Another Rock Week At The ICA
[NME, 5th September 1981. Words Leyla Sanai. Picture David Corio.]
ANOTHER ROCK WEEK AT THE ICA
The second day of the ICA Rock week sees the immaculate combination of The Chefs, Tarzan 5 and Depeche Mode. The Chefs are high-grade Peelie pop, accessible, catchy, euphonic and slightly uninspiring, with a faultless if faintly languid cover of “Femme Fatale” to their credit. Tarzan 5 play exigent tribal rhythms and keep up an urgent beat pounding.
Two clean supports, but the anticipation is for chart cherubs Depeche Mode; they bring their happy synth pop to the ICA, and everyone dances. TOTP weenies’ first gig, new life for a night, and jolted instamatic photos for the inside of next term’s desk.
To lump together Depeche Mode with Duran / Visage / Spands and label the resulting package “Futurist” is convenient, conventional, conjectural, and a contravention of the truth; in short, a con. Birds of a feather they may seem, but while Duran and their ilk resemble avaricious magpies, cold eyes roving, darting, eager to pilfer glinting ideas, personal inspiration a no-go, sharp beaks prising their way into the nation’s hearts and bank books, Depeche Mode are inoffensive fledglings, wide-eyed and fluffy haired, experimenting, investigation, neither making pretentious usurpations, nor wallowing in superficial bliss, “getting more shags”…
Spands and Duran sport shop-bought panache – nip along to King’s Road, cash turns to dash in a flash. Their personal criteria are very different from Depeche Modes’ – Dagger and Strange yearn to be associated with words like ‘phenomenon’, ‘new cult’ and ‘self expression’ whereas Depeche have no objection to being mentioned in the same breath as Orange sorbet, Jackanory, and the pub down the road.
Depeche are danceable, electric, earnest and endearing, young, glowing and sweet, they’ve got more poise than pose, and they’re proud to appeal to all. Besides, they smile more.
[NME, 5th September 1981. Words Leyla Sanai. Picture David Corio.]
ANOTHER ROCK WEEK AT THE ICA
The second day of the ICA Rock week sees the immaculate combination of The Chefs, Tarzan 5 and Depeche Mode. The Chefs are high-grade Peelie pop, accessible, catchy, euphonic and slightly uninspiring, with a faultless if faintly languid cover of “Femme Fatale” to their credit. Tarzan 5 play exigent tribal rhythms and keep up an urgent beat pounding.
Two clean supports, but the anticipation is for chart cherubs Depeche Mode; they bring their happy synth pop to the ICA, and everyone dances. TOTP weenies’ first gig, new life for a night, and jolted instamatic photos for the inside of next term’s desk.
To lump together Depeche Mode with Duran / Visage / Spands and label the resulting package “Futurist” is convenient, conventional, conjectural, and a contravention of the truth; in short, a con. Birds of a feather they may seem, but while Duran and their ilk resemble avaricious magpies, cold eyes roving, darting, eager to pilfer glinting ideas, personal inspiration a no-go, sharp beaks prising their way into the nation’s hearts and bank books, Depeche Mode are inoffensive fledglings, wide-eyed and fluffy haired, experimenting, investigation, neither making pretentious usurpations, nor wallowing in superficial bliss, “getting more shags”…
Spands and Duran sport shop-bought panache – nip along to King’s Road, cash turns to dash in a flash. Their personal criteria are very different from Depeche Modes’ – Dagger and Strange yearn to be associated with words like ‘phenomenon’, ‘new cult’ and ‘self expression’ whereas Depeche have no objection to being mentioned in the same breath as Orange sorbet, Jackanory, and the pub down the road.
Depeche are danceable, electric, earnest and endearing, young, glowing and sweet, they’ve got more poise than pose, and they’re proud to appeal to all. Besides, they smile more.