Talking Hook Lines
[Melody Maker, 31st October 1981. Words: Paul Colbert. Picture: Uncredited.]
TALKING HOOK LINES
So obviously bright, so clearly sparkling with new life, it’s a wonder they don’t burn permanent dancing shadows onto the walls.
The joy of Depeche Mode is that there’s nothing in the way – no hidden thought or ulterior purpose, just an unobstructed route to the heart. Like the title says, they speak with a winning immediacy and to hear the words is to fall under the spell.
And it’s the feet that surrender first. This is an album that’s meant to be danced rather than played. If there’s one secret tactic to Depeche Mode warfare it’s that each phrase, every contribution, can be lifted and survive as a world of its own. No line is just a collection of notes, it also carries its own rhythm. Every song is its own drum. Put the parts together and the result is a wriggling giant of motovation, persuading each muscle to jump in time with the music.
They could have got it wrong. Lord knows it can’t have been easy. Sudden acclaim, scant experience then thrust unknowing into the studio for a debut album – they should by rights have made every mistake in the book. A miracle: they came out unscathed, stronger than ever. No fancy techno-messing, just the set, the show as it’s played, one favourite after another.
What embellishments they’ve added are purely thoughtful asides and “Speak And Spell” is thankfully free of synthesizer backwashes and seas of noise. Everything that makes it onto the arrangements is there for a reason.
And it lasts. When you throw so much of the weight in that first punch there’s a danger that what lies underneath may be exhausted, that beneath the icing of fun is a hollow space where the cake should be. Depeche Mode might just be one hit wonders or five play heroes whose attraction wanes when you go for that sixth listen and suddenly realise there’s nothing left to hear.
This album says no, they’ll stay, if only because “New Life” released in the summer, and “Just Can’t Get Enough” already an adult in the charts, sound as fresh and unflagging as every new number.
There’s the gleefully untroubled surface of “What’s Your Name” or the hard disco beat of “Boys Say Go”. The moody whisper of “Puppets” and the chattering instrumental “Big Muff”. Even further back goes “Photographic”, tautly sketched around octave-leaping bass lines and dark vocals.
But two important points. “Speak And Spell” is not stagnant, and neither is it perfect. On the first it would be wrong to assume Depeche Mode have unthinkingly etched a live concert onto vinyl. They’ve listened and been influenced. It hasn’t shaken the way of the music but the how, appearing as less archetypal synthesizer sounds (at moments shades of Yellow Magic Orchestra) or more daring harmonies – all signs of development.
At the same time “Speak And Spell” could have done with a little more breathing space. There are tracks, most noticeably “No Disco”, that repeat earlier thoughts and feels without adding fresh views. A slower race for release might have caught those flaws and substituted other songs.
Even so it’s a great album, the one they had to make to conquer fresh audiences and please the fans who just can’t get enough.
[Melody Maker, 31st October 1981. Words: Paul Colbert. Picture: Uncredited.]
TALKING HOOK LINES
So obviously bright, so clearly sparkling with new life, it’s a wonder they don’t burn permanent dancing shadows onto the walls.
The joy of Depeche Mode is that there’s nothing in the way – no hidden thought or ulterior purpose, just an unobstructed route to the heart. Like the title says, they speak with a winning immediacy and to hear the words is to fall under the spell.
And it’s the feet that surrender first. This is an album that’s meant to be danced rather than played. If there’s one secret tactic to Depeche Mode warfare it’s that each phrase, every contribution, can be lifted and survive as a world of its own. No line is just a collection of notes, it also carries its own rhythm. Every song is its own drum. Put the parts together and the result is a wriggling giant of motovation, persuading each muscle to jump in time with the music.
They could have got it wrong. Lord knows it can’t have been easy. Sudden acclaim, scant experience then thrust unknowing into the studio for a debut album – they should by rights have made every mistake in the book. A miracle: they came out unscathed, stronger than ever. No fancy techno-messing, just the set, the show as it’s played, one favourite after another.
What embellishments they’ve added are purely thoughtful asides and “Speak And Spell” is thankfully free of synthesizer backwashes and seas of noise. Everything that makes it onto the arrangements is there for a reason.
And it lasts. When you throw so much of the weight in that first punch there’s a danger that what lies underneath may be exhausted, that beneath the icing of fun is a hollow space where the cake should be. Depeche Mode might just be one hit wonders or five play heroes whose attraction wanes when you go for that sixth listen and suddenly realise there’s nothing left to hear.
This album says no, they’ll stay, if only because “New Life” released in the summer, and “Just Can’t Get Enough” already an adult in the charts, sound as fresh and unflagging as every new number.
There’s the gleefully untroubled surface of “What’s Your Name” or the hard disco beat of “Boys Say Go”. The moody whisper of “Puppets” and the chattering instrumental “Big Muff”. Even further back goes “Photographic”, tautly sketched around octave-leaping bass lines and dark vocals.
But two important points. “Speak And Spell” is not stagnant, and neither is it perfect. On the first it would be wrong to assume Depeche Mode have unthinkingly etched a live concert onto vinyl. They’ve listened and been influenced. It hasn’t shaken the way of the music but the how, appearing as less archetypal synthesizer sounds (at moments shades of Yellow Magic Orchestra) or more daring harmonies – all signs of development.
At the same time “Speak And Spell” could have done with a little more breathing space. There are tracks, most noticeably “No Disco”, that repeat earlier thoughts and feels without adding fresh views. A slower race for release might have caught those flaws and substituted other songs.
Even so it’s a great album, the one they had to make to conquer fresh audiences and please the fans who just can’t get enough.