Angels With Shining Faces
[Record Mirror, 1st August 1981. Words: Mike Nicholls. Picture: Uncredited.]
ANGELS WITH SHINING FACES
There’s something very unusual about these lads. Not just the funny threads and lop-sided haircuts. It’s those faces: Stern, well-scrubbed, shiny, angelic, even. More like cherubs than boys in a band. Or choirboys.
“Andy and Vince both used to sing in church,” Martin reveals mischievously, “but then the devil got them. Very evil, the devil, you know,” he continues, much to his colleagues’ embarrassment.
But the best is yet to come. Depeche Mode is not the only combo Messrs Fletcher and Clarke have ever had in common. Nor their respective Christian church choirs. No, for five years they both played in the Boys’ Brigade!
Now in case you’re thinking you’ve never seen members of this worthy organisation marching up your high street doodling about on synthesisers, it ought to be pointed out that they haven’t always relied on these fascinating machines.
For the first half of their 14 month existence it was boring old guitar, bass and keys until one day Martin brought along a VC23 or something. “It didn’t take long for the others to follow suit. They’re a lot easier to lean to play from scratch than most other instruments,” the third twiddler admits.
“And portable too,” Dave (silicon) chips in. “We can fit all our gear into a few suitcases and drop ‘em into the boot of the car. No need for amplifiers, back-lines or anything.”
Dave Gahan was the last member to join the group. This comes as no surprise whatsoever since he’s most certainly the odd man out. Whereas the others tend to be guarded and reserved, the singer displays the kind of confidence you’d expect from someone who virtually talked his way into the band.
“Dave started jamming with us in rehearsals one day, so we asked him to join,” Martin recalls. “It wasn’t as if he was a total stranger. In fact we’ve all known each other since schooldays. It’s much better that way. You can’t possibly get on as well with newcomers who’ve been fixed up from adverts in the music press,” he declared baldly.
Must be more of a crack appearing on TOTP when you’re old pals. What do your mums think? Are they proud of their little boys?
“I try not to tell mine much,” the shy chap replies, “otherwise my mum just goes round bragging it to the butcher, the greengrocer… everybody!”
Parental fringe benefit, squire. Any more TV lined up?
“Yeah, we’re on ‘20th Century Box’, too. They’re doing a programme about the music scene round Basildon which is where we’re from.”
Now Basildon might not be renowned as a rock’n’roll epicentre but there’s a club where the quartet started attracting a lot of attention. Crocs is its name and Depeche Mode soon became the focal point of its burgeoning futurist knees-ups.
“We were the first band to play there,” claims Dave. “The resident DJ, Rusty Egan, liked us and so we then got a spot on one of the Thursday nights he was running at the Venue. Rusty’s my hero,” he confides.
Although still holding the affable innovator in high esteem, it is with a rather more low profile entrepreneur that Depeche Mode have decided to entrust their affairs. Daniel Miller, who charmed half a hemisphere (not to mention Grace Jones) with ‘Warm Leatherette’ owns their present record label, Mute, and the boys seem to want to keep it that way.
Mute might only be an indie – and one that can’t pay for its own photo-sessions – but Miller’s use of independent record pluggers makes it a match for the international companies, notwithstanding their heavy sales forces and so on.
Proof of the pudding is present hit ‘New Life’ charting the week it was released before amassing sales currently approaching 200,000. Although not furnished with the title, Miller is to all intents and purposes the band’s manager and is currently producing their debut album which, with expert timing, should be in the (right) shops by the end of next month.
“It’ll mainly consist of the songs we’ve been playing since we started plus a few new ones. No, I’m not going to give away the title or what the next single will be… Actually, we don’t know ourselves yet.”
A likely story. How about some dates? Any megatours in mind? I hear you’ve just got a deal with the same agents who book gigs for David Bowie and Adam & The Ants.
“We’re not like those rock’n’roll bands that play night after night. Y’know, I mean it’s just not us, really.”
This is true but what about the little robots all over the country who have put you where you are today. Don’t they deserve a live shot of the DPs?
“We’ll be playing some dates,” he concedes, “including some major European capitals,” adds Miller, sounding for all the world like the President of a multinational conglomerate.
A far cry from the choir, eh Martin?
“Oh, you get some good singing in church,” he replies, “why do you think I go?”
Hmmm, sounds like another A&R matter for Mute. On yer bike, Daniel.
[Record Mirror, 1st August 1981. Words: Mike Nicholls. Picture: Uncredited.]
ANGELS WITH SHINING FACES
There’s something very unusual about these lads. Not just the funny threads and lop-sided haircuts. It’s those faces: Stern, well-scrubbed, shiny, angelic, even. More like cherubs than boys in a band. Or choirboys.
“Andy and Vince both used to sing in church,” Martin reveals mischievously, “but then the devil got them. Very evil, the devil, you know,” he continues, much to his colleagues’ embarrassment.
But the best is yet to come. Depeche Mode is not the only combo Messrs Fletcher and Clarke have ever had in common. Nor their respective Christian church choirs. No, for five years they both played in the Boys’ Brigade!
Now in case you’re thinking you’ve never seen members of this worthy organisation marching up your high street doodling about on synthesisers, it ought to be pointed out that they haven’t always relied on these fascinating machines.
For the first half of their 14 month existence it was boring old guitar, bass and keys until one day Martin brought along a VC23 or something. “It didn’t take long for the others to follow suit. They’re a lot easier to lean to play from scratch than most other instruments,” the third twiddler admits.
“And portable too,” Dave (silicon) chips in. “We can fit all our gear into a few suitcases and drop ‘em into the boot of the car. No need for amplifiers, back-lines or anything.”
Dave Gahan was the last member to join the group. This comes as no surprise whatsoever since he’s most certainly the odd man out. Whereas the others tend to be guarded and reserved, the singer displays the kind of confidence you’d expect from someone who virtually talked his way into the band.
“Dave started jamming with us in rehearsals one day, so we asked him to join,” Martin recalls. “It wasn’t as if he was a total stranger. In fact we’ve all known each other since schooldays. It’s much better that way. You can’t possibly get on as well with newcomers who’ve been fixed up from adverts in the music press,” he declared baldly.
Must be more of a crack appearing on TOTP when you’re old pals. What do your mums think? Are they proud of their little boys?
“I try not to tell mine much,” the shy chap replies, “otherwise my mum just goes round bragging it to the butcher, the greengrocer… everybody!”
Parental fringe benefit, squire. Any more TV lined up?
“Yeah, we’re on ‘20th Century Box’, too. They’re doing a programme about the music scene round Basildon which is where we’re from.”
Now Basildon might not be renowned as a rock’n’roll epicentre but there’s a club where the quartet started attracting a lot of attention. Crocs is its name and Depeche Mode soon became the focal point of its burgeoning futurist knees-ups.
“We were the first band to play there,” claims Dave. “The resident DJ, Rusty Egan, liked us and so we then got a spot on one of the Thursday nights he was running at the Venue. Rusty’s my hero,” he confides.
Although still holding the affable innovator in high esteem, it is with a rather more low profile entrepreneur that Depeche Mode have decided to entrust their affairs. Daniel Miller, who charmed half a hemisphere (not to mention Grace Jones) with ‘Warm Leatherette’ owns their present record label, Mute, and the boys seem to want to keep it that way.
Mute might only be an indie – and one that can’t pay for its own photo-sessions – but Miller’s use of independent record pluggers makes it a match for the international companies, notwithstanding their heavy sales forces and so on.
Proof of the pudding is present hit ‘New Life’ charting the week it was released before amassing sales currently approaching 200,000. Although not furnished with the title, Miller is to all intents and purposes the band’s manager and is currently producing their debut album which, with expert timing, should be in the (right) shops by the end of next month.
“It’ll mainly consist of the songs we’ve been playing since we started plus a few new ones. No, I’m not going to give away the title or what the next single will be… Actually, we don’t know ourselves yet.”
A likely story. How about some dates? Any megatours in mind? I hear you’ve just got a deal with the same agents who book gigs for David Bowie and Adam & The Ants.
“We’re not like those rock’n’roll bands that play night after night. Y’know, I mean it’s just not us, really.”
This is true but what about the little robots all over the country who have put you where you are today. Don’t they deserve a live shot of the DPs?
“We’ll be playing some dates,” he concedes, “including some major European capitals,” adds Miller, sounding for all the world like the President of a multinational conglomerate.
A far cry from the choir, eh Martin?
“Oh, you get some good singing in church,” he replies, “why do you think I go?”
Hmmm, sounds like another A&R matter for Mute. On yer bike, Daniel.
