In memory of Andy Fletcher, founding member of Depeche Mode, who passed away just a few days ago, I have gone on another binge of my favorite band. Much to my wife's chagrin.
For some of us, DM is not just a musical act, but a quasi-spiritual tool for self development. I grew up with the band. They changed as I changed. As I went through my crises of adolescent horniness and darkness, dressing in black leather and trying to look sexy in all my non-existent pain because my favorite girlfriend didn't want to go out with me anymore, they were there slapping me on the back to tell me they understood where I was coming from. When I got older and experienced real joys and sorrows, they were right there with me. They were getting married when I did, and were having kids of their own when I did. Their politics and spirituality matured as I did. Dave Gahan got sober, and then so did I. They started talking about getting old in their interviews, about what it feels like to watch familiar things and people around you change and pass away, about not being able to trust your own body anymore, just when I was dealing with those same feelings as I was awakening to my own phase of middle age. I never met anyone from the band, but I felt I knew them very well. They were and are family.
Now musically, I have definitely been influenced by their work in deep ways. Their use of complex layered sampled sounds, metallic percussion, and accessible synth riffs with soulful baritone vocals remains very unique to this day, though often imitated. But Dave Thompson's 1994 book was the very first time I had read anything in depth about the band itself. I knew quite a bit just from being an avid listener and follower since the 80s, and when it came to the history and development of the band, Thompson's book did not offer much new for a mega-fan like me. But it did do quite a few things well.
The book came out during a time when DM had radically changed their sound. Innovation and change was nothing new to them. Each album brought something new to the table, from their "Composition of Sound" electro-disco during their Vince Clarke days, to the dark lullabies of "A Broken Frame," to the harsh but danceable industrial that was their staple until the Pink Floyd-influenced synth pop of "Violator" brought them into the status of Music Hall-of-Famers. But "Songs of Faith and Devotion" (1993) really gathered the public attention even among non-fans. Here was this pretty boy band with songs like "Enjoy the Silence" and "Policy of Truth," familiar cultural tunes that people expected to hear at high school proms, dance clubs, and cruise ships suddenly exploding on the radio with gritty, sleazy, grungy blues rock. Their classically trained pianist was now flailing at an intimidating drum set. The clean cut front man now looked like the leader of a Satanic cult. Not since the Beetles had rock culture taken such notice of a change in image. Thompson talks about this public reaction and the background behind the drastic image change. The focus is largely on the band's constant innovation, but also mentions where the band members were emotionally in their life journey at the time.
Other notable tidbits from the book included the relationship of the band with other notable music icons. There's an interesting aside featuring a tussle between Dave Gahan and Axle Rose involving a pig. And there is much discussion over how DM influenced other bands, whether directly or in reaction to their developed sound. I am sure Uncle Al was not thrilled to have Thompson remind readers of the very DM sound in the early days of Ministry.
The book is called "Some Great Reward" based off a key line in the song "Lie to Me," which features on the seminal industrial dance album also by the name "Some Great Reward." The book is now a bit outdated compared to the plethora of newer biographies and analyses of the band that have come out since. However, it is a nifty snapshot in time, capturing that period when the early 90s had not yet figured out it's identity for the decade, still clinging on to the hair metal and synth pop of the 80s before solidifying as the decade of Nirvana, crunchy three-chord guitars, homebrew beer, unwashed hair, and plaid lumberjack shirts. For those of you who are already fans of DM, I think you'll enjoy it.
If you are not familiar with DM, may I suggest that you give them a try. They have lots of studio albums, live performances, collaborative output, and solo projects. They are also the band that has probably been remixed the most, and in fact, they've always encouraged it. And as this book illustrates, they are one of the most innovative bands in history, so there is something in their work for everyone.
So let's celebrate the life and work of Fletch, one of my closest friends who I never met. Put your leather boots on, listen to some DM, play one of their songs on your home synthesizer, or read one of the books. You'll find a great reward.