As boring as it is to write about (or read about -- or, god forbid, listen to) music this flaccid, ever since Moby scored a multi-platinum hit with his 1999 album "Play," and became so maddeningly ubiquitous, his new work demands to be commented on. But I just listened to "Play" again, for the first time in years, and here's the thing: It sucks. It's simplistic, insipid music that sounds like it was designed for commercials -- which, it turns out, it was. But his nifty blues sampling idea was so good, and the samples themselves (especially the one of Vera Hall) so astounding that the actual quality of the music got glossed over in the New Yorker-endorsed hubbub. Here's one nice thing to say about "Play": It's better than anything he's done since. "Hotel," released last week, marks a new low. The most notable thing about this album is the cross-promotional scheme that's been worked out with W Hotels (hey, at least he wears his commercial whoring on his sleeve). The nicest thing I can say about "Hotel" is that I'm passingly fond of the two-minute-long instrumental "Hotel Intro." I couldn't make it through the rest of the record. Can he get worse? I eagerly await 2007's "Supermarket."