Depeche Mode in Concert – Copenhagen, 2006
A review by Marika L. Foltz

Depeche Mode revisited: A fan’s pilgrimage
What is it that drives us to do the most inexplicable, impetuous, and at times ridiculous-sounding things? How many 34-year-olds do you know who would pick up and fly 2,000 kilometers for a 3-day weekend to see a band perform? Maybe if they worked in the music industry or were musicians themselves, but I’m talking about your average teacher who just plain loves a band and can’t stand the thought of missing the opportunity to see them perform and having to wait another four years for such a thrill. I confess I am one of those rare individuals who, after 20 years of being a fan, is still going strong. I discovered Depeche Mode when I was just a freshman in high school, though I don’t remember who introduced me to them or exactly how their music first came into my hands. What I do know is that their music made such a strong impression on me that I have never since replaced them as my favorite band.

The first concert of theirs that I had the great fortune to attend (my first rock/pop concert, period) was at the Cow Palace in San Francisco in 1987, when I was just a “little 15”, like one of the song titles from the album they were debuting at the time: Music For the Masses (decidedly one of their best LP’s). Accompanied by my life-long and equally DM-enamored friend, and my father—the condition upon which I was allowed to attend this mega-event—it was without a doubt a religious experience of the sort you seldom if ever experience a second time. I got that kind of high that explains why the words “sex, drugs and rock and roll” have so often been spoken in the same breath. The intense energy of the pulsating music amidst a crowd of tens of thousands, coupled with the hormonal surges of a frenzied teenager, made it one of those peak experiences in my life, along with graduating from college and getting married. The proof that this “addiction” of mine is lasting is that, after almost 20 years, I have been to several more of their concerts, bought all of their albums, and am still capable of listening to their music for five straight hours on my multiple CD-player without tiring of it in the slightest.

This type of musical fanaticism is considered fairly normal in adolescence. However, when one turns 30, or maybe even earlier, it is assumed that one becomes something like a real “adult” and ought to have more serious concerns on her mind. This is not always the case, though. My fervor for music has recently undergone a sort of renaissance, as I have come to realize that I could not live happily without music, and that listening to music brings me so much pleasure that it really deserves a special place in my life. So when I found out that the Depeche Mode concerts were sold out in Spain (where I live), I got online to check where else I could possibly manage to attend a concert in their “Touring the Angel” tour, featuring their most recent album, Playing the Angel (2005). The tour’s slogan was “Pain and Suffering in Various Countries”, a play on the album’s motto, “Pain and Suffering in Various Tempos”. (Well, I thought it was clever, anyway).

So I googled “Depeche Mode Concert Dates”, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but the following: “Copenhagen, February 25th, 2006”. Carnival! A 4-day weekend! What could be better? So the only thing I had to do was to get my husband to succumb to my pleading, ignore my temporary insanity, and indulge this childish fantasy of mine. This turned out not to be too difficult a task, as he is always willing to travel and is usually happy to do anything within his power to please me. He was also curious what the land of the Vikings was like, as he affectionately calls Scandinavians (which sounds even funnier in Spanish, by the way: “Vikingos”). Not to mention that he likes Depeche Mode, too, though not as much as I do, it’s safe to say.

So, a winter jaunt to Scandinavia seemed just the thing we needed. An off-season getaway. Who cares if the temperatures in that part of the world rarely break freezing, or if daylight is as scarce as a four-leaf clover, or if there are no blossoming tulips or balmy days to visit Tivoli Gardens at that time of year? The important thing was to travel somewhere, and for me at least, to attempt to relive that teenage trance-like experience of years ago. What did we have to lose, anyway? Aside from a bundle of cash, that is. (The punchline is that after getting our tickets, they set three new concert dates in Spain for July. I could have killed them!!!)

So off we went, by train, plane and metro. Destination: Hotel du Nord, Copenhagen. (This is not meant as publicity, by the way—I was just trying to add a touch of reality). As expected, temperatures hovered around 32ºC by day and a few degrees lower at night, with a wind chill factor that probably brought it down quite a bit lower. But with our fleece insulated jackets and our caps, gloves and scarves in full gear, off we trekked to the Ryparken, an enormous football stadium (soccer to Americans) with a state-of-the-art roof that closes up when needed and a powerful heating system that supposedly heats the place to “room temperature”—according to one web-site we looked at—even when it’s as low as -7ºC outside. I hate to burst their bubble, but once inside, we could still see our breath, and our feet did not warm up for some 45 minutes or more. So much for room temperature! Nevertheless, as you would expect, after a few hours of 40,000-50,000 bodies jumping and swaying, the place did eventually warm up.

The concert was scheduled to start at 8pm, so of course, not wanting to miss out on any precious moments, we started off early. We were, however, not too confident that we wouldn’t get lost in the attempt. There was no chance of that, though. When we got off the bus, there were hordes of people all walking in the same direction—a definite clue, even for the observationally challenged like myself! After a quick hot dog stop outside the stadium (picture standing in the freezing cold and gobbling down this plastic-coated, mustard-drenched Danish delicacy, trying to finish before your nose starts to run—again), we braved the security line, which was, to our chagrin, not overly strict. In fact, we ended up kicking ourselves for not having dared to take either a camera or a mobile phone with built-in camera. Live and learn, right?

Having found our way to our scummy, orange, plastic seats, it was still only around 7:15 and most of the stadium floor was still empty. Even so, all sorts of interesting smells made their way to our frozen noses, an odd combination of everything smokable and beer that had not long since been spilled and stuck to the cement floor. To pass the time until the concert began, I set out to observe the other concertgoers, trying to decipher some common denominator or notable feature that could distinguish this lot of fans from any other group of living beings. Not an easy task, I assure you. I guess you could say that the average age was probably around 30. That put me right at ease. There’s nothing more unnerving than being in a crowd of teenyboppers and feeling decidedly past your prime. I was happy to see, though, that there were younger people, too. You don’t like to think of yourself as over the hill or outdated, either. These become sensitive points when you pass 30, you see. You don’t want to be accused of listening to “old fogey” music, a term I used to warmly use with my parents, but one whose warmth I’m not sure they ever appreciated fully.

So the crowds slowly started to roll in, as eclectic a bunch as they come. Some sported purposely-tacky sixties and seventies styles, others wore all black mod styles reminiscent of Robert Smith of the Cure at the height of his blackness. Then you had your athletic types, your executive types, your prom queen types, your jet black,10-inch-high mohawk types, your average Joe’s, your seductive Scandinavian beauties…you name it, they were there. So in answer to my earlier query, no, there is not a typical looking Depeche Mode fan. I think the two people next to me deserve special mention, though. My best guess would be that this bleached blond teenage girl was there with her father, highly reminiscent of my first concert experience. He looked bored most of the time (except for the leg bouncing that occasionally got the better of him), and she looked humiliated to be sitting there next to her dad, but still happy she had been allowed to come, in a meek sort of way. I thought how lucky I had been that my dad had been so cool as to let my friend and me be alone while he sat several rows back, unobtrusively. Not like anything could have ruined the experience, but it was still a meaningful gesture on his part, especially at that age when being seen with one’s parents in public is so mortifying.

The clock struck 8 o’clock, the lights dimmed, and for a split second I thought Dave, Martin and Fletch were going to come running out onto the stage. (As you can see, we go way back, so we’re even on a first name basis!). No such luck. It was the opening act, which, as opening acts go, wasn’t bad. It was a band called “The Bravery” from NYC, reminiscent of the Cure and a little of a newer band called Vast. Definitely rock, though, not pop, and a far cry from the dark, synthesized pop Depeche Mode is famous for. The lead singer was very hip indeed in his shamrock green argyle sweater (you have to be hip to get away with wearing that!) and the others just sort of thrashed away while he sang and did some curious antics with the mic stand and even fell (or threw himself?) to the floor at one point. Unfortunately, I only heard about this latter incident, since I had gone to take an obligatory pit stop before the real show began, not wanting to miss a single song once DM were on stage.

After about 25 minutes, the opening band said their goodbyes, thanked Depeche Mode for having them, the lights came on again, and the technicians started setting up for the next act while tension mounted and the stadium continued to fill up with beer guzzling Danes and Swedes. (The neighboring Swedish city of Malmö, the third largest in Sweden, is just across a bridge from Copenhagen and is much closer to the Danish capital than it is to Gothenberg, the Swedish city where DM would soon be performing, so we figured a good number of the concert-goers were from there). I should point out that beer was being sold in 5-pack cardboard holsters, each pint-sized cup precariously suspended side by side with no lids and carried onto the stadium floor while people vied for their spots as close as possible to the stage. You have to remember that Copenhagen is a proud beer-producing city, home to both Carlsberg and Tuborg, the latter of which was one of the main sponsors that night and was clearly making a killing. I wondered if beer had existed back in the time of the Vikings, and if so, if they had drunk as much of it as their present-day descendants do.

For the next half hour, our nervous energy continued to rise while the opening band’s set was taken down (including a large screen lowered from mid air) and the new set was assembled. With the lights blaring again, no doubt to allow the crew to get their job done right, and instrumental synthesized music in the background to transition from the previous style to what was to come, we waited anxiously and watched as the stadium continued to fill up to capacity. The decor this time round consisted of a complex, futuristic set. On stage, there were two silvery metallic-colored inner tube-like rings to cleverly disguise the synthesizers and for the keyboardists to stand behind, one placed just right of mid stage, and the other one further back at stage left, to the right of the drums. These silver donuts had little holes all around the sides to project colored lights toward the audience. Toward the back and left of the stage (the side we were sitting on), was a large silver sphere with small, horizontal, rectangular screens, apparently to project words and messages during the performance. Behind the stage against the back wall was a collage made up of 5 asymmetrical, different sized screens, and there were two large screens suspended high up in front of either side of the stage, each tilted in a different direction. As if this weren’t enough, there were two hanging apparatuses (for lack of a better word) even higher up above the set which would later produce flashing colored lights that descended at key moments, looking something like a cross between Christmas lights and a 4th of July fireworks display.

Finally, at the strike of 9 o’clock, the lights went down and the somewhat jarring music resembling an ambulance siren that ushers in the beginning of their most recent album echoed through the now packed sports arena. It was clear that the long awaited moment had arrived. Dave, Martin, and Fletch, along with two newcomers—a second keyboardist and a drummer—bounded on stage and took their places as the fun began!

They chose the upbeat first two songs from their most recent album, Playing the Angel, called A Pain that I’m Used To and John the Revelator, to start off with. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought they were just going to run through the album as is, but as I had glanced at their web page and seen the programmed set list, I knew this was not the case. The third song took us back twenty years to a track from one of their all-time greatest albums, Black Celebration (’86), called A Question of Time. For true Depeche Mode fans, of which I imagine there were quite a few there that night, this really got the ball rolling. The link between their present style, dark and intense, and their seductive, melancholy music from the mid-eighties, brought it all together. The show was under way!

Dave Gahan, the lead singer and a master showman, wore close-fitting black pants and a black shirt with an off-white sporty suit jacket (left unbuttoned) which he would later change for a black one (whether this was on purpose or due to a problem at the cleaners, we’ll never know). He had on dark eye make-up which was clearly visible in the close-ups on the overhead screens, and sported a slightly unshaven look which added to his natural charisma (read: sex appeal). He wore his jet-black hair short, and slicked it back with his hands and occasionally a black towel as it got drenched in sweat during the course of the show. He danced around with the mic stand similar to the way the lead singer of The Bravery had done, but obviously more accustomed to this act of showmanship after a quarter century of touring. Showing off his svelte figure at 40-something (but who’s counting?), Dave offered plenty of gyrations and twirling, occasionally strutting out onto a long catwalk that extended from the stage far into the ocean of onlookers, clearly enjoying being the center of attention. He shouted to the audience, revving them up like a purring engine, and let out a number of deep, guttural screams, a new and unfamiliar style I did not remember in him from previous concerts. His voice was deep, penetrating, and clear, with only the slightest hint of roughness at times that comes from months of touring and lack of R & R (“rest and relaxation” for those who may not be familiar with the term), but not disappointing in the slightest. This was clearly not a man whose career was anywhere near its end! After his better-forgotten “in-between years”, as their song Clean so poignantly calls them, he’s clearly back on track and serious about his music career, and hasn’t lost one iota of his stage presence.

By far the most enigmatic component of the group is the songwriter and guitarist, Martin Gore. Even knowing of his reputed eccentricity, his stage attire took me aback. He was wearing all black clothes (nothing surprising about that) and a black feathery helmet and small feather wings strapped onto his back, possibly intending to imitate the “feather man” on the front cover of their album Playing the Angel, or maybe in reference to the fact that it was carnival weekend. He was holding a white, star-shaped electric guitar—his favorite one—which added to his charming quirkiness. He had on black eyeliner and blue eye shadow, probably intended to accentuate his ice-blue eyes, and wore very visible silver glitter on his cheekbones, which made him look in the screen close-ups as if he had been crying. It’s hard to know if that was intentional or not, but it seemed appropriate given the melancholy sound and lyrics of so many of his songs. Perhaps the most memorable moment of the entire concert, for me at least, was during his solo rendition of Home, when he finally took off the black helmet to reveal his usual unruly head of blond curls as he sang out, “And I thank you for bringing me here, for showing me home, for singing these tears, finally I’ve found that I belong here!” The look on his face was so endearing, a man so emotional and so pleased to be appreciated for his long career by the admiring crowd, that it brought a lump to my throat. He is no gyrating crowd-pleaser like Gahan, but has his own depth of character that touches his fans’ very souls. Martin’s voice is much softer than Dave’s, but also rich and full, and he usually sings the slower, more melodic songs at concerts. He sang three solos that night, Home, Damaged People, and an acoustic version of Shake the Disease (one of his personal favorites) with only a keyboard to accompany him, as well as a duet with Dave as the final act of the night (Goodnight Lovers). On this night, February 25th, 2006, his voice was crystal clear, 100% in tune, moving and emotional to the core. I stood mesmerized and in awe of this man’s talent and presence. Clearly, he was, and is, the heart of the band.

As far as the other band members go, there’s not much to say. Andy Fletcher, the other long-standing band member, stood high amidst the silver inner tube at right stage, playing the keyboard and occasionally raising a hand, calling out or collaborating on the vocals. But he was, for the most part, as usual, a discrete part of the band, the self-proclaimed accountant and group manager with little involvement in the music or performing. He has been, nevertheless, a familiar face and an integral part of the group for over two decades. The second keyboardist and the drummer were surprises, at least for me. Since the loss of band member Alan Wilder after their Devotional Tour (circa 1994), who had played a key role in creating their characteristic sound, they have had to fend for themselves and have obviously found help in the way of additional musicians. Years back, in their earlier concerts, I don’t remember them having drummers—only synthesizers. But as their career has progressed, they have added new elements to their music and have done a great job of mixing synthesized with more conventional music without compromising the unique, alternative, gothic synth pop sound that sets them apart from all other bands I know.

Of the songs they graced us with in the 130 minutes that the concert lasted (including two encore performances), their latest album (Playing the Angel, ‘05) predominated. They played seven tracks from this LP, including the dark and marvellously sinister The Sinner in Me, the recent hit Precious, and two songs written by Dave Gahan, Suffer Well and I Want it All. This was Dave’s first time composing for Depeche Mode, although he did come out with a debut solo album in 2003, called Paper Monsters. I would have loved to hear the third song he wrote for this album, called Nothing’s Impossible, my personal favorite of the three (and one of the best tracks on the LP), but alas, I’ll have to wait for their next concert tour and keep my fingers crossed! They also performed four songs from Violator (’91)—their best selling album to date—including Policy of Truth, World in My Eyes (with Dave caressing the mic stand while crooning, “ let my body do the moving, let my hands do the soothing…”), and Enjoy the Silence to end the pre-encore performance. They didn’t play more than two songs from any other album; with a 25-year career under their belts and a dozen albums, they had a lot to pick and choose from. Probably the biggest crowd-pleasers that night were their best-known and most covered song of all times, Personal Jesus, and their very first techno dance-club hit from way back in 1981, Just Can’t Get Enough (neither of which are my personal favorites, but there’s no accounting for taste! I must say I was pleased to be spared the old hit People are People…a very wise choice in my book). From Music For the Masses (’87), I was thrilled to hear Behind the Wheel and Never Let Me Down Again, both deeply reminiscent of that first concert back in ’87. From their album Songs of Faith and Devotion (’94), they chose a seductive I Feel You and Walking in My Shoes, the two first songs on that LP. And representing Ultra (’97) was Martin Gore’s tender rendition of Home, mentioned earlier. They ended the first encore performance with an oldie but goodie, Everything Counts, one that they have traditionally used to end concerts with by having the audience sing along with swaying hands (“The grabbing hands grab all they can, everything counts in large amounts...”). And as I said earlier, the final song of the night was a duet of Goodnight Lovers, from their Exciter LP (’01). Overall I’d say they did a superb job of choosing a little something for anyone who likes their music, offering a good balance between old and new, fast and slow, sweet, sad and sensual tunes.

So with a melange of DM music spanning 25 years of well-loved and much listened to tunes, you can imagine the ethereal state I was in. We’re talking dream-like, surreal, sheer pleasure here. When I looked over at my husband around half way through the show, he had a sweet grin on his face like a kid who’s just been given a new toy. I was happy to see he was enjoying himself, too. He’d been with me to the last concert in ’01 on their Exciter tour when we were visiting my family in California, and he had not been overwhelmingly impressed then, so I was glad he wasn’t disappointed this time, especially after trekking 2000 kilometers to get there! What made a huge difference between the two concert experiences—and I have to agree that this one was at least a hundred times better—was in part the place, and in part the crowd. The Concord Pavilion in suburban California would be a great place for an outdoor reggae festival or something like that, but with poor acoustics and a sprawling layout, it’s just not conducive to concert mania, if you see what I mean. Also, it must be said that the Danes and Swedes are truly party animals (did I mention that already?) and that the sheer magnitude of the Ryparken stadium and the tens of thousands of bodies huddled down on the main floor and swaying together drunkenly made for a really wild and captivating ambiance, not to mention the superior acoustics, stage setting, and the generally agreed-upon fact that this album is much better than the last one.

One aspect of the concert that cannot be left undescribed is the visual extras that I alluded to earlier. Anton Corbijn has been in charge of Depeche Mode’s artistic design for something like the last twenty years, and although he has what seems to me at times to be gaudy taste (especially apparent in some of their music videos and on the most recent album cover), this time round I must applaud him on his originality and tastefulness in the set design. Far from distracting or detracting from the performance, the visual aids set off the content of the music brilliantly and were a pleasure for the senses. The messages projected in the small screens in the sphere were a prime example. At the onset of the performance, before you could even see the band members on stage, the sphere announced the start of the night’s spectacle with a friendly “Hello”, and at the end of the concert it said “Goodbye”. Simple but sweet. During Martin’s solo of Home, the word home was projected in a dozen or more languages, which seemed like a nice touch in the global age we live in. During The Sinner in Me, words and phrases like pain or the beast inside scrambled across the screens, giving additional insight into the songwriter’s intended meaning, not merely repeating words from the already familiar song lyrics. And probably the most heart-wrenching and significant words that night came at us during Everything Counts: “The loss of one is a tragedy. The loss of a thousand is just a statistic”. Ouch.

Without a doubt the most memorable use for the large overhead screens was during the song I Feel You, one of their most blatantly sexual in recent years. The sphere stopped spewing words to ensure that all eyes would remain fixed on an image of a young blonde woman with two braids, either a mature version of Heidi or just your average Scandinavian beauty. Looking straight into the camera, she began to put on black eyeliner very slowly and meticulously, with a penetrating look that made you wonder what was to come. Meanwhile, Dave belted out the sensual refrain, “this is the morning of our love, it’s just the dawning of our love…”. After that, she lay down on her side, still facing the camera immodestly, and now you could see that she was wearing red lace lingerie, but one of her breasts had been left bare as she lay there seductively, totally at ease, staring right at the tens of thousands who were staring back. She was definitely a temptress. One may ask if this kind of soft porn or male fantasy material was really necessary. Well, maybe not. But on the other hand, with sex being one of Martin Gore’s favorite topics to write about, you might as well make it overt at some point, and what’s the big deal about a little nudity anyway? Personally, I thought it broke up the concert nicely by adding some original visuals to what would otherwise have been mainly an auditory experience, making it a true smorgasbord for the senses.

As the old saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And so did that night’s show. The ending was as sweet and memorable as they come, though. The duet I’ve alluded to more than once already, of Goodnight Lovers, had both Dave and Martin out on the catwalk alternating between Dave’s forceful, penetrating voice and Martin’s clear, soft croon, like two birds in nearby nests calling out to one another. At the very end, after two hours and ten minutes on stage, more than four months touring, and twenty-five years of working together, as they sang out the closing line, “…like all soul sisters and soul brothers”, Dave put a brotherly arm around Martin and gave him a kiss on the cheek and the most endearing look, as if to say, “we’ve come this far together, brother, and we can go on for a million more miles if need be”. It was wonderful to see that after so many trials and tribulations, they’ve managed to stay close, or perhaps to recover some of the confidence lost during those darker years, which we won’t go into now. Let’s instead let bygones be bygones and look forward to a long and fruitful musical future for these three lads from Basildon. I thank them wholeheartedly for making the kind of music that inspires, and congratulate them on a quarter century of brilliance. Kudos to them all. And may they keep up the good work! Their fans are counting on it.

A note from the author: I would very much like to receive feedback about this article, so I welcome your e-mails. I apologize if there are any factual errors herein. Although I tried to be true to the facts as I know them to be, this was basically written from the heart rather than the head. I would like to give special thanks to five individuals who have made this article possible. To my parents, Fran and Gary, for allowing me to go to that first concert so many years ago, and for chaperoning; without that experience, I might never have become such a devoted DM fan. They’ve also been great role-models and taught me the importance of diligence, creativity, and open-mindedness, for which I am eternally grateful. To my lifelong friend, Rosie, for sharing in my enthusiasm for DM, and for being like the sister I never had. I also want to thank my husband, Rafa, for humoring me and being willing to go all the way to Denmark on a cold weekend in winter to make this dream happen, and for always putting me first. And last but not least, I want to express my gratitude to my friend and former student, Alex, for giving me the idea to write this in the first place, and for helping to rekindle my old fervor for music. Thanks to you all!
Marika L. Foltz

Depeche Mode in concert “Touring the Angel” February 25th, 2006 Copenhagen, Denmark
SETLIST #5
Intro
A Pain That I'm Used To
John The Revelator
A Question Of Time
Policy Of Truth
Precious
Walking In My Shoes
Suffer Well
Damaged People (Martin G.)
Home (Martin G.)
I Want It All
The Sinner In Me
I Feel You
Behind The Wheel
World In My Eyes
Personal Jesus
Enjoy The Silence
*encore #1
Shake The Disease (Martin G.)
Just Can't Get Enough
Everything Counts
*encore #2
Never Let Me Down Again
Goodnight Lovers (Dave G. and Martin G.)