On The Way
[Record Mirror, 26th September 1981. Words: Mike Nicholls. Picture: Uncredited.]
ON THE WAY
Dreaming of (fa)me? Then awake, ye brave souls, for your 15 minutes start now. It’s hardly been the roughest ride up the charts but then smart chaps always did know how to cut corners. A few months ago, unknown. A few singles and they’re stars. What’s it all about?
Well, sharpening simplicity to a fine art has got something to do with it. An engaging melody here, an irresistible pulsebeat there and a tightness beyond reproach. Short ’n’ sweet pop songs for the pre-teens. What madness are to the scallywags, the Modes have become to their more precocious pals – the aspiring poseurs who dream of getting a Saturday job to buy new clothes and perhaps a little synthesiser of their own. The techno-boppers of tomorrow as well as today.
And then some more. Tonight it’s another audience, the juniors having received instant recharge at the matinee. Amidst the committee or just plain curious older folks, the band look more lost than ever. Innocents abroad on an ocean of stage though they could have sold out the Hammersmith Odeon.
Are they ready for such success? Well, the growing pains are in evidence. Singer Dave Gahan is astonished by the girls grabbing kisses, blushes glowing through make-up in a contusion of near terror. Bet there are some pretty vampish visitors backstage, too!
Still, his voice holds out, even if it is rather too fashionably flat. At times he recalls the Ferry of yore but in a different context. You know the sort of thing – operating, generating, new life new life. Never did the words seem so appropriate. Churnin’, yearnin’, learnin’, burnin’ nostalgia’s rife, nostalgia’s rife. That’s true, too.
Behind David the synths and drum machines boil up a cauldron of rhythms and there’s not an anchored ankle in the house. This goes on for some time, through a lot of new material. Most of the songs stick to an unswervingly high standard, as strong as the hits and then some.
Three encores including a class Everly’s “Price Of Love” and the crowd still feel short-changed. Depeche Mode have arrived and without hype. Their eventual album will shoot straight into the Top 10. Meanwhile they’ll grow bigger and better even if those freshly-scrubbed faces do acquire a few lines in the process.
Just can’t get enough? You said it, boy.
[Record Mirror, 26th September 1981. Words: Mike Nicholls. Picture: Uncredited.]
ON THE WAY
Dreaming of (fa)me? Then awake, ye brave souls, for your 15 minutes start now. It’s hardly been the roughest ride up the charts but then smart chaps always did know how to cut corners. A few months ago, unknown. A few singles and they’re stars. What’s it all about?
Well, sharpening simplicity to a fine art has got something to do with it. An engaging melody here, an irresistible pulsebeat there and a tightness beyond reproach. Short ’n’ sweet pop songs for the pre-teens. What madness are to the scallywags, the Modes have become to their more precocious pals – the aspiring poseurs who dream of getting a Saturday job to buy new clothes and perhaps a little synthesiser of their own. The techno-boppers of tomorrow as well as today.
And then some more. Tonight it’s another audience, the juniors having received instant recharge at the matinee. Amidst the committee or just plain curious older folks, the band look more lost than ever. Innocents abroad on an ocean of stage though they could have sold out the Hammersmith Odeon.
Are they ready for such success? Well, the growing pains are in evidence. Singer Dave Gahan is astonished by the girls grabbing kisses, blushes glowing through make-up in a contusion of near terror. Bet there are some pretty vampish visitors backstage, too!
Still, his voice holds out, even if it is rather too fashionably flat. At times he recalls the Ferry of yore but in a different context. You know the sort of thing – operating, generating, new life new life. Never did the words seem so appropriate. Churnin’, yearnin’, learnin’, burnin’ nostalgia’s rife, nostalgia’s rife. That’s true, too.
Behind David the synths and drum machines boil up a cauldron of rhythms and there’s not an anchored ankle in the house. This goes on for some time, through a lot of new material. Most of the songs stick to an unswervingly high standard, as strong as the hits and then some.
Three encores including a class Everly’s “Price Of Love” and the crowd still feel short-changed. Depeche Mode have arrived and without hype. Their eventual album will shoot straight into the Top 10. Meanwhile they’ll grow bigger and better even if those freshly-scrubbed faces do acquire a few lines in the process.
Just can’t get enough? You said it, boy.