"Mistake" is the sole track that finds Moby himself behind the microphone, and the guitar lines underneath gently build and channel his rock roots. "Scream Pilots" balances a persistent drum track against more ethereal strings and piano, and these two tracks become the dynamic peak for the album.
Both "JLTF" and the title track "Wait For Me" feature breathy female vocals sitting atop more full sounding arrangements that drift and flow underneath. It's a mood that moves in and out of the entire record, becoming more an emotional leitmotif as opposed to a strictly musical one. It's hypnotic even, and before you know it the gentle close of "Isolate" has come and gone, and you're left with the instinctive reach for the repeat button.
The overall tone of the record is sparse. It's not overproduced, but neither is it emotionally manipulative. It feels understated and honest, a meditation on simpler times before things became overproduced and manipulative as a matter of course. From Moby's simple hand-drawn artwork to his selection of lesser-known vocalists (who are still quite good), everything seems to be trying to focus you back on getting lost inside a single, uncluttered melody instead of the decoration and "wow" around it.
After the disappointing and forced sounding Last Night, listening to Wait For Me feels like a relaxing breath of fresh air. It's not that Moby can't do dance music; his history loudly proclaims otherwise. But his output has always varied and moved between genres from album to album, in cycles as the mood seems to strike. But unlike the last release, this one definitely feels like the product of an inspired and honest artistic cycle. Music for music's sake, and not the release schedule. It probably won't find the exaggerated radio and commercial spins of some of his other work, but it's a rewarding and rich album for those who have always preferred "deep cuts" to singles.
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