A Black Celebration
[Unknown magazine, April 1986. Words: Max Bell. Pictures: John Stoddart.]
Max Bell takes a look at Depeche Mode before, during and after their Black Celebration! Pics John Stoddart.
“Name the only two South American countries that don’t border on Brazil?” Martin Gore is sitting at the back of Depeche Mode’s luxurious coach firing silly questions at Andy Fletcher as the band speed from the Holiday Inn to Birmingham’s 8000-seater NEC.
At times like this, 90 minutes from showtime, the Modey nerves are starting to get jittery so Martin and Andy play Travellers Trivia in between regular toilet visits.
The coach pulls into the NEC to screams of recognition and Depeche slip into their pop star mode, signing autographs and chatting to fans before their two German confidants, tour manager Harold and massive Mohican-haired minder Andre, whisk them to the dressing room. Depeche Mode don’t attract the kind of mobbing that eventually distances a band from their following but should anyone step too close then Andre can always fall back on one of the four martial arts he has up his sleeve for emergencies.
Andre used to train Vietnam marines.
Martin tells me a delightfully gory tale to illustrate this. “Andre gave me a few hints to use on potential assassins,” he laughs merrily.
“The best one is a quick karate chop to the bride of the nose followed swiftly by a forearm smash that pushes the nose bone into the brain. Death follows in three seconds.” Charming.
BUM WIGGLES
In the meantime support band Hula have finished their set and the Modeys are beginning to add finishing touches, get made-up and sort out their onstage wardrobe. The dressing room is cleared so the band can start getting psyched up.
We take our seats underneath two huge video screens which will bring the concert closer to those sitting at the back of this huge hall. Already the familiar high-pitched female screaming has started. The wails rise to a roar as suddenly four shadowy figures are seen behind the safety curtain. The three musical Modeys are raised on plinths and Gahan is practising his bum wiggles.
The lights dim and a mixture of noises sweep through the auditorium, an eerie combination of human and electronic sounds that flood underneath the curtain and the “Black Celebration” has begun…
As a live group, Depeche must be one of the five best in Britain.
Always entertaining and capable of generating a genuine excitement that they sometimes lack on record, Depeche’s strength is to stimulate the electronic parts no other band in the pop mainstream reaches anymore.
Dave Gahan is the focal point for most, his natural exhibitionist tendencies and boundless energies stamp his a real trouper. Dave has studied the rock’n’roll sex symbol role carefully. His bum wiggle, which sends the girls into raptures every time, is a variation on a theme from Chuck Berry to Elvis Presley to Mick Jagger, and his throaty growling is borrowed from one of his heroes, Jim Morrison. Gahan adds his own sense of humour to what could be a grey, corny, old fashioned routine. He smiles a lot and his good humour transfers to the performance. He doesn’t take it all too seriously.
TOKYO 2000
Years of experience in large stadiums have taught the group the value of exploiting a stage set. The Black Celebration tour has swapped last year’s steep walkways for platforms and two ghostly blue fluorescent tubes. The only other props are two bizarre metal sculptures that can be used as percussion instruments. When they’re not being hit these symbols resemble strange Japanese symbols and transform the backdrop into a cross between Bladerunner and Tokyo in the year 2000. The stage set cost £25000 but it will last for five months. “It’s better value than a month in the studio,” Gore told me earlier.
The songs are well balanced between the moodier Gothic feel of “Flies On The Windscreen” and enigmatic pure pop singalongs like “Shake The Disease” and “It’s Called A Heart”. Unlike most other guitar groups their crystal clear sound allows a greater variety of noises, from acoustic guitar to industrial metal screeching. The effort is almost atmospheric.
Half way through the evening Gahan leaves the stage and Martin Gore moves from his pedestal to crouch at the front and croon “It Doesn’t Matter” and new single “A Question Of Lust”, two of the new songs which are the most personal numbers of the “Black Celebration” record. This being Martin they are also quite depressing ballads but just when you’re reaching for the razor, Gahan bounds back and tears turn to screams.
If the video to “A Question Of Lust doesn’t convince you that Depeche Mode have buried their “nice boys next door” image then the reaction to songs like “Stripped” and “Master And Servant” will. Gahan turns the latter into a classic example of dominance and submission with the audience eating out of his hand. The controversial “Blasphemous Rumours” is even better, it changes from a graceful organ fugue to full scale punky anarchy.
Only “New Dress” is a weak point. The song is slight and even Gahan doesn’t sound convincing singing about Princess Di! No matter, “People Are People” and a quartet of nostalgic hits, “Photographic”, “Boys Say Go”, “Just Can’t Get Enough” and “More Than A Party” leaves the NEC boiling with excitement.
The group take their bows at the front and pick up their bouquets like opera stars. Backstage there is no talk about the show which Alan Wilder says “was just alright.” Instead they tuck into the snacks. “I’m starving”, says Fletch, “and we had a three course meal before we went on”. Sandwiches in hand, the band gather in front of a TV and watch Chelsea hammer Man. Utd. Bottles of Grolsch are raised by Fletch, Gahan and Mute Records boss Daniel Miller – Chelsea fans all. Martin Gore pretends to be interested but football doesn’t really go with his leather image.
The fans go home happy. Fans like Vikkie Smith and Charlotte Meyerson who travelled from Birkenhead on the Merseyside coach. They’re happy because Depeche Mode got their little note and read it out. Everything counts in large amounts but it’s the little things that really endear a group to its fans.
[Unknown magazine, April 1986. Words: Max Bell. Pictures: John Stoddart.]
Max Bell takes a look at Depeche Mode before, during and after their Black Celebration! Pics John Stoddart.
“Name the only two South American countries that don’t border on Brazil?” Martin Gore is sitting at the back of Depeche Mode’s luxurious coach firing silly questions at Andy Fletcher as the band speed from the Holiday Inn to Birmingham’s 8000-seater NEC.
At times like this, 90 minutes from showtime, the Modey nerves are starting to get jittery so Martin and Andy play Travellers Trivia in between regular toilet visits.
The coach pulls into the NEC to screams of recognition and Depeche slip into their pop star mode, signing autographs and chatting to fans before their two German confidants, tour manager Harold and massive Mohican-haired minder Andre, whisk them to the dressing room. Depeche Mode don’t attract the kind of mobbing that eventually distances a band from their following but should anyone step too close then Andre can always fall back on one of the four martial arts he has up his sleeve for emergencies.
Andre used to train Vietnam marines.
Martin tells me a delightfully gory tale to illustrate this. “Andre gave me a few hints to use on potential assassins,” he laughs merrily.
“The best one is a quick karate chop to the bride of the nose followed swiftly by a forearm smash that pushes the nose bone into the brain. Death follows in three seconds.” Charming.
BUM WIGGLES
In the meantime support band Hula have finished their set and the Modeys are beginning to add finishing touches, get made-up and sort out their onstage wardrobe. The dressing room is cleared so the band can start getting psyched up.
We take our seats underneath two huge video screens which will bring the concert closer to those sitting at the back of this huge hall. Already the familiar high-pitched female screaming has started. The wails rise to a roar as suddenly four shadowy figures are seen behind the safety curtain. The three musical Modeys are raised on plinths and Gahan is practising his bum wiggles.
The lights dim and a mixture of noises sweep through the auditorium, an eerie combination of human and electronic sounds that flood underneath the curtain and the “Black Celebration” has begun…
As a live group, Depeche must be one of the five best in Britain.
Always entertaining and capable of generating a genuine excitement that they sometimes lack on record, Depeche’s strength is to stimulate the electronic parts no other band in the pop mainstream reaches anymore.
Dave Gahan is the focal point for most, his natural exhibitionist tendencies and boundless energies stamp his a real trouper. Dave has studied the rock’n’roll sex symbol role carefully. His bum wiggle, which sends the girls into raptures every time, is a variation on a theme from Chuck Berry to Elvis Presley to Mick Jagger, and his throaty growling is borrowed from one of his heroes, Jim Morrison. Gahan adds his own sense of humour to what could be a grey, corny, old fashioned routine. He smiles a lot and his good humour transfers to the performance. He doesn’t take it all too seriously.
TOKYO 2000
Years of experience in large stadiums have taught the group the value of exploiting a stage set. The Black Celebration tour has swapped last year’s steep walkways for platforms and two ghostly blue fluorescent tubes. The only other props are two bizarre metal sculptures that can be used as percussion instruments. When they’re not being hit these symbols resemble strange Japanese symbols and transform the backdrop into a cross between Bladerunner and Tokyo in the year 2000. The stage set cost £25000 but it will last for five months. “It’s better value than a month in the studio,” Gore told me earlier.
The songs are well balanced between the moodier Gothic feel of “Flies On The Windscreen” and enigmatic pure pop singalongs like “Shake The Disease” and “It’s Called A Heart”. Unlike most other guitar groups their crystal clear sound allows a greater variety of noises, from acoustic guitar to industrial metal screeching. The effort is almost atmospheric.
Half way through the evening Gahan leaves the stage and Martin Gore moves from his pedestal to crouch at the front and croon “It Doesn’t Matter” and new single “A Question Of Lust”, two of the new songs which are the most personal numbers of the “Black Celebration” record. This being Martin they are also quite depressing ballads but just when you’re reaching for the razor, Gahan bounds back and tears turn to screams.
If the video to “A Question Of Lust doesn’t convince you that Depeche Mode have buried their “nice boys next door” image then the reaction to songs like “Stripped” and “Master And Servant” will. Gahan turns the latter into a classic example of dominance and submission with the audience eating out of his hand. The controversial “Blasphemous Rumours” is even better, it changes from a graceful organ fugue to full scale punky anarchy.
Only “New Dress” is a weak point. The song is slight and even Gahan doesn’t sound convincing singing about Princess Di! No matter, “People Are People” and a quartet of nostalgic hits, “Photographic”, “Boys Say Go”, “Just Can’t Get Enough” and “More Than A Party” leaves the NEC boiling with excitement.
The group take their bows at the front and pick up their bouquets like opera stars. Backstage there is no talk about the show which Alan Wilder says “was just alright.” Instead they tuck into the snacks. “I’m starving”, says Fletch, “and we had a three course meal before we went on”. Sandwiches in hand, the band gather in front of a TV and watch Chelsea hammer Man. Utd. Bottles of Grolsch are raised by Fletch, Gahan and Mute Records boss Daniel Miller – Chelsea fans all. Martin Gore pretends to be interested but football doesn’t really go with his leather image.
The fans go home happy. Fans like Vikkie Smith and Charlotte Meyerson who travelled from Birkenhead on the Merseyside coach. They’re happy because Depeche Mode got their little note and read it out. Everything counts in large amounts but it’s the little things that really endear a group to its fans.