Depeche Mode: Entertainment Centre
[Unknown publication, shortly after 12th March 1994. Words: Craig Mathieson. Picture: Tony Mott.]
ROCK’N’ROLL!
No, actually, Rock’N’F—king Roll!
Having graduated with honours from the rock god school, Dave Gahan bestrides the stage like a colossus from another age. He spins around with his mic stand like a dervish, stopping with the beat to thrust it above his head, bare torso covered with sweat. He struts across the stage, flinging the stand away as he heads for the legion of grasping hands trying to touch him. The man is a total visual.
Depeche Mode live is a strange, albeit enjoying [sic], experience. Out front there’s Gahan the rock legend, to his left Martin Gore still wears the most ridiculous outfits in popular music (silver gym boots, gold-plated shorts and singlet topped off with a matching pleated skirt and a blonde surfer cut), while playing guitar and keyboards, Alan Wilder with his studded shirt sits between drums and keyboards while chubby manager Andy Fletcher stands at his keyboards doing very little. [1]
And the incredible thing is it works wonderfully.
Blessed with a catalogue of memorable pop songs courtesy Gore, Depeche Mode have few slow points in their set – the one real go slow is when Gahan leaves the stage so Gore can sing a bracket of ballads – and work on the equation “hooks + Gahan outrageousness + great lights & sound = Big Fun”.
Recent tracks like I Feel You and Personal Jesus cross bred with older tunes like the opening Behind The Wheel and the industrial forebear, Everything Counts, result in stadium pop: larger than life but without the usual bombast and soloing (Gore played one five second guitar solo for the night). [2]
Of course, Gahan’s, er, how can you say…, mincing? did have its moments. His back tattooed a la Rollins, he certainly had a way with the trademark “Let me hear you / Let me see those hands” requests. But even when he grabbed his crotch during Never Let Me Down [Again], at the end of the “as long as I remember who’s wearing the trousers” line, it was amusing rather than laughable (but don’t tell Dave that).
Never Let Me Down highlights their alluring mix of melodrama and pop, spotlighting an arena rock show where nearly all the songs were of nameless girls with emotional problems that the narrator could not / would not help. Rarely has a concert been so feverish with fan excitement when the material is so bereft of gaiety.
But Depeche Mode know their gameplan. Two encores, ending with the simple but vastly boppy Question Of Time and the houselights are up and the band are off. Live they transcend any stigma of their early days and their current seeming mismatched image. They remain the most entertaining anomaly in live music.
[Unknown publication, shortly after 12th March 1994. Words: Craig Mathieson. Picture: Tony Mott.]
ROCK’N’ROLL!
No, actually, Rock’N’F—king Roll!
Having graduated with honours from the rock god school, Dave Gahan bestrides the stage like a colossus from another age. He spins around with his mic stand like a dervish, stopping with the beat to thrust it above his head, bare torso covered with sweat. He struts across the stage, flinging the stand away as he heads for the legion of grasping hands trying to touch him. The man is a total visual.
Depeche Mode live is a strange, albeit enjoying [sic], experience. Out front there’s Gahan the rock legend, to his left Martin Gore still wears the most ridiculous outfits in popular music (silver gym boots, gold-plated shorts and singlet topped off with a matching pleated skirt and a blonde surfer cut), while playing guitar and keyboards, Alan Wilder with his studded shirt sits between drums and keyboards while chubby manager Andy Fletcher stands at his keyboards doing very little. [1]
And the incredible thing is it works wonderfully.
Blessed with a catalogue of memorable pop songs courtesy Gore, Depeche Mode have few slow points in their set – the one real go slow is when Gahan leaves the stage so Gore can sing a bracket of ballads – and work on the equation “hooks + Gahan outrageousness + great lights & sound = Big Fun”.
Recent tracks like I Feel You and Personal Jesus cross bred with older tunes like the opening Behind The Wheel and the industrial forebear, Everything Counts, result in stadium pop: larger than life but without the usual bombast and soloing (Gore played one five second guitar solo for the night). [2]
Of course, Gahan’s, er, how can you say…, mincing? did have its moments. His back tattooed a la Rollins, he certainly had a way with the trademark “Let me hear you / Let me see those hands” requests. But even when he grabbed his crotch during Never Let Me Down [Again], at the end of the “as long as I remember who’s wearing the trousers” line, it was amusing rather than laughable (but don’t tell Dave that).
Never Let Me Down highlights their alluring mix of melodrama and pop, spotlighting an arena rock show where nearly all the songs were of nameless girls with emotional problems that the narrator could not / would not help. Rarely has a concert been so feverish with fan excitement when the material is so bereft of gaiety.
But Depeche Mode know their gameplan. Two encores, ending with the simple but vastly boppy Question Of Time and the houselights are up and the band are off. Live they transcend any stigma of their early days and their current seeming mismatched image. They remain the most entertaining anomaly in live music.