Soft Sell
[Melody Maker, 6th October 1984. Words: Penny Kiley. Picture: Tom Sheehan.]
SOFT SELL
Depeche Mode
Empire, Liverpool
Destruction time again? Let’s hear it for the great misunderstood masters of ignored creativity.
If Depeche Mode think they should be taken more seriously, perhaps it’s not just their critics they should be worried about. And if they want to be listened to, perhaps they’re not in quite the right place tonight. The music starts and so do the screams, the whole theatre bouncing by the time the curtain rises on four ramps, three lots of keyboards, a tape recorder and one leather-clad hip-swiveller.
But their music doesn’t bounce these days – or, rather, doesn’t just bounce – and the signs say there’s something here that should be important. The stage set, an impressive design in fashionable grey, combines hi-tec metallics with occasional projections and dearly wants to say something about the music. But, if there’s any metal in the sound, it’s molten. There are no edges.
Whether the failure’s technical or artistic is hard to say – perhaps the screams are submerging the subtleties of the songs. For the most part, though, the music is no more than a subliminal accompaniment to the event: those hips, those screams, the hardware and the lights. Whether the music’s bubblegum, metal-bashing or ballads, the ‘event’ is simply pop and the strongest messages are visual.
The packaging of the LP, “Some Great Reward”, is an opposition of work and romance, real life and illusion. On stage, the packaging extends that opposition with the same quasi-industrial background and, out in front, pop stars. They beg reappraisal but they play the old hits.
Despite the 50/50 mix of boys and girls, it’s the gyratory aspect that seems most important to the audience and the responses soon become wearisome and predictable. The agile Dave Gahan plays to the audience with unremitting energy and every time those leather legs move in the slightest, the screams drown the music.
Depeche Mode are caught between two stools at the moment, unable to discover a means of presenting their serious aspirations, compared to The Thompson Twins, this is art but do Test Dept. instigate clap-alongs? On this stage there’s a choice of modes. At this stage, it’s a choice that will soon have to be made.
[Melody Maker, 6th October 1984. Words: Penny Kiley. Picture: Tom Sheehan.]
SOFT SELL
Depeche Mode
Empire, Liverpool
Destruction time again? Let’s hear it for the great misunderstood masters of ignored creativity.
If Depeche Mode think they should be taken more seriously, perhaps it’s not just their critics they should be worried about. And if they want to be listened to, perhaps they’re not in quite the right place tonight. The music starts and so do the screams, the whole theatre bouncing by the time the curtain rises on four ramps, three lots of keyboards, a tape recorder and one leather-clad hip-swiveller.
But their music doesn’t bounce these days – or, rather, doesn’t just bounce – and the signs say there’s something here that should be important. The stage set, an impressive design in fashionable grey, combines hi-tec metallics with occasional projections and dearly wants to say something about the music. But, if there’s any metal in the sound, it’s molten. There are no edges.
Whether the failure’s technical or artistic is hard to say – perhaps the screams are submerging the subtleties of the songs. For the most part, though, the music is no more than a subliminal accompaniment to the event: those hips, those screams, the hardware and the lights. Whether the music’s bubblegum, metal-bashing or ballads, the ‘event’ is simply pop and the strongest messages are visual.
The packaging of the LP, “Some Great Reward”, is an opposition of work and romance, real life and illusion. On stage, the packaging extends that opposition with the same quasi-industrial background and, out in front, pop stars. They beg reappraisal but they play the old hits.
Despite the 50/50 mix of boys and girls, it’s the gyratory aspect that seems most important to the audience and the responses soon become wearisome and predictable. The agile Dave Gahan plays to the audience with unremitting energy and every time those leather legs move in the slightest, the screams drown the music.
Depeche Mode are caught between two stools at the moment, unable to discover a means of presenting their serious aspirations, compared to The Thompson Twins, this is art but do Test Dept. instigate clap-alongs? On this stage there’s a choice of modes. At this stage, it’s a choice that will soon have to be made.