Depeche Mode: Bite one

Chances are if you grew up in the 80s or 90s in Britain – you may have received a letter like this:

Chere Tanya!
Ca va?! Je suis ton amie de stylo, Marie France. J’habite a Rouen, j’ai quatorze ans, j’aime les lapins et Depeche Mode.”

Now hang on, rabbits, I hear you Marie France, and I do like your novel use of coloured felt-pens and use of little hearts over the “i’s”. We have an understanding, an entente, if you will. But Depeche Mode! I must protest. You are French, I am English and you certainly would not catch me in a T-shirt proclaiming “Hurry Fashion”, not outside Tokyo. It’s not just the semiotics; no, no, Marie France – think of the music, think of Martin Gore’s perm and his own sense of (hurry) fashion, and think of the music again. Am I getting through?

Well, who can reason with the French?

To business: Violator – the worst album ever recorded. The proof – Personal Jesus, “reach out and touch, yeah, ding-ding-a-ding ding”. Supporting evidence: “Cle-eean, the cleanest I’ve bee-een”. Furthermore, “Words are vairy unecess-airy, they can only mean harm.” Unfortunately, Dave Gahan, he not lyrically-blessed boss, did not opt for self-censorship in the light of his discoveries during the creation of “Break the Silence” those unecessairy words kept on coming, the axis of silence and violence was skewed disconcertingly for me and for others.

How could he stop himself anyway? This was a man who had long been pained by a competitive world with nightmarish visions of selfish grabbing hands, literally grabbing all they can. It was only fair that “Everything Counts” should be re-released to serve as a grim warning (to impressionable French and German teenagers, largely), and to earn more money for the Mode, n’est-ce pas Marie France?

Just remember, Depeche Mode in their least offensive moments provide foot-fodder for the girlies who want to prance and air synth to “Just Can’t Get Enough”, and that, my friends, is pretty damn offensive.