You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
Article from a New Zealand magazine or possibly e-zine (can anyone give me further information?) interviewing Martin about Ultra and, inevitably, the band members' recent personal problems. Very refreshing in that it gives Martin's perspective, knocking down a few misconceptions and giving a sober view on aspects of the band that have at times been blown out of proportion. Required reading for a balanced view of what really happened.
" "I don't particularly like to vocalise about my personal problems," Gore answers. "Whether I'm an alcoholic or not, that's up in the air. I drink quite a lot. But virtually everybody I know does. Even if I do drink too much, it's a personal thing. It's not something I should be going into in every interview or talking about." "
After a period of extreme instability in which the closest Depeche Mode got to new tracks were those on singer Dave Gahan's arms, the musical violators have emerged from the mire relatively intact, boasting their ninth studio album, personnel changes and, finally, much better fashion sense.
MARTIN GORE IS EMBARRASSED. Somewhere along the way, his band, Depeche Mode, have watched their image change from terminally wimpy synth popstars to terminally wasted synth rockers: a kind of Guns 'n' Roses of the keyboard world. Mention of the band's name now comes with headline-grabbing baggage: heroin overdoses, suicide attempts, rehab treatment, drug-induced heart attacks, arrests, divorce, inter-band turmoil, changing line-ups and endless touring. And, despite global record sales of over 40 million, further down the list, it seems, is the music itself.
Now, as they prepare to start the band rolling again with Ultra, their first album in over four years, Martin Gore finds himself dissecting the actions of Depeche Mode's wayward singer and publicly-exposed heroin addict, Dave Gahan. In a nutshell, Gahan's addiction reached its zenith on the marathon Songs of Faith and Devotion tour during 1993 and '94, irrevocably dividing the band. It even brought keyboardist Alan Wilder's many years with the band to an end at the conclusion of the tour. But Gahan's habit didn't stop with the tour over. Indeed, his drug problem became the band's. Work on the new album was held up when Gahan was arrested for drug possession and almost died in what was an apparent suicide attempt after slashing his wrists. Several attempts at rehabilitation failed. And the closest the band got to new tracks were those on Gahan's arms.
"It does come to a point where, yes, it is embarrassing," admits Gore. "I have a five year old daughter; Dave has an eight year old son. At the moment my daughter is only five but I imagine by the time she gets to Dave's son's age it becomes a problem because kids start reading newspapers and they get stick from other kids. We've got a few years to sort it out in regards to my daughter and I hope we do. I hope drugs aren't such an issue in three years time."
Today, however, drugs have become synonymous with Depeche Mode, much to Gore's disgust. Thanks to Gahan's unfortunate public outing as an addict, larger than life rumours have circulated about the band. And Gore is keen to address these.
Firstly: No, they didn't have a drug dealer on the staff during the Devotional tour. "All these things are totally blown out of proportion," declares Gore. "I think that on every tour there's probably a dealer who turns up because he knows he can make some money. But he was never one of our fully paid-up staff. There were probably several dealers who turned up along the way because they know that someone in the huge touring organisation is going to buy off them."
Secondly: Yes, Gore did spend time in jail. He denies it sullied his image ("I think our image has been pretty much dirtied over the last few years") and says his arrest, for disturbing the peace, was a farce. "The night before I got arrested, I had a party in my room and there were about 50 people and it was really loud. The night of the arrest, it was me and a friend and the music was really quiet. They rang me and asked me to turn it down, so I did. They rang me again and asked me to turn it down, so I turned it off. Next thing I know there's complete silence and the police knocked on the door. I stupidly opened it. They burst in, threw me on the bed and handcuffed me. There was no music whatsoever playing. I think they were out to get me for the night before. I can't remember much about it. I was really drunk at the time and it seemed like fun. The next day, when I sobered up, I realised why some of the people in there weren't too happy with me. I'd just been done for disturbing the peace. If you've got this really jovial person in the cell next to you, singing and being really happy, and you're about to go down for 25 years, it's not that amusing. I had a good time but I only had the one night, not 25 years."
Thirdly: No, his lyrics aren't about Gahan and his problems. Far from it. "Everyone seems to think all I do is sit down and write songs about Dave and it's really not the case," laughs Gore. "I always write from a first-person perspective. I don't know what's going on in someone else's head. I always hate going into exactly what was going through your head when you wrote a song. It takes away all the mystique. I think there should be some mystery there."
Fourthly: Yes, Gahan does seem to think Gore's lyrics are therapy for him. "He does seem to get some therapeutic value from singing the songs," admits Gore. "He does definitely feel passion for the songs and obviously feels some connection. I don't think it's surprising he relates to the songs. We come from a very similar upbringing and we've been in a band for 17 years. We must have some points of reference along the way."
Fifthly: Yes, Gore and keyboardist/businessman Andrew Fletcher did support Gahan during his ordeal, despite claims by Gahan to the contrary, including: "I didn't get any support at all, verbally, from Fletch or Mart at any point." "I think even Dave will admit it didn't matter what kind of support we tried to give him, he was isolating himself," explains Gore. "He admits he was a clever junkie; he hid as much as he could from us. We knew there was a drug problem but we didn't know its magnitude until way too late anyway. But we've given Dave chance after chance after chance and fortunately he's actually taken us up on one of those chances this time."
Sixthly: No, Gore isn't an alcoholic, despite Gahan basically outing him as one in current interviews. "I don't particularly like to vocalise about my personal problems," Gore answers. "Whether I'm an alcoholic or not, that's up in the air. I drink quite a lot. But virtually everybody I know does. Even if I do drink too much, it's a personal thing. It's not something I should be going into in every interview or talking about. Dave has come to realise that he may not have made the right decision to go into interviews and open his heart about his private life, especially the drug aspect. It's getting very boring. Every interview he goes into now, all they want to talk about is drugs. The fact that he happens to make music seems to be irrelevant for most people."
Last edited:
MUSIC: DEPECHE MODE MAKE IT FOR the masses. After beginning life as a fluffy new wave synth act under the songwriting guidance of Vince Clarke, Depeche Mode became progressively more subversive during the '80s, when Martin Gore took over principal songwriting duties. Gore wrote about bondage, religion, suicide, death and royalty and still managed to score pop hits in both Britain and Europe. They banged metal objects on stage over stark electronic beats in a manner that inspired countless industrial bands. Then, after years of touring they finally cracked America with the singles People Are People and Never Let Me Down Again and the album Music for the Masses, capturing the breakthrough on a film, 101, shot by former Bob Dylan documentary-maker D. E. Pennebaker. Violator, the 1990 follow-up to the documentary's companion live album, then went on to sell six million copies in America alone. A lengthy tour to accompany the album saw the band sporting guitars for the first time ever and Gahan relishing the role of rockstar.
Unfortunately, Gahan didn't stop the act once he'd left the stage. By the time Songs of Faith and Devotion was being written and recorded, Gahan was hanging out with the likes of Primal Scream, Guns 'n' Roses and Nine Inch Nails and complaining that Depeche Mode's music was too lightweight. Perhaps in response, that album opened with over a minute of feedback and contained some of Gore's darkest songs, both lyrically and musically. Meanwhile, the Devotional tour saw the increasingly-tattooed Gahan transform himself into a '90s Jim Morrison, goading the audience, striking Jesus Christ poses and chanting "let me see those hands" at completely inappropriate moments. Industry insiders not only hinted at drug problems within the band but also suggested a serious deterioration in relations between band members, provoked by a seemingly eternal tour. The Devotional tour was, Gore now admits, way too long.
"Previously, the longest tour we'd done was nine months. That one was 14 months. At the end of it, obviously Alan had had too much. He left the band. Andy had to leave the tour. He was going through terrible depression. He had a sort of nervous breakdown. We had to get a replacement for the last three or four months. It was just the two seizures for me. Dave had various heart murmurs along the way; he was rushed to hospital. It was just too much. It takes its toll."
It's a common story in the music world. So why not simply stop? "It was complicated," admits Gore. "Once you've decided to do a tour of that length and all the dates are booked, it becomes a commitment. It was very hard half way through for us to say, 'Let's forget this and go home'. You would have been disappointing too many people. There would have been four very happy people but a lot of very unhappy people."
Unfortunately, Gahan didn't stop the act once he'd left the stage. By the time Songs of Faith and Devotion was being written and recorded, Gahan was hanging out with the likes of Primal Scream, Guns 'n' Roses and Nine Inch Nails and complaining that Depeche Mode's music was too lightweight. Perhaps in response, that album opened with over a minute of feedback and contained some of Gore's darkest songs, both lyrically and musically. Meanwhile, the Devotional tour saw the increasingly-tattooed Gahan transform himself into a '90s Jim Morrison, goading the audience, striking Jesus Christ poses and chanting "let me see those hands" at completely inappropriate moments. Industry insiders not only hinted at drug problems within the band but also suggested a serious deterioration in relations between band members, provoked by a seemingly eternal tour. The Devotional tour was, Gore now admits, way too long.
"Previously, the longest tour we'd done was nine months. That one was 14 months. At the end of it, obviously Alan had had too much. He left the band. Andy had to leave the tour. He was going through terrible depression. He had a sort of nervous breakdown. We had to get a replacement for the last three or four months. It was just the two seizures for me. Dave had various heart murmurs along the way; he was rushed to hospital. It was just too much. It takes its toll."
It's a common story in the music world. So why not simply stop? "It was complicated," admits Gore. "Once you've decided to do a tour of that length and all the dates are booked, it becomes a commitment. It was very hard half way through for us to say, 'Let's forget this and go home'. You would have been disappointing too many people. There would have been four very happy people but a lot of very unhappy people."
Last edited:
FAST FORWARD TO 1997. DEPECHE Mode are happy again. They aren't touring their new album ("We couldn't handle it," confides Gore), embarking on some serious promotion instead. A new Greatest Hits compilation is earmarked for the end of the year, with a possible Ultra/Hits tour in 1998. But it wasn't always this calculated. There was a point just a few years ago when Depeche Mode basically didn't exist. Studios were booked but Gahan would either not turn up or would take weeks to record vocals. Recording moved from New York to L.A., then finally to Abbey Road in London. In the midst of all this, Ultra almost became the next Martin Gore solo album (a mini album, Counterfeit, comprising six cover versions, was his first solo effort a few years ago).
"There were definite times for me when it all seemed hopeless and there seemed very little point in keeping the band going," reflects Gore. "At least at one or two stages during this record, when it seemed very unlikely that the band would finish this record, obviously I had to think about finishing it myself. It would have ended up a solo record. There was no way it was going to be half a Depeche Mode album."
As it stands, Ultra is without doubt a Depeche Mode album from start to finish. After what was more a love affair than a mild flirtation with rock on Songs of Faith and Devotion, the new album is a return to the moody synth-based sounds on 1988's Music for the Masses (home to singles Strangelove, Never Let Me Down Again, Little 15 and Behind the Wheel) [1] and 1990's Violator (with singles Personal Jesus, Enjoy the Silence and Policy of Truth).
"There is still quite a lot of guitar on this record," insists Gore, "but it's far more electronic-based. The last album was a strange blip in Depeche Mode's career. We went out to make a rock album." But it was, Gore is quick to add, an enjoyable 'blip'.
"It was slightly more fun playing guitar and running down, with that bond from the audience, from one metre as opposed to ten metres. Guitar has been part of Depeche Mode for a while now. It's still there. When Speak and Spell came out in 1981, we had this really naff image. The music was really wimpy and naff. That's in my book. Some people still seem to like it. But to me it sounds like a totally different band. But that was 1981; it is now 1997. I don't think we need to challenge that image anymore. Yeah, we regret it but not too much because we're still here 17 years later. I think we should be grateful that anyone is still interested after our early image."
Ultra was, according to Gore, a simultaneously tense and peaceful album to make. "I'm sure a little bit of tension helps. But a little bit less next time, please!" laughs Gore. While Gahan's "problems" held things up during recording,
Ultra is the first album made as a trio and, therefore, the easiest. "The less people you have in a band, the easier it is because there are less compromises," explains Gore. Exiting Depeche Mode was Wilder, who replaced Vince Clarke in 1982 when he left to work with Alison Moyet in Yazoo and, subsequently, with Andy Bell in Erasure. A classically-trained pianist, Wilder was long regarded as Depeche Mode's programming whiz. His solo project, Recoil, showed exactly how much he contributed to the band's music. But he had long felt unappreciated in Depeche Mode and when he'd finally had enough and quit, he wasn't shy about airing his dirty laundry in a vitriolic press release. He claimed to be dissatisfied with the "internal relations and working practices" of the group, described as "strained, increasingly frustrating...and intolerable". The last paragraph stated, "Whilst I believe that the calibre of our musical output has improved, the quality of our association has deteriorated to the point where I no longer feel that the end justifies the means."
"It wasn't totally unexpected," says Gore of Wilder's departure. "Alan's always been very private and secretive, so it's very hard to know exactly how he's thinking at any given point. But it became very apparent to us that he wasn't happy. It wasn't a shock at all when he left. I think he took too much upon himself. I think even he would readily admit he's a control freak. When we were quite happy going home midnight or one a.m. during recording the last album, he would happily sit in the studio until four because he's a studiohead. I think he feels we weren't grateful enough to him or something."
Ironically, given his initial role as Depeche Mode's head songwriting honcho, Clarke contacted the newly streamlined band offering the keyboard services he withdrew after the first album was released. "Vince jokingly said that he would love to come back and replace Alan," laughs Gore. "It was quite funny the first time he did it but by the fiftieth time we weren't quite sure whether he was joking or not. He literally said it to me so many times that I was thinking, 'I think he's deadly serious'. But our music is so different these days, I couldn't see him fitting into what Depeche Mode do. It might be quite interesting for us to get together and just play all the songs from Speak and Spell...NOT! Hahahahaha."
Wilder's place was taken by Tim Simenon, the brains behind Bomb The Bass (remember Beat Dis?) and a long-time Depeche Mode fan. Simenon and his crew helped sculpt the sound of Ultra. "At an early stage, the demos had a 'dance' feel to them, for want of a better word," explains Gore. "They weren't out and out party time but they had slow grooves. And we thought we should work with someone in the dance field.
"There was this easy atmosphere," he continues. "And this friendly, nice atmosphere hasn't always been there in the past. Tim knows exactly what has happened before and where we should be going, as we do. He just helps push us in the right direction, knowing the whole history. Some people might come in and not know you inside out. They don't have the same perspective we have. But Tim does."
Simenon is not the only Depeche Mode fan to come out of the closet recently. Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails has name-dropped the band as an influence; American brat-rappers Bloodhound Gang actually started life as a Depeche Mode tribute band; back in England, Underworld remixed Barrel of A Gun, the first single off Ultra, not once but twice; and Smashing Pumpkins covered I Feel You, a single off Songs of Faith and Devotion, live, and recorded Never Let Me Down Again as a b-side ("When I heard they'd done a version, I expected it to be really rocky and heavy," recalls Gore, "and it wasn't. It was a real gentle version that meant a lot to me"). Also, a Depeche Mode tribute album featuring "a lot of big names I can't remember" is in the pipeline. [2]
"It's nice that music seems to be on a different level at the moment and we seem to be on this up curve," smiles Gore. "Everyone we meet at the moment seems to be a fan. There are all these young bands that we bump into, like Placebo: they're massive fans. It's really nice to hear that. For ages our name was dirt. At one point we couldn't do anything right. Now we can't put a foot wrong. It's nice to know someone cares."
"There were definite times for me when it all seemed hopeless and there seemed very little point in keeping the band going," reflects Gore. "At least at one or two stages during this record, when it seemed very unlikely that the band would finish this record, obviously I had to think about finishing it myself. It would have ended up a solo record. There was no way it was going to be half a Depeche Mode album."
As it stands, Ultra is without doubt a Depeche Mode album from start to finish. After what was more a love affair than a mild flirtation with rock on Songs of Faith and Devotion, the new album is a return to the moody synth-based sounds on 1988's Music for the Masses (home to singles Strangelove, Never Let Me Down Again, Little 15 and Behind the Wheel) [1] and 1990's Violator (with singles Personal Jesus, Enjoy the Silence and Policy of Truth).
"There is still quite a lot of guitar on this record," insists Gore, "but it's far more electronic-based. The last album was a strange blip in Depeche Mode's career. We went out to make a rock album." But it was, Gore is quick to add, an enjoyable 'blip'.
"It was slightly more fun playing guitar and running down, with that bond from the audience, from one metre as opposed to ten metres. Guitar has been part of Depeche Mode for a while now. It's still there. When Speak and Spell came out in 1981, we had this really naff image. The music was really wimpy and naff. That's in my book. Some people still seem to like it. But to me it sounds like a totally different band. But that was 1981; it is now 1997. I don't think we need to challenge that image anymore. Yeah, we regret it but not too much because we're still here 17 years later. I think we should be grateful that anyone is still interested after our early image."
Ultra was, according to Gore, a simultaneously tense and peaceful album to make. "I'm sure a little bit of tension helps. But a little bit less next time, please!" laughs Gore. While Gahan's "problems" held things up during recording,
Ultra is the first album made as a trio and, therefore, the easiest. "The less people you have in a band, the easier it is because there are less compromises," explains Gore. Exiting Depeche Mode was Wilder, who replaced Vince Clarke in 1982 when he left to work with Alison Moyet in Yazoo and, subsequently, with Andy Bell in Erasure. A classically-trained pianist, Wilder was long regarded as Depeche Mode's programming whiz. His solo project, Recoil, showed exactly how much he contributed to the band's music. But he had long felt unappreciated in Depeche Mode and when he'd finally had enough and quit, he wasn't shy about airing his dirty laundry in a vitriolic press release. He claimed to be dissatisfied with the "internal relations and working practices" of the group, described as "strained, increasingly frustrating...and intolerable". The last paragraph stated, "Whilst I believe that the calibre of our musical output has improved, the quality of our association has deteriorated to the point where I no longer feel that the end justifies the means."
"It wasn't totally unexpected," says Gore of Wilder's departure. "Alan's always been very private and secretive, so it's very hard to know exactly how he's thinking at any given point. But it became very apparent to us that he wasn't happy. It wasn't a shock at all when he left. I think he took too much upon himself. I think even he would readily admit he's a control freak. When we were quite happy going home midnight or one a.m. during recording the last album, he would happily sit in the studio until four because he's a studiohead. I think he feels we weren't grateful enough to him or something."
Ironically, given his initial role as Depeche Mode's head songwriting honcho, Clarke contacted the newly streamlined band offering the keyboard services he withdrew after the first album was released. "Vince jokingly said that he would love to come back and replace Alan," laughs Gore. "It was quite funny the first time he did it but by the fiftieth time we weren't quite sure whether he was joking or not. He literally said it to me so many times that I was thinking, 'I think he's deadly serious'. But our music is so different these days, I couldn't see him fitting into what Depeche Mode do. It might be quite interesting for us to get together and just play all the songs from Speak and Spell...NOT! Hahahahaha."
Wilder's place was taken by Tim Simenon, the brains behind Bomb The Bass (remember Beat Dis?) and a long-time Depeche Mode fan. Simenon and his crew helped sculpt the sound of Ultra. "At an early stage, the demos had a 'dance' feel to them, for want of a better word," explains Gore. "They weren't out and out party time but they had slow grooves. And we thought we should work with someone in the dance field.
"There was this easy atmosphere," he continues. "And this friendly, nice atmosphere hasn't always been there in the past. Tim knows exactly what has happened before and where we should be going, as we do. He just helps push us in the right direction, knowing the whole history. Some people might come in and not know you inside out. They don't have the same perspective we have. But Tim does."
Simenon is not the only Depeche Mode fan to come out of the closet recently. Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails has name-dropped the band as an influence; American brat-rappers Bloodhound Gang actually started life as a Depeche Mode tribute band; back in England, Underworld remixed Barrel of A Gun, the first single off Ultra, not once but twice; and Smashing Pumpkins covered I Feel You, a single off Songs of Faith and Devotion, live, and recorded Never Let Me Down Again as a b-side ("When I heard they'd done a version, I expected it to be really rocky and heavy," recalls Gore, "and it wasn't. It was a real gentle version that meant a lot to me"). Also, a Depeche Mode tribute album featuring "a lot of big names I can't remember" is in the pipeline. [2]
"It's nice that music seems to be on a different level at the moment and we seem to be on this up curve," smiles Gore. "Everyone we meet at the moment seems to be a fan. There are all these young bands that we bump into, like Placebo: they're massive fans. It's really nice to hear that. For ages our name was dirt. At one point we couldn't do anything right. Now we can't put a foot wrong. It's nice to know someone cares."
[1] - Music For The Masses was 1987.
[2] - The album, "For The Masses", was released in 1998.