Happy 30th Anniversary to Depeche Mode’s seventh studio album Violator, originally released March 19, 1990.
There’s something to be said about waiting. I was introduced to Depeche Mode via my brother during the Music For The Masses (1987) and 101 (1989) era. So I was spoilt with a back catalogue of albums to enjoy and discover.
But there was something extra special about waiting for their much touted follow up to Masses to arrive, the anticipation growing with every mention inside Q magazine or NME that gave an update on release dates and the project’s first single. A new release was always a moment of imagining the band at their finest, the chance to hear new music. And until you dropped the needle on the record—or in this case pressed play on the CD player—it was mix of excited anticipation and absolute hope. This time would never present itself again. The chance to hear new music for the very first time.
In a very long tease, the first hint of new music from Violator came in the shape of the rocking blues tinged “Personal Jesus” released in August of the previous year with its repetitive guitar lick, pounding drums and drawn out raucous vocals from front man Dave Gahan. At the time, it was rare to think a Depeche Mode song could be so rock oriented, after all this was the band that became the face of the pop-synth/new wave era. So was this a bold departure, a total misstep, or a calculated play to cross over?
Thankfully it was a bold departure that simultaneously closed out a chapter of Depeche history, but also acted as an exciting foray into a new decade with the ‘90s just months away. Chief songwriter Martin Gore has always approached his songwriting with his own spiritual take, tracks like “Blasphemous Rumors” would often explore his relationship with religion contrasting the struggle (and irony) between the human and the divine. Taking the idea of being another’s salvation, “Personal Jesus” is a track that keeps its intensity in tight check, forever bubbling beneath the surface. Dealing with the all-consuming lifeline we can be to others and the God-like role we can take on for someone in relationships, it was a hooky observation of obsession or reassurance, depending on which side of the narrative you leaned.
As a gutsy first salvo, “Personal Jesus” whetted the appetite for the new album. But it would be a long seven-month wait before that appetite was satiated. And whilst “Personal Jesus” would go one to be covered most notably by Johnny Cash and Marilyn Manson, it was the next musical morsel to be released that would become Depeche Mode’s defining song.
As the second single released a month before the album’s arrival, “Enjoy The Silence” was everything a Depeche Mode fan could hope for. It combined much loved elements of lush synth beds, haunting melodies, and aching lyrics, which coalesced with house beats and slick guitar lines. Gahan’s vocals are intimate and seductive as they draw you in, with lyrics that examine the quiet satisfaction of a relationship, those tender moments when silence fills the void and your lover is in your arms and the world ceases to exist. There was something inviting. Something powerful in those declarations. Something that you could latch on to and feel a part of.
With the release of “Personal Jesus” and “Enjoy The Silence” expectations were buoyed for what Violator would contain. And so a month-and-a-half later the moment arrived. That moment of excitement buzzing through my body as I bought the CD from my local record store, raced home not daring to peek at the lyric book for fear of spoiling the element of surprise. And as I sat in front of my stereo I pressed play.
And for the next 47 minutes I was transfixed.
Transfixed by the bright synth techno pop of “World In My Eyes” with its tale of sexual exploration and reveling in the delight of pleasure and passion. Transfixed by “Sweetest Perfection” filled with desire and lust set against a shuffling snare that builds and builds until its musical climax at the mid-point, where the song becomes more fleshed out with slide guitars, live drumming and sweeping aural delights.
This was a band finding a new sound. Finding scope in a barer telling of their musical story. In the spaces between notes, the sound was given space to grow, and so each song feels bigger, bolder.
This is especially true in “Halo”—my personal favorite from the collection. Set against a driving beat and tension-building piano stabs, the song’s surrender to sinful pleasures sparing the consequences motif has a sense of urgency to it that is undeniable. And in classic Gore stylings, the lyrics accept the guilt willingly in the pursuit of passion, as so eloquently stated in the line “Like a halo in reverse.”
Gore had always had a way with words. Somehow expressing his innermost thoughts and desires in such personal revelations that connected to millions the world over. I, for one, would pore over the lines of each song, identifying with this expression or that. Feeling a bond with the turn of phrase or the sly smile hidden beneath the confession.
For all of Gore’s songcraft, and for Gahan’s ability to give expression to the lyrics that fill them with realness and soul, the elevation of the sound by producer Flood and band member Alan Wilder can’t be understated. Building on the bones of Gore’s demos that were deliberately stripped back to give them something to build on, Wilder and Flood molded sonic muscle around them. This is evidenced in the decision to refashion “Enjoy The Silence” from a dirge like torch song to the upbeat hit it became.
This is also true in the quieter moments of the album like the dreamlike “Waiting For The Night” that is simultaneously haunting and comforting. Here the undertow of brooding synths and the coupling vocals of Gore and Gahan make your surrender to the darkness, as little effects and glitches are laid throughout to constantly delight.
Similarly the pervy seduction of “Blue Dress,” where one begs their lover to dress a certain way to delight them, is heightened by the swaying, dreamy production. Sung by Gore himself, there’s a sense of beauty present in the thought that the simple (yet often sexually primed) acts can bring happiness and intimacy.
Elsewhere, “Clean” (with its lifting of the bass lines from Pink Floyd’s “One Of These Days”) is ironically murky and dark. With pounding drums, the song’s tale of redemption (“sometimes”) seemed to swing the balance of purity in favor of Gore the songwriter whilst ironically delivering Gahan one of his strongest moments on record, whilst he spiraled down into drug abuse.
For a band that is often slighted by being dour, dark and depressive in their sound, Violator for the most part is quite an uplifting and optimistic album. Sure there is a celebration of carnal desires, but as it shows in the bouncy pop oriented “Policy Of Truth” the darker side of love can be presented in almost joyous tones.
With Violator, Depeche Mode boldly pushed their sound into the new decade. With each ensuing release, they would continue to push and explore. But here, on Violator, they are at their most ambitious and focused. They found a way to be epic in their production yet remain intimate in how their songs connect with the listener. It was an album well worth the wait, and remains one still wildly enjoyable today.
LISTEN: