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MODE SQUAD
[Creem,
April 1993.
Words: Jeremy Helligar. Pictures: Anton Corbijn.]
"
But we just
gradually evolved, and I can honestly say I believe every one of our albums has
gotten better. I think fans see an evolution there and tend to stick with us
because they realize we are always trying to break new ground.
"
Summary:
Don't let the uninspired, cliche-ridden opening
fool you. What follows is a thorough interview full of intelligent questions
examining the band from every conceivable angle: songwriting, studio, touring,
fanbase, personal lives, business. The interviewer keeps his questioning
unobtrusive and allows the band to come out with detailed answers, which is the
real strength of this piece. [4068 words]
Many thanks to Doreen in Germany, a.k.a. Goregirl, for kindly supplying the scans of this article.
View pages: cover page 1 page 2 page 3 page 4 page 5 page 6
Try
also: Songs
Of Faith And Devotion EPK / Interview CD
Of synth-pop’s videogenic pioneers, only Depeche Mode’s microchip melodies spawned long-lived commercial hurrah. Perhaps DM has its own personal Jesus. After all, none of its trail-blazing early-‘80s British peers have had it so good. The Human League remains exiled from the charts. Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark floundered after the Pretty in Pink sound-track and eventually split. Soft Cell’s fifteen minutes of fame only lasted about three. Depeche Mode, however, continued to thrive long after the electronic bleeps of Kajagoogoo, A Flock of Seagulls, and Heaven 17 had long faded into dated echoes.
Now the foursome’s eighth studio album, Songs of Faith And Devotion, finds them breathing some life into cold, synthetic grooves, remodelling an outdated sound to fit into pop’s chameleon landscape.
Synth-pop, grunge and arena rock mingle on the rumbling lead single, “I Feel You”. Live gospel singers embellish the cathedral-rock of “Get Right With Me”, while “One Caress” presents a 28-piece orchestra and a nearly human vocal from group member Martin Gore. The album, though not a completely skewed Depeche Mode excursion, doesn’t sink in until one lives with it a while.
David Gahan, who routinely functions as the band’s mouthpiece, considers it to be a “solid-sounding album”, Depeche Mode’s finest work. At home on a stormy L.A. eve, he elaborates a bit over the phone: “Each song has its own special atmosphere, and you’re kind of taken through this journey.” Songs of Faith and Devotion is a reaction to more hardcore electronic trends, he says, “a very song-based album”.
The seeds which sprouted Depeche Mode were planted in 1980 in Basildon, England. Not yet out of their teens, the original foursome – Gahan, Gore, Andrew Fletcher, and songwriter Vince Clarke – formed a “rhythm machine” with guitar, bass, and one synthesizer.
How could the critics not hate them? Some balked at the band’s artificial heart, others blasted Depeche Mode concerts, where various sounds materialized without noticeable human effort. Rolling Stone described their 1981 debut, Speak and Spell, as “robot-pop product”. The album still scaled the U.K. album chart and spawned three hit singles, including the ever-popular “Just Can’t Get Enough”. Nevermind the critics.
Clarke, then a road-shy studio addict, stepped aside after Speak and Spell to for Yazoo with Alison Moyet (and later Erasure with Andy Bell). Gore replaced him as the band’s primary songwriter. For A Broken Frame, the follow-up which Gore calls “a real mish-mash”, he dug up songs he had written at 16. “I think it was definitely a blessing in disguise for me, but I don’t particularly rate A Broken Frame as a great album”, the seasoned writer now says. “It took me awhile to actually find a footing. I pretty much like all of our albums from (1986’s) Black Celebration onwards.”
Alan Wilder – attracted by the Melody Maker ad: “Name Band. Synthesizer. Must be under 21” – joined as Depeche Mode’s musical architect in 1982, despite being an advanced 22 years old. Says Wilder, with typical candour, of earliest Depeche Mode: “I wasn’t magically attracted to the music. I was in such a bad financial state that I would have taken any job that came along.”
Because the band is blessed not only with striking songs but also a charismatic visual image possessed of the assured swagger and strut of a young Mick Jagger, Depeche Mode’s electronic pulse ticks on 11 years later. Among early synth-pop’s effeminate poster boys, former window design student Gahan emerged as the movement’s closest thing to a sex god, cast as leading man in the wet dreams of pubescent girls – and maybe a few boys. At the close of a 1990 concert at New York’s Radio City Music Hall, an audience member even presented Gahan with a sign that read “Dave Is Sex”. Today, Gahan remembers the incident as “a buzz”.
And who can overlook Gore, Gahan’s androgynous, S&M-clad antithesis? Gore was dressing the part of master/servant long before Madonna bought her first set of whips and chains. Gore explains the persona as an obvious extension of his personality and a reaction against standard machismo rock’n’roll. “I’ve always been aware of the monotony of stage shows in general and just try in a small way to inject some, for want of a better word, glamour,” he says. “I’ve always really liked this non-macho look. The rest of the band put up with quite a lot in the past, (but) they never said to me, ‘I don’t think you should wear that.’ They sort of went along with what I was trying to do.” [1]
A second possible reason for Depeche Mode’s continued good fortune is the band’s ass-kicking live reputation. Ten years ago MTV plotted the direction of popular music. Nothing back then sold a band to pop’s trendy masses like a splashy video. Think of any early Duran Duran song titles (“Hungry Like The Wolf” or, say, “Girls on Film”) and the video probably comes to mind before the melody. But these are the Lollapalooza days. Every week MTV presents a new face to watch. Who can keep up? Upstart bands like Pearl Jam and Spin Doctors develop their loyal, dependable fan base on the road. And the 1989 tour film 101, a document of 101 concerts, established Depeche Mode as true road warriors.
Depeche Mode has also survived merely by surviving. During the early ‘80s, the band’s elaborately coiffed synth-pop kin were a dime a dozen. But today, Depeche Mode is a member of a rare species. Techno, industrial and neo-disco outfits such as Nine Inch Nails, Jesus Jones, and Moby are at the forefront of a computer-driven pop obsessed with beats per minute. Suddenly the members of Depeche Mode are elder statesmen, an anomaly in the biz.
On the eve of the release of Songs of Faith and Devotion, Wilder, Fletcher, Gahan and Gore discussed their profitable commodity, which once seemed destined for the one-hit-wonder bin but instead earned a double-digit life span.
Creem: How do you think Depeche Mode, against all odds, outlived its early peers and survived into the ‘90s?
Wilder: I think the key to our longevity is that we’ve been consistently able to write songs. Most of the groups have disappeared simply because they ran out of song ideas, particularly the Human League, who just seemed to dry out.
Gahan: I think what Depeche Mode songs do is they reflect on life, a lot of things that go on in life all the time, religion and sex. They’re two pretty exciting subjects.
Fletcher: We tried to avoid the image thing to a certain extent and being tagged with all those bands. It’s like any trend if you get involved in it. When the trend goes, you end up in trouble.
Gore: All the groups we were lumped together with were not anything like us anyway. It was a mistake then that we were actually put in the same bag. But we just gradually evolved, and I can honestly say I believe every one of our albums has gotten better. I think fans see an evolution there and tend to stick with us because they realize we are always trying to break new ground.
Gahan: We’re four pretty powerful people when we’re together in a room, and I think that’s one of the reasons we’ve survived so long as well.
Creem: Depeche Mode’s fans are a particular breed. They are obsessive, perhaps irrationally so. How do you deal with that type of fanatical adulation?
Gore: It’s very flattering, but at the same time I do find it slightly worrying because I’ve never personally been that obsessive about anything. I’ve always loved music, and when I was younger I was interested in certain bands and certain singers, but I never got that fanatical about them. I’ve never even asked for an autograph. It didn’t interest me.
Gahan: I think there’s a lot of people who come to the concerts that get very into the music, and they’re in the spirit of Depeche Mode and the feeling that’s there. It’s a special feeling at Depeche Mode concerts. Anyone who’s been to one will know what I’m talking about.
Wilder: There seems to be a tendency with Depeche Mode fans that they’re either all the-way fans or they hate us completely.
Fletcher: It takes a lot of pressure off us. It enables us to be not as safe, because we know the fans are going to buy the records.
Creem: How about the 1990 mob incident at the album signing in Los Angeles? Thousands of fans showed up at the Wherehouse record store, and damages were estimated at $25,000. These are not ordinary everyday fans. [2]
Fletcher: I suppose we are a band that you can get yourself wrapped up into. The Wherehouse thing, which was a bit close for comfort, was nearly a disaster with the injuries and stuff. But in the end it turned out to be a good publicity stunt.
Gahan: It actually got quite scary. The whole thing got a little bit out of control. There was no way we could have known that there was going to be so many people turn up. They have these huge glass windows and fans were pushing up against the window, You could feel the atmosphere in the place building up. We just all kind of looked at each other and said, ‘We gotta get out of here!’”
Creem: Does manic fan response ever seem silly to you?
Wilder: I don’t pretend to really understand why somebody would go so far in following their favourite group, which can involve days sleeping on the street in order to just get a glimpse of somebody. Because of this position we’re in we only get a chance to come across the more obsessive types. The average fan doesn’t really want to meet you and is quite happy to just buy the record or come to a concert and that’s it.
Creem: How do you return to a life of normalcy after playing in front of more than a million fans?
Gahan: You’re in this funny little world where you can do whatever you like whenever you like. You start getting a bit crazy. You really get into it. You’re a gang and there’s all the crew… and then suddenly you gotta go to the supermarket and get your groceries. You get into that and you forget for a minute that you’re in a band.
Gore: You’ve got to sort of come back to reality and do all kinds of normal things.
Wilder: You find yourself pacing around the room hating to talk in the evening. Then you realize the reason is you’re supposed to be on stage.
Creem: I think 101 and perhaps other media have offered a very limited view of Depeche Mode’s fan base. But your fans aren’t all straight, white, young people. You also have a substantial black and gay following.
Gore: I really don’t understand what the appeal of our music is. When I write a song I try to capture some sort of passion and then try and communicate that with the world, and I’m not aiming it at anyone in particular. I hope someone somewhere understands and likes what I’m trying to say. It seems to work, and I can’t really analyse it more than that. But I would like to think that it doesn’t just appeal to one race or one gender or one sexuality. It should have a broad appeal.
Gahan: I don’t think there are any rules to who can listen to Depeche Mode. It doesn’t matter if you’re black, white, red, green, or gay or straight or what, you know.
Creem: Do you think part of the music’s appeal is that people can listen to a fairly ambiguous Depeche Mode song and plug in their own meaning, draw their own conclusions?
Gore: Well, I’ve always really liked the idea of being fairly ambiguous in meanings of songs and letting the listener try to make his mind up about what the song is about. I think I put enough pointers in there for people to pretty much get on the right track, but then they can still sort of maybe see part of their own lives in the songs.
[1] - I'm not so sure about that, Martin. I've come across quite a few instances of the band members saying they freaked out at what you were wearing, but then it dawned on them that the more they told you not to do something, the more you'd do it anyway.... [continue]
[2] - You can read about that incident in this souvenir of the event. It should be clarified though that the event didn't lead to $25,000-worth of damages: the bill presented to K-ROQ was for police and paramedic time as well as the cost of cleaning up the rubbish (not actual damage, as far as I'm aware) afterwards. [continue]