Category Archives: Non-Album Tracks

Non-Album Tracks #6: ‘A Life Less Ordinary’

My sixth Non-Album Tracks post. Like the last one, this one’s a soundtrack track. Its parent film may not have been as good, but the song’s a winner.

Ash – ‘A Life Less Ordinary’
Released on:
A Life Less Ordinary [Soundtrack - 1997]

A Life Less Ordinary - Soundtrack

Also available on:
‘A Life Less Ordinary’ [Single - 1997]
Intergalactic Sonic 7″s [Compilation - 2002]

The summer of 1996 was a coming-of-age summer for me. I was twelve. Just out of primary school and due to start in the big bad world of second-level education – and officially become a teenager – that September. During this time, I was a Scout. A Sea Scout, in fact. And that year, I attended a large camp (or jamboree, if you will) held at Lough Erne in Co. Fermanagh, Northern Ireland. (Fact: this remains, as of Dec 2011 – over 15 years later – the one and only time I have ever been to Northern Ireland.)

Over the course of this camp I met a girl from Dundalk, with whom had my first proper kiss. And quite a few further kisses – she was even kind enough to pass on to me a case of strep throat. Soundtracking a lot of this were several singles from the album 1977 – the debut full-length from the Northern Irish band Ash. The songs were ubiquitous: especially ‘Girl From Mars’, ‘Goldfinger’ and, what seemed to become the unofficial theme of the camp, ‘Oh Yeah’.

I don’t know if it’s because of the inevitable associations I’ve made with the time that it was, but the songs have a definite “young” quality. The fact that two-thirds of the band were under 20 at the time probably helped. But they’re all short, simple, unpretentious (not to say young people can’t be pretentious…). Young

In the summer of 2001, Ash singles were ubiquitous once again. Their third album, Free All Angels, was everywhere, thanks mainly to its two popular lead singles: the masterfully melodic piece of genius that is ‘Shining Light’ and the good-but-actually-quite-overrated-especially-when-compared-to-Shining-Light ‘Burn Baby Burn’. And though the band were five years older, the songs still had that young, effervescent, teenage feeling.

In between these periods of omnipresence? Well, in late 1998 they released their second album, Nu-Clear Sounds, which was not as well-received as its predecessor. It was edgier, occasionally darker and lot less “young”. I say this listening to it now. I don’t remember hearing it or its singles – or much about it, really – at the time. I probably did hear ‘Jesus Says’ at some point. And I remember there being some controversy around the video for ‘Numbskull’ (NSFW). It clearly wasn’t controversial enough, however, as the album kind of vanished into obscurity, dragging the band with it.

Before this sophomore slump upturned the boat, Ash managed to release one standalone gem to the world:

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A Life Less Ordinary was Danny Boyle’s third film, his first to be made in America. After the one-two punch of Shallow Grave and Trainspotting, the film was a seen as a disappointment. I thought it was pretty good, though it certainly had its flaws. Holly Hunter was great in it. I love Holly Hunter… Anyway… the soundtrack album also failed to live up to Trainspotting‘s. If not in quality, then certainly in cultural penetration. Beck’s ‘Deadweight’, however great it was (and however fantastic Michel Gondry’s video for it was), was never going to outdo ‘Born Slippy’. And the soundtrack committed a heinous crime by including the horrible alternate version of R.E.M.’s best song, instead of the original album version, which features much more prominently (and memorably) in the film.

Ash’s title track appears only instrumentally in the film itself, where [spoiler alert] Ewan McGregor and Cameron Diaz’s characters successfully rob a bank, then afterwards, in the heat of the moment, share their first kiss – complete with a fairly un-Hollywood shiny string of saliva connecting their mouths as they pull away.  It’s that kind of messy urgency you get with the whole young, teenage love thing that I seem to be going on and on about.

But that is still its appeal. ‘A Life Less Ordinary’ succeeds for the same reasons ‘Goldfinder’ and ‘Oh Yeah’ do. It might be slightly more developed in terms of songwriting and production – possibly aided by the augmentation of the line-up, with Charlotte Hatherley joining as a second guitarist. But its core is the exact same. It’s that simple, primal yearning – exemplified by the first line of the chorus: “so take me in your arms again.” It isn’t complex, but it doesn’t need to be. Any complexity would lessen its effect.

When the band resurrected itself, storming the charts with Free All Angels and touring extensively in 2001 and 2002, their sets were dominated by the new tracks and the 1977 singles. The Nu-Clear Sounds material didn’t get much of a look in. ‘A Life Less Ordinary’ was a staple though. And, as far as I know, has remained so since.

Justifiably so.

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Non-Album Tracks #5: ‘Burn’

The fifth in a series of posts on my favourite Non-Album Tracks (i.e. songs never released by their artists on studio albums). This one’s a song I took a while getting into, by an act I took a while getting into.

Nine Inch Nails – ‘Burn’
Released on:
Natural Born Killers [Soundtrack - 1994]

Natural Born Killers - Soundtrack

When I saw Nine Inch Nails live for the first time – at the Barrowland Ballroom in Glasgow, July 2005 – I decided to take a strategic mid-set bathroom break during ‘Burn’. It was not a song I knew too well, so felt it was better to go then, lest I find myself having to go later on, during something that I truly did not want to miss. The same thing happened earlier that year, when I saw R.E.M. touring the questionable Around the Sun album: as soon as they started playing ‘Electron Blue’, I made a beeline for the jacks. In both cases, it worked out quite well. In the R.E.M. gig, I came back to two New Adventures… classics, ‘Electrolite’ and ‘Undertow’; in Glasgow, I returned to the floor to catch a crowd-enlivening Downward Spiral double of ‘Closer’ and ‘Reptile’. Fairly decent, although it wasn’t the most optimal piss-point in the gig: if had been able to hang on a few songs more, I might have been able to avoid having to stand through the interminable yawnfest that is ‘The Day the World Went Away’. Alas…

Let’s backtrack a bit. Much like Smashing Pumpkins, I didn’t start listening to Trent Reznor until quite a bit after the peak of his popularity. Of course, the video for ‘Closer’ made an impression, as I imagine it does with everyone who sees it. But this was entirely down to what my eyes – not my ears – were taking in. This was long before my allergy to anything electronic was cured by Primal Scream. Indeed, this was the reason I was initially resistant to the attempts of a friend to get me into Nine Inch Nails. This was in the early stages of a lengthy mix-tape/-CD exchange, which began with a conversation relating to Sonic Youth, during which I, High Fidelity-style, offered to make a tape.

I did listen to the homemade NIN compilation I received. A couple of times. But it did not fit my guitars-only tastes of the time at all. I think the first song on it was a remix of ‘Terrible Lie’. Me of early 2001 (I think that’s when this was) was not going to be swayed by a tracklist that featured song titles with parenthesized remix names. But one song cut through all this. It didn’t seem that electronic at all. I mean, I knew that there was a lot of electronic stuff going on in the track. But it didn’t sound “electronic”. It was fast, heavy and LOUD. That song was ‘Wish’.

In an ensuing conversation, I mentioned how ‘Wish’ stood out for me. A follow-up mix-CD I received a few weeks later was a lot heavier. And I got into it a lot more. I noticed that my favourite track on the second CD, like ‘Wish’, was originally released on Broken. A few months later, while in Belgium of all places, I found a cheap secondhand copy of Broken and bought it. (That other favourite track, which probably remains to this day my absolute favourite NIN track, was ‘Gave Up’.)

My Primal Scream-lead burgeoning acceptance of synthesizers and programmed beats fed my growing love of NIN – and vice versa. I bought every release I could find. At that point in time – 12 or 13 years into the existence of Nine Inch Nails, that consisted of a lot of singles, EPs and remix compilations – but only three studio albums. (By comparison: R.E.M., in their first 12 years, released nine.) Did this lead to a greater emphasis on non-album tracks? Not really. The albums – The Downward Spiral and The Fragile especially – seemed to tower over everything else in the NIN canon and got the vast bulk of my attention. I certainly never found myself rushing to listen to Things Falling Apart

I can’t remember when it was that I first heard the studio version ‘Burn’. I had heard – and mostly ignored, due to my ignorance of it – the performance of it in a bootleg of NIN’s Woodstock ’94 performance. It wasn’t when I bought the Natural Born Killers soundtrack, because that happened a good bit later. It must have been when I saw the video:

I can kind of see why I didn’t really get it at first. It takes a long long time to get going. You could fit one or two Pixies songs in there by the time it kicks off. It certainly did not have the urgency nor immediacy of songs like ‘Wish’ or ‘March of the Pigs’. But by then, I was appreciating the less in your face stuff too (and ‘Burn’ is still quite in your face when it gets in there).

I think the song’s main disadvantage was actually the very fact that it wasn’t on an album. As I said above, it was those to which I was listening the most. The absence of ‘Burn’ on any major Nine Inch Nails release meant that it just didn’t get any airtime for me. It never got the chance to grow on me.

This, of course, is the inherent disadvantage of the non-album track. Or was. Back then, listening to music was, for me, still a matter of taking a case off a shelf, taking the CD out and then putting it in a player of some kind. Nowadays, everything just goes on your MP3 player and can appear instantaneously.

If that Barrowland gig had been just a year or two later, I would have welcomed ‘Burn’ as a great song to hear, instead of as an ideal moment to relieve my bladder. Because the song, after I did get myself an MP3 player (to take my music collection to Japan), really did grow on me. I started to love it: its clattering drum loop; Trent’s bitter, angry megaphone vocal; the building layers of menacing tension, first with an inquisitive keyboard line – then a far less subtle bass synth; and then that bit where it really does kick off, when he’s “gonna burn this whole world down”.

The song (and the video) (and the soundtrack album as a whole) definitely captured the feeling of the film too. This was Reznor’s first attempt at writing music for a film. This would prove quite a rewarding medium for him – and us listeners. His recent score for The Social Network was outstanding – and bagged him an Oscar too. And in between ‘Burn’ and that, he delivered another two great non-album tracks: one from a very good filmone from a not very good film.

I did eventually get my chance to appreciate ‘Burn’ live properly. Twice in fact: it made the setlist on the second and third NIN performances I saw – Osaka in May 2007 and at the 2009 Summer Sonic Festival (also in Osaka). They were great.

I’ll leave you with what that 2009 performance of ‘Burn’ might have looked something like (one of Rob Sheridan’s great stage-shot videos – this one from Melbourne): Enjoy!

Non-Album Tracks #4: ‘Soul to Squeeze’

The fourth edition of my Non-Album Tracks series, in which my enthusiasm for writing intro blurbs slowly wanes…

Red Hot Chili Peppers – ‘Soul to Squeeze’

B-Side to:
‘Under the Bridge’ [1992]

Red Hot Chili Peppers - 'Under the Bridge'

Also available on:

Coneheads [Soundtrack - 1993]
‘Soul to Squeeze’ [Single - 1993]
Greatest Hits [Compilation - 2003] 

If my now fairly hazy memories of watching MTV back in the early 1991/1992 are accurate the channel had only about 10 videos which were all constantly in rotation. Half of those were singles from Guns N’ Roses’ Use Your Illusion albums. There was ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’, ‘Losing My Religion’ and Pearl Jam’s ‘Jeremy’. And then there were these two:

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I always enjoyed the first. It was wild, wacky, funny. As for the second one: whenever it came on, I always got depressed. Nothing to do with the lyrical content or the themes or anything. Of course not: nine-year-old me didn’t know/care about heroin abuse. No. Nine-year-old me found the song just so slow and boring. I usually changed the channel before that single shot of John Frusciante’s intro ended (at that age, 30 seconds is an eternity).

But anytime I got past the intro, I almost always stayed watching till the end. I liked the bits with Anthony Kiedis hanging out on the streets of L.A.  I was a bit perplexed, but intrigued by the shots of Flea hanging out literally under a bridge. Then it kicked off towards the end and Kiedis was running in slow motion towards the camera and it looked cool. Then it ended back on Frusciante and I’d kind of forgiven him at that point. I’m sure the quality of the song had a lot to do with it.

The video for ‘Breaking the Girl’, another Blood Sugar Sex Magik single, made an impression on me too, but it wasn’t nearly as omnipresent. Then Frusciante left. They kind of disappeared off my radar. I don’t really remember experiencing the Dave Navarro era stuff, with the exception of the animated video for their cover of ‘Love Rollercoaster’.

It wasn’t until Frusciante Jesused back that my awareness of them returned. I think this was the case for most of the world. The Californication album was massive. It was everywhere. This coincided with me getting my first proper instrument (a bass guitar) and was integral in my musical development. A couple of years later, the superior (yes, I said it) By the Way appeared and they were still everywhere. And all this time they were touring like crazy. It seemed like they were playing in Ireland every single summer. Stadium Arcadium appeared in 2006, but by that point, people’s enthusiasm for them seemed to have waned. Which is unfortunate, since Stadium Arcadium is a damn good album. Then they took a break, Frusciante has since left (again). Their next album comes out later this year.

Where does ‘Soul to Squeeze’ fit into this? Well, the song was recorded during the making of the Blood Sugar Sex Magik album, as chronicled brilliantly in the film Funky Monks. [If you're into music at all, even if you're not that into the Chili Peppers, I highly recommend watching it. It's absolutely brilliant - mainly for all the Frusciante-related bits. These are mostly him talking like a crazy starchild, but also bits of musical brilliance. Like this.] It was the b-side to ‘Under the Bridge’, but then got “upgraded” and was released as a single, due to its inclusion on the soundtrack to Coneheads.

They made a video for it too:

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I have vague recollections of seeing the video back then – the image of Kiedis’s head covered in snakes is a fairly arresting one. But it certainly didn’t lodge itself in my consciousness like the ones above. Is this the song’s fault? I wouldn’t like to think so, because the song is absolutely brilliant. Perhaps nine-/ten-year-old me thought it was too slow and boring? It just wasn’t immediate enough?  The intro to ‘Under the Bridge’ is 30 seconds long – this one’s 45.

Perhaps, with ‘Under the Bridge’ and ‘I Could Have Lied’, they felt they’d filled the album’s soft/slow/ballad quotient – and this is why they left it off? I have a feeling decisions like these were because, Frusciante, although clearly an exceptionally gifted player, didn’t have much sway in the band at the time (evident in the documentary).  The reason By the Way turned out so well is because Frusciante is all over it: the lush arrangements, the melodies, all those harmonizing vocals. Of course nine-year-old me would have hated By the Way. But who cares about him?

18-year-old me knew By the Way was great, just as 18-year-old me was able to recognize the seeds of that greatness in ‘Soul to Squeeze’. True, there are no Frusciante vocals – but it doesn’t need them; it’s very much a “solitary” kind of lyric. And it is much too sparse to be considered lush – but again, the sparseness suits it. But the melody: that’s there alright. The guitar parts chime and jangle and weave around unintrusively. That’s when they’re present – for a significant parts of the song they aren’t there. The bass carries the song, bouncing throughout while staying grounded. There is a very subtle mellotron (?) part which comes in the latter half of the song, adding texture. And the ever-dependable Chad Smith holds the fort.

I know fans of the band (in the early nineties) probably would have preferred to hear them doing their louder funkier more in-your-face rap-type ‘Give It Away’ thing. And I understand that – it’s a lot more instant; a lot more fun. But ‘Soul to Squeeze’ is just on a higher level. Even though it’s much more restrained, it achieves so much more.

It will be interesting to see how this year’s new, Frusciante-less album will fare. Will his influence outlast his presence? I hope so.

Non-Album Tracks #3: ‘Wolves, Lower’

Welcome to the third edition of my Non-Album Tracks series, dealing with a selection of my favourite B-sides, standalone singles and other songs from releases that were not studio albums. In the last installment, I managed to go wildly off-topic multiple times – something I’m keen to rein in. Since my massive R.E.M. obsession which lasted the bulk of the 1990s was covered in one of that post’s many digressions, I’m hoping that, by choosing an R.E.M. song this time, I will be less prone to my typical tangents. We’ll see how that works out. I have a feeling I might be starting off with a preamble…

R.E.M. – ‘Wolves, Lower’

Released on:
Chronic Town [EP - 1982]

Chronic Town

Also available on:
Dead Letter Office [CD] [1987]

Ah, EPs. Strange beasts. They’re longer than singles; shorter than albums. But since there are an array of definitions and interpretations of what singles and albums are, that puts the format in a massive grey area, dense with confusion. While there are plenty of archetypal, 5- or 6-song, 15- to 20-minute examples, there are many anomalies.  A recent high-profile example would be Lady Gaga’s late-2009 release, The Fame Monster: it is eight songs and over 34 minutes long; three of its tracks were released as individual singles. And yet it, like Nine Inch Nails’ similarly-sized Broken by , is not an “album”. In years to come, Gaga’s back catalogue of studio albums will read “The Fame [2008], Born This Way [2011]…” and so on.  This is possibly down to its planned/alternative life as a bonus add-on to the re-release of the fame, but regardless, the end result is that this release holds a somewhat awkward position in the artists canon of releases.

This odd, in-between status is shared by the more typical EPs. And unlike Gaga’s stupendous popular ”EP”, these are more likely to be forgotten about – or lose their individual identity if/when they are absorbed into compilations or other releases. Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ utterly excellent 5-song, self-titled debut release has been eclipsed in the history books by Fever to Tell. The now-standard inclusion of Pixies Come On Pilgrim* on the CD version of Surfer Rosa (in this part of the world at least) does a double-disservice: the former becomes a tacked-on extra, while the latter’s structure becomes perverted (à la the bonus track thing I complained about here) – ‘Brick Is Red’ is brilliantly realized album closer, yet so many listeners don’t know that it closes an album!

R.E.M.’s first EP, Chronic Town is 20 minutes long, contains five songs and was first released in 1982 – a year after their debut single and about eight months before their debut album. However, I’m willing to wager most people who are familiar with it know it as those five tracks at the end of the Dead Letter Office CD. That’s certainly how I first came to know it – though, predictably enough, it took me a while to figure out that it was actually a separate entity, as opposed to the preceding mish-mash of B-sides and other rarities compiled on the collection. But I guess that’s the whole point – and the point of this thread of posts: since it is not one of the bands “proper” albums, its songs become part of the mish-mash, destined to be regarded as offshoots or asides, if regarded at all.

Which is sad, because they’re an excellent bunch of songs. In particular, the first song: ‘Wolves, Lower’. It goes a little something like this:

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This is pure “early R.E.M.” – back when Peter Buck’s Rickenbacker still jangled the jangle with those arpeggios and no one could understand what Michael Stipe was singing about (or, often enough, what words he was actually singing). It has it all. The guitar leads the way, soon augmented by Mike Mills’s propulsive-yet-melodic bass and Bill Berry’s tight drums to create a tense, nervy atmosphere. And that’s before Stipe comes in with his crazy  ”Suspicion yourself, suspicion yourself, don’t get caught” stuff.

How does one “suspicion” oneself exactly? Suspicion isn’t a verb, Michael! I remember, when the 2004 single ‘Leaving New York’ came out and people were harping on about the “Leaving was never my proud” line and how ungrammatical it was. People didn’t harp on about ‘Wolves, Lower’, though. Perhaps because the line works better. Perhaps because ‘Wolves…’ is a better song overall. Most likely, though, it’s because ‘Wolves, Lower’ was heard by an audience only a tiny fraction of the later song’s.  Anyway, the “suspicion yourself” phrase DOES work brilliantly, so grammar can just feck off on this one.

suspicion yourself from Wolves is just bad grammer [sic], but it works. Well it’s in a song called Lower Wolves that is titled on the record as Wolves, Lower. What did you expect? [Michael Stipe]

Around the 0:49 mark, the song takes an upward turn as we come out of the murky verses and build up to the chorus part. Stipe starts singing out, the backing vocals come in and Buck adds a dinky little guitar lick in there. And then it’s the chorus. For this, Mike Mills and Bill Berry sing the lyrics (“House in order”) while Stipe does some wordless ah-ing. It’s a strategy that served “early R.E.M.” pretty well. On the Live at the Olympia release, the band plays ‘Letter Never Sent’ from Reckoning, after which an audience member compliments Stipe on his repeated “ohs” in the song. He explains: “that was [a] just go “ooh” and “aah” and let Mike and Bill do everything kind of song.” Ditto ‘Wolves…’, which, incidentally, is also included on Live at the Olympia (which, incidentally, is a fantastically good live album, well worth your time).

Other than the briefest of breaks after the second chorus, that’s it. R.E.M. were never big on guitar solos, partially because Buck wasn’t a particularly skilled (in the traditional sense) guitarist and probably also because the guitar wasn’t really the band’s lead instrument. I can’t remember if it was said about R.E.M. or if it was Joy Division instead, but either way… R.E.M. – certainly in their earlier recordings – were a band where each instrument, Stipe’s voice included, acted as kind of lead instruments. Each member did his own thing, never encroaching on what the other members were playing, resulting in four distinct parts coming together, retaining their individuality while also combining forces to become something greater.

Yes.

I shall leave you with some fan footage of ‘Wolves, Lower’ played at the Olympia. Enjoy!

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*Apparently, Come On Pilgrim, is not really an EP either, it’s a “mini-LP” – longer than an EP, but shorter than an LP…

Non-Album Tracks #2: ‘Shake the Disease’

After an extended, college-induced break, I return to this blog, bringing with me hopes of maintaining somewhat regular and frequent post output. I think a minimum of one-post-a-week is a modest, but not unachievable, aim. That said, I do have exams coming up soon, so this may all go out the window.

Anyway, I resume activities with the second installment in the Non-Album Tracks series, which highlights some of my favourite songs that were not included on a studio album by their artist. This time, it’s one of the two non-album singles released by Depeche Mode 1985 – the one the band doesn’t hate.

Depeche Mode – ‘Shake the Disease’
[Single - 1985]

Depeche Mode - 'Shake the Disease'

Available on:
The Singles 81→85 [1985] / The Singles 81>85 [1998]
The Best Of, Volume 1 [2006]

I’d like to think my default setting when it comes to music-listening is for there to be a reasonably broad array of artists which I am “into” at any given time. That seems to be the case at the moment, where I find myself regularly listening to a variety of performers, spanning quite a few different genres. However, I have to admit this scenario is somewhat rare. Every so often, I find myself getting ridiculously fixated on a particular artist, usually late into their career (or even after it has ended), so that they already have a significant body of work just waiting to be consumed. I end up listening to this artist almost exclusively, for extended periods of time. I buy their music DVDs; I buy books about them; I read every article and interview I can find (the Internet made this a lot easier). I obsess. And if they release new material I jump on it. And when they tour I make sure I get to see them, even if it involves a fair bit of travelling.

The earliest fixation I can recall was with Guns N’ Roses, in the very early 1990s. For one birthday (or Christmas) I got Appetite for Destruction, Lies and both Illusion albums on cassette tape and listened to them like crazy. This lasted until 1994, when my then-casual love for R.E.M. turned into a full-blown obsession. Automatic for the People and Monster were the first albums I got in this shiny new CD format. I picked up Out of Time and Green soon after. Over the next few years I’d work my way back through their pre-Warner Bros. albums, with other landmarks occurring along the way: in September 1996, I turned 13 and got New Adventures in Hi-Fi for my birthday; Up followed in’98; and then in the summer of ’99, I went to my first unaccompanied-by-parents gig to see them play in Lansdowne Road, where I loudly sang along to every word (except for ‘Cuyahoga’, with which I wasn’t quite as familiar at the time), much to the annoyance of the people around me.

When I was in my fourth year of secondary school, the new obsession was Pixies. This particular obsession spurred me on to play music myself, a spurring later augmented by my Sonic Youth infatuation, which kicked off in 2001 and lasted for the next three or four years. This kind of gave way to a Nine Inch Nails thing, though that perhaps wasn’t as strong. For much of late 2008 and 2009, it was all about Tegan and Sara. And I’ve just come off an absolutely massive Handsome Furs buzz (which is impressive given their back catalogue consists of just two albums).

In between all that, it was everything Depeche Mode. From approximately September 2006 until June 2008, I lived, breathed, walked, talked, ate, drank, slept Depeche Mode.

Not that this was a sudden discovery of sorts. Of course, I was already reasonably familiar with the band. I remember when the videos for ‘Personal Jesus’ and ‘Enjoy the Silence’ were appearing on MTV with considerable regularity – particularly the latter, which I always seemed to find really depressing and quite boring and the popularity of which I could never understand. I vaguely remember when ‘I Feel You’ showed up and people freaked out about how different Dave Gahan looked. I remember when he had that massive drug overdose in 1996. I have minor recollections of ‘I Feel Loved’ being released and I’m fairly sure I caught their performance at the 2001 MTV Europe Music Awards. I kind of remember Dave Gahan releasing his first solo album. Ish. And that’s about it. Oh – and I obviously knew that song.

I didn’t know anything about the band. I didn’t know that Vince Clarke was a member at the start and that he wrote their songs then. I didn’t know that Martin Gore wrote the songs after he left. I didn’t know who Alan Wilder was nor how much of a genius he was. I didn’t know Wilder left the band in 1995. In late 2005 or early 2006, when I first purchased a Depeche Mode album, I may not have been aware they were still around.

That first album I bought was Violator. A natural entry point, given it’s their most popular, famous album and the one most people seem to cite as their best. Having worked my way all the way through their catalogue, just as I did with R.E.M. a decade before, even going through a brief phase of thinking Black Celebration was superior, I have to concur. Violator is their best. It is also one of the best albums I have ever heard by anyone. Listening to it now, for the zillionth time, it continues to amaze me with just how perfect it is.

Not that I realized any of this when I first bought it: I put it on; thought the first song was okay; didn’t understand why Dave sounded so different on the second track; already knew ‘Personal Jesus’; thought ‘Halo’ was actually really excellent – may have listened to it a second time; thought ‘Waiting for the Night’ was fairly beautiful; knew ‘Enjoy the Silence’; then just kind of stopped paying attention for the rest of the album, ignorant of the fact that track 7, a less familiar single, would later become one of my most loved songs. Violator sat on my shelf for a while after that.

A few months down the road, one of my course-mates in college bought Music for the Masses and loved it. He lent it to me and I was very impressed. Much more instantly impressed than I was with Violator. It did me go back and reassess that one though. I started to love it, but the obsession did not hit yet. That wouldn’t happen until late in 2006, after I had moved to Nagasaki, Japan.

One day, I was having a look at the used CDs in the You-ing (遊ING) in/near Hamanomachi (later moved to the covered arcade nearby) and I spotted a copy of the bands The Singles 81→85 compilation for a very reasonable price. I figured this would be a great way to – hipster-style – get into their “earlier stuff”, y’know, before they became all big and stuff. Nah, that wasn’t really my motivation at all. I was aware that their early 80s output was, well, very 80s. The CD was just cheap. I took the disc, along with a couple of other new purchases, on a group road trip up to Sasebo, the second biggest city in Nagasaki prefecture. The Depeche Mode compilation was enthusiastically received at first, especially when that song came on (track 3 on the collection), but the lack of familiarity with the remainder of the material got the better of us and we changed to something else.

Still, I persevered a bit with the compilation on my own time. Spending some idle work time going on Depeche Mode Wikipedia trails probably helped too, as I learned more about the band’s methodology and their inner working dynamics. The track that really infected me was ‘Everything Counts’. Soon, I couldn’t stop playing it. Something about the contrast between the verses and choruses – having different vocalists take each part definitely added to the effect (also used somewhat on the song this post is nominally about, if I ever get to it…).

I believe this was the point my burgeoning interest in the group crossed over into my trademark obsession. I’m not sure of the exact route I took through their discography. I might have got their then-latest Playing the Angel next. I know that I bought their first three albums in a 3CD box set thing in a really cool music store in Beijing on my trip there in early 2007. I got all of them anyway. I got their live concert DVDs too and would annoy my friends by having them on every time they were over. And I just listened to their music. All. The. Time.

It’s kind of funny how one might consider that 81→85 compilation as their “earlier stuff”. Of course, it is, very literally, their earlier stuff. All their other stuff came after… But that compilation really does mark quite a distinct separation between the two main phases of their career. I mean, with R.E.M., you could possibly consider the big change when they released Lifes Rich Pageant, on which Michael Stipe started making the words he was singing audible and comprehensible. But it might make more sense to look at their jump from indie to major label, between the Document and Green albums. That division seems to have a divisive effect on their fanbase. You had many (more) fans coming on board after they signed to Warner. And you had many old school fans decrying/lamenting the move, putting all their indie label output on a pedestal, saying to this day that Murmur is their best, etc. Don’t get me wrong, I love Murmur too. And Lifes Rich Pageant is in my top three of theirs. But on the other hand, New Adventures in Hi-Fi, the tenth album, over a decade into their career, their fifth on Warner Bros. is, to me, their greatest achievement.

I’m digressing wildly here. The point I’m trying to make is basically that the 81→85 compilation was the end of an era for Depeche Mode. Namely, their somewhat camp and cheesy 80s era. After that, they were just… so much cooler (in part thanks to Anton Corbijn coming on board). And their musical output was more consistent, darker and simply better. I don’t think this massive jump forward can be illustrated more clearly in the difference between their last single of 1985 and their first of 1986.

‘It’s Called a Heart’ was released in September 1985 and is considered by both Martin Gore and Alan Wilder to be the worst song the band ever recorded. It’s ridiculous. The melodies are a poor imitation of some of their previous hits. The lyrics are ridiculous. And the less said about the video, the better. Contrast that with just a few months later, when they put out ‘Stripped’. It’s pretty much infinitely superior to the preceding release in every way. And since ‘Stripped’ – and its parent album, Black Celebration - they’ve pretty much kept on form (inevitably with some inevitable peaks and troughs, but no trough as low as ‘It’s Called a Heart’).

‘Shake the Disease’ (we got there finally!) came out before ‘It’s Called a Heart’ and comes just before it at the end of that singles collection. This was before they became all dark and cool, while they still had their true 80s vibe going on. The production does not belie this. There are elements of that early campness in how it sounds, but it’s the song itself that gives it its power and helps it to transcend its somewhat dated trappings. (The video is somewhat decent as well, with some innovative – for its time anyway – dizzy camera work going on.)

The recording, like ‘Everything Counts’, plays off the difference between Dave Gahan and Martin Gore’s voices. Gore opens the song with a falsetto-y “ah”-ing, leading into Gahan’s deeper verses. Then, after the chorus, Gore, mixed so that he’s right in your ears, pleads with you to “understand” him. Brilliant.

But like I said, the song itself is really its strength. I don’t think this is more evident than in the live performances of the song on the tour for Playing the Angel, where Gore sometimes sang it as one of his solo songs in the set (Gore usually sings lead on two songs in the middle of the main set and then the first of the encore). This arrangement strips the song right down, with Gore being accompanied by a piano (and some minimal backing vocals on the falsetto part).

It’s on the Touring the Angel: Live in Milan DVD, but I really like this video from the 2006 Coachella festival. It’s all a single shot, starting way out with a wide view of the stage and then zooming right in on Gore as he sings. It’s really magical. Would have loved to have seen it in person.

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I eventually got to see Depeche Mode play live in Dublin, in December 2009, less than a week after I moved back to Ireland. My major obsession had subsided, but I still got stuck in there at the gig, singing along throughout (a little less obnoxiously than I did at R.E.M. in 1999). Unfortunately, we were treated to neither a full-band nor Gore-solo version of ‘Shake the Disease’. Though, for the first song of the encore he did pull out ‘One Caress’ from Songs of Faith and Devotion, which is also one of my favourites.

The highpoint of the gig, actually, was that famous song that bored and depressed me back in 1990. It’s funny. Being an obsessive fan of a band, you tend to hope they play some odd, obscure, rarely-played songs – and then yelp like a child when they do. But something has to be said for those massive hits, the way they connect with the crowd, even though they’ve been played and heard hundreds of times before. I’ve been to three R.E.M. concerts and each time they started ‘Losing My Religion’ was a moment of immense proportions. Likewise, when Depeche Mode unleashed ‘Enjoy the Silence’, predictable as it was, I couldn’t help but be consumed by it – and the almost religious fervour with which it was received by the crowd. Epic.

Wow, funny/sad how I struggled to write 2000-word essays for college, but spewing out the same amount in a post about a band I like is a breeze. True, it helps when you don’t bother to structure the post or stay on topic at all…