between friends, can begin to feel pacifying. Lulling, even. So, excuse me, in a way, you just want your due. Yeah. Do you think you can articulate that in a way that would make it understandable to him, do you think? I'm pretty confident I can't, because he's still pretty sensitive. Okay, pretty sensitive.

Pretty sensitive like the time Moby seemed to bristle when Gregor emailed him about something totally innocuous, a condolence for the death of Moby's friend, David Bowie. You know, I said some witty thing about David Bowie dying, and he wrote, like, texted back, like, the picture of him and David Bowie on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. Let's back up for a moment. What was the witty thing you said about David Bowie's death? You know, like, goodnight

funny man. What does that even mean? That's usually what I say when people die. If this is a sampling of the hot takes Gregor has in store, I fear that this newly opened door between Moby and Gregor might not remain open forever.

I also knew that if he has any hope of ever getting back those CDs, he'll need a middleman. Or interlocutor. Or interlocutor. So perhaps against my better judgment, I allow myself to be swept up by the moment.

I just don't know if this is going to lead to anything but heartbreak, but why don't we go after the CDs? Alright. And with that ringing call to arms, my path was set, and the mission begun. Say I'm Moby, like how would you

ask? Hey Moby, can I have back those CDs? I've never understood any approach other than the direct approach, so that's what I would do. After the break, the Hollywood Hills, a surprise encounter with RuPaul, and maybe Moby. Maybe. The airline tickets were purchased, the hotel was booked,

but a couple days before we were set to leave for L.A., I got nervous. If Gregor already was in a bad place, could my meddling possibly make things worse? Hello? Hey, Annika? Yes, Jonathan. I decide to reach out to the person who knows Gregor best. Can you go out with Daddy, okay? His wife, Annika.

So, do you know about this little project that your husband and I are undertaking? So I think the strategy to ambush Moby and try and get him to give back the CDs that he lent Gregor 30 years ago, or however long it was ago. Is that true? You make it sound like such a classy operation. Yeah. Has Gregor brought this issue up to you before, this whole Alan Lomax CD issue? So I met him on November 11, 2000. Yeah.

And it came up pretty early in our relationship. So he, yeah. Like first date conversation? It was definitely early on. It's very hard for him to let stuff go. And like even like early on in our relationship, we went to Spain together. And we bought a bottle of olive oil in some town or something and we left it by accident in the rental car

and it still bothers him. Do you know, I think I actually know that olive oil story. Oh, yeah, yeah. There is something that is in his character that is very much like the Larry David character where it's like obsessing about a very small point. But, you know, he's a very, he's like a very sensitive person. So it's just part of who he is and part of his wonderful package.

Does this undertaking have your blessing or do you think it's foolhardy? I don't, I, sometimes I worry about Gregor's feelings because he is very hurt very easily, and I don't know if Moby is really that sensitive to his feelings. Hi. Johnny. Gregor flew in from San Francisco, and I was there to greet him at the Bob Hope International Airport in Burbank. So this is the dream factory I've heard about.

It's beautiful here. Even the underground parking lots smell like suntan lotion. We have four hours before our appointment with Moby, so we set off in our economy-sized Kia Rio or similar to experience everything L.A. has to offer. Are you excited? Uh, yeah. You don't sound excited. No, I'm full of anxiety, and let me tell you,

I feel an increasing sense of dread about the futility of this undertaking. You're going to get those CDs back, my friend. Okay, whatever you say. In a plastic bag, which he'll supply. You're going to negotiate this like my agent? At which time of my client's choosing, the one plastic bag, recycled, acceptable, plus one coupon good for any flavor from Baskin Robbins

ice cream or any substitute there too. With just three hours and 59 minutes to go, things were off to a rollicking start. It's like not moving. There's always traffic in Los Angeles. But seriously, look at the traffic. Are we going to make it to Mobeave? Yeah, we're going to be stuck in horrible traffic. We have until 2.

No, we have until 1. Oh really? We'll never make it. Oh look, there's the big Hollywood sign. Wow, what a sight, huh? It used to say Hollywoodland. Actually before that it was called Hollywoodlandville. Is that true? You used to say Hollywoodland. Actually, before that it was called Hollywoodlandville. Is that true?

No. Do you want Mexican food? Do you ever eat Mexican food? I love Mexican food. To make a U-turn? Yeah, go, go, go. This is like a four-lane U-ey. It's six, really. Go, go, go, go. Yes!

When you introduce someone before they were famous and you treat them like someone who's not famous, sometimes they don't like that. Sometimes they're used to the deference and the rock star treatment from everyone. Can you try to treat them with a little more deference? That's what I'm going to try to, but the mask always slips. Insofar as me coming here with you,

how do you feel about me as an interlocutor? I'm actually full of dread mostly because of that. What is that supposed to mean? Because I recognize that I need an interlocutor. I did say that and I do believe it. I think that you're going to be a lousy interlocutor. You think I'm going to embarrass you in front of your famous friends? Yes, yes, yes. That's what you're afraid of.

Yes. in front of your famous friends. Yes, yes, yes. That's what you're afraid of. Yes. No, but seriously, you think I'm gonna blow this? I just feel like you don't get the vibe of what it's like when you're in a guy's house and you're gonna be like,

"'Say, nice toilets, what are these, made of porcelain? "'Hey!' And I'm gonna be like, "'Johnny, please.' And he'll be like, "'No, I don't know what they're made of.' That's what I'm afraid of." This is to me the final irony of this whole thing, that you're concerned that I'm gonna be like, Johnny, please. And he'll be like, no, I don't know what they're made of. This is to me the final irony of this whole thing, that you're concerned that I'm gonna embarrass you.

I don't want you to trip me up in my game, my stride, my cadence. And what is gonna be a part of your game here? To try and relax and be myself, but I'm gonna be made self-conscious when you're like, do you validate parking here? I just need you to validate. God, this is so pretty.

What a pretty place to live. Yeah, well, you sell enough CDs, you can live in a place like this. Worried about our being tardy, I decided to run down the clock, doing laps around Moby's very pretty block. Little tiny houses. We keep going straight?

This is really pretty. Nice view of the mountains. This is his house right here. Where? Right here. Want to drive by it? This house right there at the corner? We were passing the gates of his home over and over

when a half hour before our appointed meeting... That's Moby right there. Is it? Yeah. Oh, Jesus. Moby emerges through the gates to get his newspaper. Excited about seeing an honest-to-goodness famous person, I instinctively slowed to a crawl

and pulled over beside him. Go say hi. No. No, come on. No, no, let him go. Keep going. He just turned around. He didn't see anything.

Yes, he did. He turned around and we made eye contact. I slid right up to him and he turned around and he seemed scared. That's exactly what I'm talking about. What did I do? Your creepy instincts kick in. Why is it creepy?

You don't slide up to people when they're going to get their paper. It's true. I really did slide up to him. Yeah, you did, like a creep. You going to go another pass through? What if he comes up for his milk? We walk off our nerves in a nearby park where Gregor dispenses life wisdom to a passing toddler.

Enjoy it, kid. It's the best it's going to be for the rest of your life. Who says things like that to a child? He's happy in love. His shirt said love. He's holding a little girl's hand. Outside Moby's door, we do some last minute strategizing. Am I supposed to be the good cop or the bad cop? I can't remember.

Well, I guess you were supposed to be the bad cop. No, I'm the bad cop. You're the good cop. I usually play the bad cop. So fine, you're the bad cop. It's 1257. It's not really 1 yet. I'll wait.

Oh, hello. Hi. I'm sorry, we're early. It's 1257. It's three minutes too early. Moby's personal assistant, a terrifyingly fit woman in jeans and t-shirt, leads us towards Moby's home. By rock star standards, it's pretty modest. Hello, hello.

Hi. Chairman Moe. It's been far too long. Should I take shoes off? Hi, I'm Jonathan. We're led into a sunken foyer where a couple of assistants are gathering equipment and making themselves scarce. Standing at the top of the stairs, looking not unlike a bald-headed gray hoodie Norma Desmond, is Moby. Gregor and he do not hug or even shake hands. They don't even wave.

It's been far too long, my friend. Where are you staying and why are you in LA? Gregor drops his bag and has a look-see. Beautiful location, your beautiful assistant, everything beautiful. He's even brought along a thoughtful gift, something to cater to Moby's strict veganism and clean, healthy lifestyle, fancy all-natural lemonades. Something disgusting with turmeric. Whoa.

Something awful with probiotic cayenne peppers. Something horrifying with turmeric. Whoa. Something awful with probiotic cayenne peppers. Something horrifying with lemons. To our parched dismay, Moby takes the beverages and places them in the fridge. Gregor and I are never to see those beverages again. As we settle in and I set up our recording gear, Gregor notices a pile of video equipment. Why do you have two C300s here? Remember that slippery mask Gregor mentioned? The one hiding his rough edges?

Ten seconds in, and it was already a slip-in. Why am I not involved? I produce films all the time. I can help you. To which Moby, rather than saying he's worked with David Lynch and David LaChapelle and is probably all set on that front, instead says... I mean, you live in San Francisco. Yeah, but I'm here all the time. He's worked with David Lynch and David LaChapelle and is probably all set on that front. Instead says, I mean, you live in San Francisco.

Yeah, but I'm here all the time. Not literally in your living room, in your kitchen. Although I could be more often. Gregor can't help treating Moby like a nephew making his first student film. That is, Gregor's treating Moby the way he treats me. And this, of course, is concerning. First of all, before we even get that far, how would you... At this point, Moby has mostly no idea why we're here. I made an appointment with his

assistant, but it was left vague. So Moby takes the direct approach. So what are you guys doing? Well, this is an excellent question. Let's begin at the beginning, around the time contemporaneous with your recent autobiography, the mid-90s, 2000s. After all of his braggadocio about how he was going to walk in there and demand a CD's back, Gregor's nervous, being uncharacteristically mealy-mouthed, unable to explain the basics of our mission. And so this conversation became down this kind of alleyway

of that facet of, like, I was kind of like, what is that? Moby had limited time, so at the risk of embarrassing Gregor in front of his famous friend, I decide to step in and explain. So can I tell my story of you coming to... Last time I saw Gregor, he came to visit me at work, and you were kind of in this mood where you were feeling like maybe those things that you were hopeful about achieving were not going to be happening.

While Gregor looks on skeptically, I try to explain to Moby Gregor's midlife malaise, how everyone was passing him by. Can you relate to the feeling of like, have you ever at different points in your life felt like, like surpassed by your friends or, you know what I mean? Oh yeah. Like there's always going to be someone doing so much better than you that if you spend the time to look at it, you're going to feel bad about yourself. Like my nemesis, well, according to him for a while, was Eminem. So if he was my nemesis, I was just being beaten publicly and badly because he was always more successful, always selling more records,

always more popular, always cooler. And so it depends on who I was comparing myself to over time like other people start selling more records getting better reviews you start selling fewer tickets and then as the 2000s progressed my career waned and other people's escalated you know like I would go to visit my record company and they'd have my picture behind the receptionist desk. And then one day I show up and it's Jack White's picture behind the receptionist desk. I'm like, well, what? Yeah. I mean, I think the only way to hear that, honestly, is in the split screen between totally head nodding, a hundred percent agree and totally like easy for you to say, cause you're looking down from the mountain. Looking up, you're like,

I'm going to fucking knock that guy off the mountain, because all I need is my million dollars, then I'll look down. But really the kick in the teeth of fame is that if you don't have it, you beat yourself up that you don't have it, and if you do have it, you're miserable and you kill yourself. Literally the most depressed I've ever been in my entire life was the height of my professional success. And I remember this one moment so clearly. I was at an MTV Awards in Barcelona. And there's this hotel

called the Arts Hotel in Barcelona. And it's so beautiful. And at the tippity top of the hotel, they have four three-bedroom apartments. And I was in one, P. Diddy was in one, John Bon Jovi was in one, and Madonna was in one. And so you'd take like one elevator to get to a certain floor, then another elevator to another floor, and then a security guard would wave you through up to our hallowed floor. And the first night I was there,

I invited some people over to like look at the view and drink, and I kept drinking by myself, and I got more and more despondent. I literally at the end of the evening before going to bed was walking around this beautiful insane apartment crying thinking about how I could get out the window to kill myself and the next day I won an MTV award so it's like professionally things couldn't have been better you know the day before I won an MTV award. So it's like professionally, things couldn't have been better. You know, the day before I'd played a huge concert, selling lots of records. The day after, won an award, played more huge concerts.

And I've never been more despondent. I appreciate your making up that story just to make me feel good. It's completely true. Because I remember walking around this hotel and these walls of glass only had these little bitty, like, foldy open windows at the bottom. And I was looking at that and I was like, fuck, if that window opened more, I would just jump out and die because I'm done. You think when you get to where you want to go, finally you'll be happy.

But then you get to where you want to go and you're just as miserable as you were. In fact, you're even more miserable because you no longer have anything to aspire to. And you feel this hopelessness because everything, like, what's left to aspire towards. It feels like Moby's trying to explain something to Gregor. Moby grew up poor, with a single mother, and lived on food stamps. When Moby was a kid, his dad died in a car crash.

And a few years ago, his mom passed away from lung cancer. He has no siblings, so essentially he's alone. I look at Gregor and I think of like, I know his family very well. And from my perspective, like, first of all, he has a family. I don't really, I have some aunts and uncles and cousins. You have some other siblings, I'm sure. And to me, that still makes me feel like, oh, he's figured out things that I don't understand. Of course I'm very successful in that I have a beautiful child and blah blah blah. Two of them actually. I won't say which one.

I have two children. One is beautiful. Anyway, you know the like, a man's wealth is measured in family. But it's not, you turn, every time these things come up you always make them into like, Well what I'm saying is, Something you hear at the end of south park right but what i'm saying is that that era when like it still seemed like life had potential to go a bunch of different ways now it seemed less so it's not even squandered potential it's just like you could have been somebody becomes like you didn't every year you lose a

little bit of potential you know like at this point like point, like I'm 50, and I'm like, oh, most of my life I thought at some point I could be a father. And I'm like, no, probably not. And I have one issue. I really have to pee. Go ahead. I can't pee. While Moby was conveniently indisposed,

I took the opportunity to reiterate our mission, getting back the CDs. As much as it behooves you, like, just try to keep it about the CDs. All right. I think we only have about 10 minutes here. Well, that's what I want to get to. Do you want me to wrestle him to the ground? No. Well, that's where I want to get to it.

Do you want me to wrestle him to the ground? No. You have something in particular you want me to say? Moby emerges from the bathroom, cutting our conversation short, and Gregor steps up to the plate and begins in the middle. I still listen to Sounds of the South on YouTube. They have the full set. And as far as that actual diss set, did you hang on to that or that's...

The CD, the box set of CDs? The actual stuff. Yeah, they're somewhere. Most of it's in storage in Queens. So we've got these like, this medium-sized storage locker that's just like packed to the rafters with stuff. Finally, it's my moment to be the interlocutor. I think Gregor sort of wanted those CDs back if only to put them on a mantle to feel like I was a part of something, like I mattered, I existed.

I mean, I view this more like I handed you the pen and then you wrote the great book with it. It's not that I had some role in... But, like the guy who introduced Andy Warhol to the can of Campbell's soup or whatever. To me, this is not like a legal deposition where it's like, who said it? I mean, it was fucking 25 years ago. As Gregor and I parry, it's almost like we forget that Moby's even there when suddenly he pipes up.

One thing, just to be super clear, from the album play, two of the most remarkably iconic songs on the record would never have been written or existed had I not been given those CDs. I didn't know who Alan Lomax was, and the box set called Sounds of the South, I didn't know it existed. And I certainly, like, it was an expensive box set. And there's no way I was going to walk into Tower Records and spend $65 or however much it was going to be on a box set I knew nothing about from an archivist I'd never heard of. So, like, those are 100% the result of me being given those CDs.

Wait, so we're saying you're not, Gregor's not getting the CDs back. Okay, here's a story. Friend of mine, her mother died in a very, very sad, tragic way. And she came to me and she started crying. And she said that at the funeral they played the song natural blues and everyone in the church was crying and it was one of the most powerful

emotional moments of her life that wouldn't have ever existed if you hadn't given me those cds so to me that's more priceless and precious than any sort of, like, objective, quantifiable metric. How does that make you feel? I mean, it makes me feel like thinking about, you know, getting a pair of bolt cutters and breaking into a steady storage in Queens is not what I'm going to do. That was my plan. And so Gregor doesn't get what he came for. But maybe not getting everything you want, in the grander scheme, isn't so bad.

One practical issue. So, I have two podcast interviews to do today. You guys are the first, and the second, you're in good company. It's with RuPaul. Nice. Crazy. I mean, if you wanted to, we could all just drive there. That'd be fun. We could do it in the car.

Like, if you guys want to get in the car with me, my girlfriend is coming here. She's going to go with me because she's an obsessive RuPaul fan. Oh, wow. Really? Moby, his girlfriend, Gregor, and I pile into Moby's Prius. Seen from the outside, Gregor seems happy to be a part of Moby's life again. He's even feeling comfortable enough to favor us with his famous John Travolta imitation.

I could drink tea. What do you think? I could drink tea. John Travolta imitation. I could drink tea. What do you think? I could drink tea. John Travolta, when she says, he says, why don't you have coffee with me sometime? She's like, in Manhattan, we don't drink coffee. We drink tea. And he's like, so what?

I could drink tea. And then, for whatever reason, Moby takes over my role of interlocutor and begins explaining Gregor's style to his girlfriend. takes over my role of interlocutor and begins explaining Gregor's style to his girlfriend. And Gregor is funny and at times, like would maybe be honest in a way that people might take offense to or at.

As Moby's learning firsthand, interlocuting for Gregor isn't so easy. Hi, I'm here for RuPaul's podcast. At the hotel, we're shown into a conference room where we're greeted by... RuPaul and his co-host, Michelle. As I trail behind Moby for the first time in my life, I feel a part of a bona fide Hollywood entourage. So we've been doing an interesting podcast

because Gregor and I have known each other for 27 years. Is that all? Yeah. That's all? We watch as RuPaul interviews Moby, and when Moby says interesting things like, my mom was born in San Diego. My mom was born in San Diego.

What? RuPaul responds with engaged interest. And when Moby offhandedly mentions a song, RuPaul and Michelle sing it. And as they do, I find myself thinking only one thing. Now this is how you run a podcast. When Moby and Gregor say their goodbyes, Moby tells him that he'll be coming to San Francisco soon,

and he'll be sure to give Gregor a call. And Gregor says he'd like that. But before parting, Gregor can't help giving it just one last nudge. I have one more question for you. Can you just tell me the name of the storage facility where this seat is? No. It's for a friend. They need to store something in Queens. No.

There was one place. I'm just thinking it's the same place. Gregor's comfortable enough to joke around about something that had once plagued him. And Moby's comfortable enough to uncomfortably laugh along with him. All around, it feels pretty nice. So how did you feel about how that went? I think it was cathartic. No, really. Seriously. With some time to kill before our flight, Gregor and I decide to hike up to the observatory. Do you feel like he screwed you out of your CDs yet again?

The honest truth is he did give me a good long song and dance about how we all learned a lesson, and I didn't get the thing that I set out to get. But in seriousness, I honestly feel, in a funny sort of way, I got what I came for. Which was what? You didn't get your CDs. You see, you're a petty person.

What you just saw, and apparently were deaf and couldn't hear, was a reconciliation with two guys after 25 years of slight estrangement. So you guys did get to be friends. Yeah, I think we just buried the hatchet. This CD thing is a symbol. I mean, who cares about the CD? But you were the one who cared about the CD.

Look, it's hard to come together and just hug it out. What you just witnessed was a version of hugging it out. Two men having a good cry. That's about the closest that I come. Well, then I think that was great. I think this was a success. I agree. Still would have been nice to get your CDs back, though.

Of course. I don't know if the rental car you got there had a CD player, but... It doesn't. There would have been no better ending to this day than to drive out of the parking lot cranking that CD. Yeah, but cars don't have... nobody has CD players anymore. And let me tell you something. If some Moby song comes on the radio right now, I'd let it play. I'd even sing along.

Do you want me to find it on my phone and play it? That's okay. You sure? Because I actually downloaded it. Three days later, and much to his surprise, Gregor received an email from Moby. This might sound odd, the email read, but I realized I never said a true, heartfelt thank you for giving me those CDs.

So in all sincerity, thank you. I'm sorry it's taken so long to say thank you. Gregor said he was happier that the thank you came three days later. This way, he knew it wasn't just out of politeness, that it must have been, quote, boring a hole through his head for days. After receiving Moby's thank you, Gregor immediately wrote back a thank you of his own, in the form of a joke, which, if he didn't know Gregor,

could also be taken as an insult. But Moby did know Gregor. And so for Gregor, it was back to being a normal friendship. សូវាប់ពីបានប់ពីបានប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពីប់ពី now that the furniture's returning to its goodwill home now that the last month's rent is scheming with the damage deposit Take this moment to decide If we meant it, if we tried Or felt around for far too much

From things that accidentally touch Heavyweight is hosted and produced by me, Jonathan Goldstein, along with Wendy Dorr, Chris Neary, and Kalila Holt. Editing by Alex Bloomberg and Peter Clowney. Special thanks to Emily Condon, Paul Tuff, Stevie Lane, Michelle Harris, Dimitri Ehrlich, Sean Cole, and Jorge Just. And a very special thank you to my dear friend Jackie Cohen

the show was mixed by Haley Shaw music for this episode by Christine Fellows with additional music by Talkstar the Eastern Watershed Klezmer Quartet

and Haley Shaw who also did our ad music our theme music is by The Weaker Thans courtesy of Epitaph Records follow us on Twitter

at Heavyweight or email us at heavyweight at gimletmedia.com We'll have a new episode next week. I should go back and ring his doorbell now and ask for that lemonade back. It was kind of expensive.

It doesn't seem like you're going to drink it. Gotta feel thirsty. And you know what? I don't want to show up 20 years from now asking for those lemonades, because they're gonna tell me it's in a storage locker in Queens. Yeah, what'd you do with that? Seriously, like when someone brings you beverages,

like you put them out on the table, maybe bring out a glass for a person or a straw. What kind of a momster is he?