Live: Depeche Mode
[Record Mirror, 24th November 1984. Words: Eleanor Levy. Picture: Joe Shutter.]
The lesser spotted Gahan: a strange bird. Its mating cry of “Wooaargh” and strange ritual dances and twirls are expertly demonstrated as Depeche Mode breathe fresh life into the mausoleum known as Hammersmith Odeon. Gahan headbutts the air, showers the first five rows with sweat and the audience shout raucously in response. It’s the hips… it’s definitely the hips.
Never having seen Depeche Mode live, I realise I’ve been missing a whole different side to them. On record they have an air of musical maturity and lyrical innocence. Technically perfect, there’s a feeling of vulnerability which forms a major part of their wide appeal. Live, Depeche Mode are all this, with the added ingredient of FUN.
Dave Gahan is the moving part of the performance – only once is the centre stage taken from him as Martin Gore emerges to sing “Somebody”, hands clasped in front like a rubber coated choirboy. A popular lad is Martin. Cries for him are only matched by the rabid yells accompanying Dave’s rippling shoulder muscles during the second encore. Alan Wilder and Andrew Fletcher, meanwhile, remain resolutely behind their stacks of boxes, only emerging to milk the applause at the end.
It was a night of greatest hits and choice album cuts, with “Blasphemous Rumours” standing out for the use of lights and slides to accompany it and “Shout” and “Master And Servant” getting the perspiration rate up nicely.
Depeche Mode proved tonight that they have more energy than all the new breed of clean cut, white-teethed popsters could summon up in a year. You really should rehearse a third encore you know boys.
[Record Mirror, 24th November 1984. Words: Eleanor Levy. Picture: Joe Shutter.]
The lesser spotted Gahan: a strange bird. Its mating cry of “Wooaargh” and strange ritual dances and twirls are expertly demonstrated as Depeche Mode breathe fresh life into the mausoleum known as Hammersmith Odeon. Gahan headbutts the air, showers the first five rows with sweat and the audience shout raucously in response. It’s the hips… it’s definitely the hips.
Never having seen Depeche Mode live, I realise I’ve been missing a whole different side to them. On record they have an air of musical maturity and lyrical innocence. Technically perfect, there’s a feeling of vulnerability which forms a major part of their wide appeal. Live, Depeche Mode are all this, with the added ingredient of FUN.
Dave Gahan is the moving part of the performance – only once is the centre stage taken from him as Martin Gore emerges to sing “Somebody”, hands clasped in front like a rubber coated choirboy. A popular lad is Martin. Cries for him are only matched by the rabid yells accompanying Dave’s rippling shoulder muscles during the second encore. Alan Wilder and Andrew Fletcher, meanwhile, remain resolutely behind their stacks of boxes, only emerging to milk the applause at the end.
It was a night of greatest hits and choice album cuts, with “Blasphemous Rumours” standing out for the use of lights and slides to accompany it and “Shout” and “Master And Servant” getting the perspiration rate up nicely.
Depeche Mode proved tonight that they have more energy than all the new breed of clean cut, white-teethed popsters could summon up in a year. You really should rehearse a third encore you know boys.