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SYNTH
AND SENSIBILITIES
[NME,
25th January 1997. Words: Keith Cameron. Pictures: Stefan de Batselier.]
" "One thing we should always remember is that Dave and drugs is a small facet of this band. It's a big part of Dave's life but, of course, it makes headline news and it's always over-focused upon. But there are so many other interesting facets to this band..." "
Summary:
Sequel to this outstanding article
in which Dave discusses his troubles. Martin and Andy make sparkling
interviewees discussing their own personal problems, their perspective on Dave's
troubles, the loss of Alan Wilder (with a little bitching) and the making of the
Ultra album. The occasional two-penn'orth from Dave stops the article
from appearing to pit band members against each other, and the article on the
whole is very readable: no easy task given the subject matter. [2855 words]
Try
also: "Dead Man
Talking" [NME, 18th January 1997]
Pavement, 16th April 1997
"Modus
Operandi" [Detour, May 1997]
"Many
Smack-Free Returns!" [Q, June 2001]
"The Basildon Bond" [The Times Magazine, 14th April 2001]
Last week Dave Gahan flabbered your collective 'gast with his terrible tale of all-round narcotic foolishness. In the second part of our DEPECHE MODE exclusive fellow Modesters MARTIN GORE and ANDY 'FLETCH' FLETCHER, tell KEITH CAMERON how they coped with the drug-soaked tours and breakdowns (their own this time) to come back with the new album, 'Ultra'. Ultra vivid seen: STEFAN DE BATSELIER
So you think your band is big? Sorry, Noel. On the reception wall at Abbey Road Studios hangs the ultimate in ego-quashers: a presentation disc dedicated to the trifling matter of The Beatles and their record sales. Total units shifted - one billion, and counting. Really, most awfully, terribly sorry, Noel.
But when Oasis left the most famous recording studio in London NW8 last autumn, Depeche Mode moved in. Now that's a bit more like it. By any reasonable parameters, Depeche Mode are big. They'll tell you themselves.
"We've probably sold more LPs than any other modern British band," says Andy Fletcher.
See? Big.
"Easily, I would have thought."
How many's that, then?
"Ooh, dunno, can't count. We haven't done that George Michael thing and added them all up."
Martin Gore frowns. "It's probably along the lines of 30 million albums."
"Probably more than that," advises Fletch.
"More than that?"
"Yeah, I reckon it's between 50 and 60 million albums," says Fletch, his powers of mental arithmetic evidently revived.
"But to put things in perspective," cautions Martin, "it's nowhere near a billion."
True, they're still a long way behind The Beatles, but Depeche Mode have made an undeniably decent fist of being The Rolling Stones. The last time Mode took to the road was the cue for bacchanalian indulgence on a titanic scale.
Spread over 14 months, embracing 125 shows on five continents, the 'Devotional' tour came supplied with its own definitions of 'big'. Depeche Mode played to big crowds in big stadiums, made big amounts of noise and money...and held big parties every night. So big and hungry was the Mode battalion on the 'Devotional' tour that a full-time dealer was employed to ensure that the supply of drugs never ran out. For more than a year, Depeche Mode, erstwhile synth-pop jessies from Basildon, lived it as large as rock myth dictates - and nearly killed themselves in the process.
David Gahan, of course, came closest to the fact of his own mortality. Unable to tame his road-enraged heroin addiction, the Mode singer wound up flatlining in a Los Angeles ambulance last summer, the near-death scenario which impelled his ongoing rehabilitation and led, ultimately, to the completion at Abbey Road of the new Depeche album.
Gahan didn't know when to stop, but the others had their moments too. Roll call at the end of the 'Devotional' marathon saw Depeche Mode comprising one junkie, one nervous breakdown, one physical and emotional wreck, and one ex-member. Alan Wilder's departure apparently bode ill for the state of group harmony. But at least he'd managed to stay out of hospital. [1] Martin Gore was twice stricken with seizures caused by "overdoing it", while Andy Fletcher was absent for the final American leg, unable to withstand the mental stress and anxiety any longer.
Lunching at Fletcher's own Maida Vale bar-restaurant, Martin Gore betrays the slightly shell-shocked air of a man who has witnessed amazing and terrible deeds, all instigated at his behest.
"We lost the plot. We overplayed it with that last tour. But it's really difficult for us, at our level, to just decide to do a few key dates around the world. The minimum we would have to tour is nine months. Maybe we should have stuck to that, that's what we did with 'Violator', which was 90 concerts. Which, even so, is too much and heavy and gruelling. But with the last project we decided to do a 14-month tour, and I think those extra 30 to 40 gigs were the straw that broke the camel's back. Heh-heh-heh!" [2]
"The intensity of the partying had gone to a new stage," adds Fletch. "It had just been steadily getting worse and worse and worse and worse, until on that tour in particular it was just one huge party. Every night. Martin says he only went to bed early one time on the whole tour."
Martin Gore laughs again. It's a strange laugh, like someone attempting a tremulous, basso profondo impression of Basil Brush. "Heh-heh-heh!" When he really gets going, it mutates slightly and he sounds like he's about to choke on his chips. "A-heurgh! A-heurgh! A-heurgh-heurgh-heurgh!"
How early is early?
Martin: "About 12. You don't get offstage usually 'til 10.30, 11, so to get to bed by 12 you've really achieved something there."
Fletch: "The whole story just sounds so rock 'n' roll. But, I suppose, it is. That's the way it was."
If Andy Fletcher sounds a little amazed hearing himself make this observation, it's hardly surprising. Built for a career in accountancy as opposed to feasting on the flesh of freshly sacrificed virgins, his primary role in Depeche Mode is to oversee the conception, execution and successful resolution of each 'project', as both he and Gore are wont to term official Mode activity. This even extends to refusing to allow Martin five minutes to finish his beer before we depart for the photo-shoot. "Come on," he flusters, "we do have a bit of a schedule on today."
But, as Martin himself protests, Depeche Mode "are not as depraved as people would like to make out". Dave Gahan might look like rock 'n' roll incarnate now, but 'twas not ever thus. Nay. The inspiration for his Satan-sponsored makeover came from a book. Indeed, a book about The Rolling Stones.
"Yeah," Gahan nods, a little sheepishly, in his Abbey Road interview lair. "Philip Norman (author of The Stones biography). Keef, man! Keef was for real! And I look at him now, and I love him."
As Gahan is all too aware, Keef survived as long as he has via the good services of professional 'doctors', who toured with the Stones throughout their drug heyday. Had Dave not been similarly catered for on the 'Devotional' tour, he might not have seen that project through, let alone begin and eventually conclude this new one.
"We had a fully-paid psychiatrist on the road as well!" laughs Gahan. "Pretty funny. I never went to see him, I didn't have any problems, hahaha! Not psychological, anyway! I even too it so far as to be desperate to get Primal Scream to come on the road with us. They were perfect, absolutely perfect! I loved that last album, everything about them was what I wanted us to be! That was my fantasy. We had a lot of fun, actually, a lot of good times. They'd always be in my dressing room!"
It must have been carnage.
"It was brilliant! There'd be a knock at the door before the show and it's Innes, or Throb, or Bobby, (adopts pretty respectable Glaswegian accent) 'Have ye got a wee sniff, Mr G? I cannae make it tonight, I've been on the Jack all day, I just need a wee sniff, Mr G'. Hahaha! Really funny. And of course, I'd supply them with what they needed. Bobby saw right through my little game, and I felt I saw right through him. He gives off this great image of being this wasted f---up, but he's a real smart, clever guy. Bobby balanced it really well, he knew where to stop. I didn't realise that nobody actually did play the game that hard. And the Scream proved that."
For Martin and Fletch, the impact of Dave's lifestyle choice appears cushioned by the distance, physical and spiritual, that has graphically developed between the three Essex boys ever since Gahan moved to Los Angeles in 1991. Neither of them has ever done heroin, and therefore both freely admit to not truly comprehending what happened to their friend.
"I've only actually thought Dave was dead twice," says Martin, "which is not bad going, If you get a phonecall and it's your manager or somebody saying, 'I need to speak to you about Dave, something really bad's happened', the first thought you have is 'Oh my God, this time it's the big one'. And that's only happened twice. And it's really bad, but that's par for the course as Dave goes."
"He should have been dead," states Fletch. "He should have been dead, honestly. I don't know how his body actually kept up with it."
Martin: "What's that phrase? Institutions, jail, death? And Dave says, 'I've been there and done them all'. And he's still walking. He's still singing. So it's a miracle, praise the Lord. Heh-heh-heh-heh!"
[1] - He hadn't though. While touring in South Africa in February 1994, Alan was rushed to hospital and operated on for kidney stones. [continue]
[2] - 156 dates were crammed into those 14 months - the Devotional Tour plus an 'Exotic Tour' in the summer of 1994. [continue]