Consequential Lyrics #3: Depeche Mode

There are a great many Depeche Mode songs that I love, but I have always been impressed with the lyrics of Shake the Disease. The chorus is ironic and beautiful and brilliant because it perfectly articulates how difficult it is to articulate: you know how hard it is for me to shake the disease that takes hold of my tongue in situations like these? I really love that about the words of Martin Gore. Not only does he express intensely private sentiments, he acknowledges how difficult it is to do so. He knows it's hard to make sense of the head and the heart. He's well-acquainted with the terror that comes with vulnerability.

It's only since I've been asking friends to contribute to the fan episode of Consequential Lyrics that I've realised how difficult it is for some people to express their feelings. Perhaps it's a ridiculous point to make, but it's one that has struck me in the process of carrying out this project. I thought it would be easy to reel something off, after all, we're so naturally inclined to identify with pop lyricism. As friends, we constantly have conversations where we discuss the meanings behind the lyrics that sting us. Yet there seems to be this curious emotional reaction to the task of committing such meanings to record and it's not a reaction I entirely understand, but then again, this is something I do for fun.

It was only tonight when I was talking to one friend about the prospect of keeping a diary. She said: "I don't write because I fear what might come out." It was a beautiful moment of insight and one that really made me think about the nature of lyricism and personal identification. I loved Depeche Mode songs like Somebody and Shake the Disease because they managed to express what was to me, the inexpressible. Perhaps you could say that I saved myself the effort and the emotional discomfort of having to express what I really felt. Then again, I would argue that I merely enhanced my understanding of the situation by relating to these lyrics.

"Words are very unnecessary": Violator Art Prints
I won't deny the fact that my fascination with Depeche Mode at the age of 15 had much to do with that startling thematic coincidence that many of these songs were about an older man crushing on a 15-year-old girl. These lyrics included aspirational details like night-time drives and antagonistic flirtation. It was important that they came to be associated with their own sexy breed of Dark Romance™. Yet what was interesting about the re-investigation of these songs was that I realised that Depeche Mode was not just about darkness or romance (or drugs or S&M, for that matter). I see now that Martin Gore wrote most passionately about that desire to express and to connect.

I find it amusing that it should come back to that idea of expression, but I suppose I should have known all along. My favourite Depeche Mode lyric is contained in the song, Here is the House: With or without words, I'll confide everything... It's only seven words but it's an intensely gratifying sentiment, suggesting that regardless of your capacity or your willingness to express "the truth", what you actually mean will be apparent. That is a comfort to both the shy and the gregarious, for while I'm not particularly scared of saying something, I'm scared of not saying something correctly. I want to honour my feelings as accurately as possible and perhaps that why I align myself with Martin Gore as I do. It's one thing to articulate it, it's another thing to articulate it correctly.

Consequential Lyrics #3: Depeche Mode
See You
Here is the House
Shake the Disease
Somebody
But Not Tonight
Never Let Me Down Again
Walking in my Shoes
Blasphemous Rumours

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It's the only cassette we've been playing in the car for some time now. It's a special cassette, in that a facsimile copy of it exists on MiniDisc. It's also special, in that it has survived what could only be described as "chocolate-powder damage", sustained from residing at the bottom of my navy blue school-bag.

It's the tenth year anniversary of this cassette, El's Formal Tape and although I cringe when I am reminded of the unbelievable hype that accompanied this event, I cannot help but feel slightly warmed by the memory of its construction. After all, it was all done at the request of my date, TAFKATC, who insisted it was my task for the evening.

It was an exceedingly important task, preparing a selection of songs for that 15-minute car ride together. On the scarce occasions when we did speak, we only ever bonded over 1980s synth pop... but they were terribly significant conversations and I had the tendency to retain them, as I had the tendency to retain everything.

Again, both myself and my best friend, Missy Laur had to deal with this problem, this scarcity of time issue that tended to pervade every aspect of this absurd (and thoroughly implausible) partnership. Missy Laur and I whinced and made endless lists. We aggressively crossed out song names and with every strike-through came three new "consequential additions". It was a list that was impossible to cull.

Perhaps if the car-ride had been 1,115 minutes long instead of 15, I could have included all the songs TAFKATC was responsible for. All that New Order, Erasure, Depeche Mode, The Smiths and The Cure. But this was my task and my challenge. It was an ordeal to deal with the technological restraints of his feeble MiniDisc and my rickety 90-minute cassette, but I loved it. I would have made more: The Formal Mixes - Volumes 1 to 250.

But now when I drive and listen to this cassette, I am baffled by some of my song choices. Paul Van Dyk's For an Angel? Basement Jaxx's Bingo Bango? Really? Some other song inclusions make more sense, such as the brilliant New Order megamix and Erasure's I Love Saturday from their 1994 album, I Say, I Say, I Say.

It was TAFKATC's objection to the degenerated sound quality of I Love Saturday that sticks out most in my memory of that whole car-ride. You see, Missy Laur and I had dubbed that song from my mix-tape to her mix-tape to my mix-tape (and so forth). It was emblematic, it somehow signified the love and reverence both she and I shared for this song.

Perhaps I was naive in thinking that this kind of connection could have existed for both him and I? Was I mad in imagining such a thing?


Nothing in this world can touch the music that I heard...
If only I could have imagined what would follow, some ten years later. TAFKATC sent me an email with the subject line, FAC, requesting my company to see New Order at Festival Hall. My 15 minutes had been extended to a full 90 minute set and I couldn't help but giggle as we sent texts to each other, dreaming of what songs they should play (and what cover band we'd inevitably form when Barney fails to meet our expectations).

I tend to let my memories slip by when I think of TAFKATC. I am far too embarrassed to acknowledge the youthful flirtatiousness I once had... but then I can't help but feel it still when he looks at me, when he entertains my musings. I don't care to ever forget the moment before the band even started, when he handed me his plastic cup of beer to sip: "You're still 17." He smiled. I could hardly disguise my grin in response. "I'll always be 17."

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Funk & Soul Podcast #41
Munk - Kick out the Chairs
Clairy Browne & The Bangin' Rackettes - Love Letter
Billy Paul - Am I Black Enough For You
John Legend - Used To Love U
India Arie - Video
Colonel Abrams - Trapped
Stevie Wonder - Part-Time Lover
Frankie Lymon & the Teenagers - Why Do Fools Fall In Love?

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I was 13 when it was brought to my attention that I had particularly "gay" taste in music. We were in Health class at the time, Hannah and I were discussing Freddie Mercury in distressingly minute detail when our teacher overheard us talking. She approached us and openly scoffed, promptly announcing to the class that Queen were a "gay band" and to like them was to "be gay". I was overwrought with such bigotry and with heated cheeks, I spluttered a clumsily-constructed argument: "I love Freddie's songs, I love his voice. I don't see how that makes me gay, how does that make anyone gay? What does musical taste have to do with sexual orientation?" My Health teacher remained incredulous and unconvinced. Even though many years have passed since then, I continue to be intrigued by that confrontation. I am still trying to figure out what relationship, if any, exists between musical taste and sexuality.

Assigning a sexual orientation to song, band or musical movement has always seemed to be offensive to my sensibilities. This became relevant when I developed a particularly intense affinity with synthpop, some ten years ago. I knew that others had associated synthpop with gay subculture, namely due to its heavy reliance upon exaggerated aesthetics, flamboyant imagery and camp extravagance. It was something clearly identifiable in the cross-dressing shenanigans of Erasure's clip Take A Chance On Me. Even still, I didn't see how my love for this genre had any relevance to my being a straight fourteen year old girl. I could listen to songs like Erasure's I Love Saturday, the Pet Shop Boys' Tonight is Forever or Depeche Mode's See You and still strongly identify with the romance of these lyrics. To me, it is the ambiguous treatment of pronouns that makes the lyrics in synthpop so intensely relateable. Particularly in the earlier work of these artists, there is rare mention any gender specifically. There are simply universal notions of sublime love and affection.

This issue takes on a fascinating dimension when purportedly "straight" indie bands borrow from imagery from a gay context. The Smiths, in particular, employed feminine imagery in their live stage show, where Morrissey would sport a woman's blouse and stuff gladioli flowers in his back pocket (if you could ever imagine it). The illusion was further enhanced by Morrissey's aggressively emphatic claims to asexuality in the British musical press. Brett Anderson of Suede would similarly flirt with notions of sexual ambiguity, from the suggestive "have you ever tried it that way?" in Pantomime Horse to the more provocative proclamation "I suppose I'm a bisexual who has never had a homosexual experience". The British musical press, again, sought to obsessively clarify and re-clarify the exact nature of Brett's sexual inclination. They wanted to know exactly what he meant by that, why? Why was it relevant or even necessary to dissect the sexual appetites of Morrissey, Brett Anderson or even David Bowie or Brian Molko? Is this knowledge really necessary in assessing how we engage with their persona? Does it make us feel any differently about their music?

That what we would traditionally label as "indie" continues to have a taste of sexual subversion, but these days it is far more subtle. It is present in the suggestive lyrics of Michael by Franz Ferdinand or in the clip of the Strokes song Juicebox, but such imagery is rarely controversial. Contemporary indie capitalises upon the unacknowledged truth of taste: that the most refined form of sexual attractiveness is the adoption of physical attributes from the opposite sex. Indie musicians adopt feminine attributes in private, they apply eyeliner, put on skinny girls' jeans and use expensive hair straighteners. The feminine influence is far from overt, but it is detectable. Sometimes it even gets to a point where androgyny becomes so latent in a musician's appearance that you begin to think that there isn't the intensely insidious breed of homophobia, that maybe there is no relationship between musical taste and sexuality. But then you see instances of Kele Okereke, having to account for the meaning and sexual intent of every Bloc Party song and then you realise that people still care, people will always care. Because as much as you want to detach musical taste and sexuality, they will always be inextricably linked.


So on that note, I leave you with today's podcast, Electro Podcast #15. I would be interested to hear your views on this topic, so be sure to write me a comment.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #15
Robyn - Cobrastyle
Hot Chip - Arrest Yourself
Frankmusik - Confusion Girl (Don Diablo Loves To Slowdance Mix)
Pet Shop Boys - Email
Erasure - When I Needed You (Melancholic Mix)
New Kids on the Block - Hold On
Milli Vanilli - Is It Love?
Sliimy - Wake Up

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When I stop talking for a little while, I am usually thinking about London. I am usually thinking about a particular spot in Camden or the fake Roman antiquities in the Victoria and Albert Museum. I am usually thinking about dancing til my legs ache at some random indie club in Soho.. or else I am thinking about the colour of the morning sky on the bus ride back to Seven Sisters.

Sometimes I think about how I rushed about to get a last minute ticket to New Order in Hyde Park. It was where we first met, standing next to each other, watching the Psychedelic Furs. I had asked to see his program. It was very new-fangled in that it was laminated like a backstage pass. You see, I was lost - there were no freely available programs.

We spent the whole day together, walking in a muddied field, engaged in deep conversation. We talked about musical interests that (we believed) precious few shared. I so vividly remember how he described the significance of the Pet Shop Boys' This Must Be The Place I've Waited Years To Leave. I have no doubt in my mind that I told him of my profound love of Erasure's album The Innocents. We laughed and gushed, walking from tent to tent, stage to stage, talking about his musical writing and my radio fumbling. He was very obliging in letting me watch all the bands I'd wished to see that day: Battle, Graham Coxon, Fischerspooner and the Dears.

We were muddied and drenched when New Order started playing, yet it was perfect. I couldn't have imagined a circumstance like it. There were moments in New Order's set, their cadences, drum beats, lyrics and hooks that resonated so strongly. It seemed so terribly apt yet so wholly unexpected when they played Run Wild. I couldn't believe I was there.

We organised to meet up late Monday night, four days later. I remember him waiting outside the fake Marquee Club in Leicester Square. I was late of course. We had originally planned to go to a New Romantic club night in Oxford Circus. However, no real event really eventuated that night. Yet, somehow it was one of the most exciting nights of my life. Andrew, Gaby, He and I sat on the edge of the Piccadilly Circus fountain, sitting, talking and laughing all night long. It must have been one or two o'clock in the morning when we started to walk in circles around the center of London. From Piccadilly Circus to Soho to Oxford Circus, back to Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square to Trafalgar Square... and then back again. I remember the precise moment when I wished for him to hold my hand, he was speaking about London by the Smiths. I don't ever think I'd ever felt as much relief as when he did.

It seems like a totally mythical scenario, in retrospect. It was just like any of the songs we talked about: Tonight is Forever by the Pet Shop Boys, There is a Light That Never Goes Out by the Smiths, But Not Tonight by Depeche Mode. Nowadays, the memory seems to live in that strictly musical realm, that farfetched realm, that thoroughly perfect realm. Sometimes I have to stop talking for a little while longer to wonder if it really happened at all.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #12
Röyksopp - Happy Up Here
Pet Shop Boys - Love etc
Danger - 11h30
Whitest Boy Alive - Gravity
Hercules in NY - Deadweight
Dr Baker - Kaos (from Budbrain Megademo I)
Bitmap Brothers - Gods
Bomb the Bass - Megablast (from Xenon II)

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I remember sitting on the front steps of this guy's Art Deco styled, Grey Street apartment. We sat waiting for a taxi together, waiting to get to this party at the Public Offices. I had waited months, years, maybe even decades to be sitting next to this person, waiting for this party. Yet no matter how long I waited, I would still be far too young. Of course, I was in denial of this fact at the time. It only took me two whole years to acknowledge it. Once I did, I dramatically, defiantly and silently declared: if it's because of my age then you're a coward.

When we waited together on these front steps, I was far too anxious to meet his gaze. I would just play with the cuffs of the navy polyester jacket he lent me for the second part of the evening. We were talking about New Order. We would always talk about New Order. He was kind of ashamed of liking Erasure and he knew very little about Depeche Mode. We wouldn't talk about the Cure a lot - although earlier that evening, I acquired the god-fearing audacity to quote the 13th at him: are you seducing or being seduced? To this day, I emphatically insist that the quote was in context, it must have been in context. He must have been flirting with me for me to say something as provocative as that. Surely I wasn't just dreaming of the attraction and rapport? I must have been out of my mind.


Is it really such a sin? Cause if it is, then I'll give in
We were talking about the Reading 3-16 DVD. I laughed at Barney's teleprompter at the front of the stage. "Surely he's been performing these songs for the best part of 20 years, how could he not remember the lyrics of Blue Monday?" He laughed and said that he always felt that Barney was so out of place on stage. He attributed these thoughts to how Barney came to be singer of the band and how Barney tended to have a real lack of showmanship. "It wasn't the place where he was meant to be - he was meant to be an accountant or an architect or something like that. It seems to be a such a mistake."

I knew he was speaking about himself, in some odd way. I didn't have the nerve or the time to ever ask him what he might of meant by that - our maxi taxi was here. He grabbed my hand as we walked to the van and resumed the rest of our evening.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #9
frYars - Olive Eyes
Piney Gir - Boston
Supersystem - The Lake
Ace of Base - Wave Wet Sand
Erasure - Waiting for the Day
Queen - Action This Day (demo)
Berlin - The Metro
Dr John - New Looks

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