Depeche Mode were received as minor Gods by an appreciative and electro-rock starved Glasgow crowd last weekend when the Tour of the Universe made its one and only stop in Scotland.
Descending on the city for the first Scottish gig in some 20 years, 10,000 or so souls packed into an SECC crackling with atmosphere and some of the sharpest sartorial get-ups the place has seen in years.
The tour comes on the back of the band’s 12th studio album, the Sounds of the Universe, which has received a mixed response. The new album’s billing as one that “needs a few listens” lends an air of restraint to proceedings as fans assess how their heroes' new material will play out.
No-one in the SECC expected Depeche Mode to be the ground breaking hipsters of three decades ago but in truth the band have not strayed far from the sound which sparked a 30-year career. Still, the crowd’s reactions are pretty hard to gauge since by their very nature Depeche Mode attract a pretty understated crowd.
On stage Dave Gahan wheels around, writhing with pent-up (drug-free, cancer-free) energy and star-quality, as band mates Martin Gore and Andrew Fletcher stake out their own territories on either side of him.
The sonorous, doom-laden vocals are not quite as threatening any more and their hunger seems to have been tainted with by indulgence. Only the occasional flash of contrast gives context to the dark and introspective soundscape. The trademark keyboards are still there, still demanding concentration to find form in the incessant chords and driven repitition.
Enjoy the Silence, typically, stands out, as does Personal Jesus, which is kept for last as more recent material is aired. Gore’s dubious vocal strength and power still the crowd a little too much at times and his performances vibrate confusingly between epic Depeche Mode and Jason Donovan a la Joseph and the Technicolor Dream Coat.
As belted out “Miles Away” you got the feeling a lot of the crowd really were; minds started to wander and one fan uttered the fatal line, “why is it you wait until you’re too old before you start to wear glitter and spandex?” Come in Martin Gore, the style police want you for questioning. Still, not many 49-year-olds are still touring “the Universe” in an early '80s electronic band so perhaps the black nail varnish is excusable.
As for the venue, short of a facelift with a bulldozer and a dalliance with a wrecking-ball, the SECC will never be able to claim the status of a great venue. But for all that, Saturday night saw humble hanger four energised by a crowd of 30-something scenesters. Even the normally terrifying sight of grown men seat-dancing was given a little (just a little) edge of respectability.
The stage show mirrors the crowd in its understated impressiveness, although the giant likenesses on huge video screens threaten to steal the show, making the boys look like Lilliputians thrashing about at Gulliver’s boots.
Musical experiments and repetitive strain injury aside, this is an opportunity for heartfelt appreciation of a band who can lay claim to being a pillar of their genre, and who can clearly still lay claim to an dedicated Scottish following.
