Four weeks at number one from 20th February 1982
Music journalists are often quick to judge the commercial prospects of any group in the heat of the moment, and frankly, nobody could have blamed them for their negative tack in this instance. The only evidence either they or the general public had that Martin Gore could write songs lay in a somewhat middling instrumental on “Speak And Spell”, childishly entitled “Big Muff”, plus the middling vocal track "Tora! Tora! Tora!". It showed he could pen a passable melody, but if these were the only Gore compositions heard in public, you can hardly blame them for speculating what on earth the rest of them must have sounded like. Did another synth instro entitled “Enormous Dildo” exist elsewhere which was of a lesser quality? Did he have an entire concept album of instrumentals with crude sexual titles hidden away somewhere, and were Depeche Mode to become some kind of Kraftwerk influenced version of the Anti Nowhere League?
“See You” was therefore something of a pleasant surprise and a puzzle from the offset. It had apparently been penned while Gore was still at secondary school, a sweet but melancholic ballad written before he had even experienced a romantic relationship. He has since referred to this single somewhat critically, remarking that it was an example of him writing outside his personal experience, whereas his later songs about love were all at least partially biographical. He gives the impression of being slightly ashamed that this single therefore emotionally manipulates the listener into believing its lyrics are the truth.
Where you sit on this topic depends on your feelings on pop music, and whether effective songwriting has to be “The Truth” (a very purist hippy/ punk idea of what the form has to be) or can just as easily be the lie that tells the truth. Do we expect every artist to have direct personal experience of the things they reflect? It seems limiting, unrealistic and a bit unreasonable to do so.
The focus of this single is seemingly first love, which had been a Tinpan Alley songwriting staple and a subject numerous other artists turned to. “First Love Never Dies”, tackled by The Walker Brothers and The Cascades among others, is one of the most direct and obvious examples - “And if you're thinking of me/ And you find that you still love me/ There's no use to go on living lies”, the song demands towards the end, perhaps more in hope than expectation.
Then there are many other examples – “Macarthur Park” is probably the most overwrought and ambitious, but the angle shifts and alters in tracks like “Disco 2000” by Pulp (more of a document of a pie-eyed puppy crush than love, admittedly) and the almost flippant, joky “Emily Kane” by Art Brut. Romantic nostalgia easily captures the imagination of listeners precisely because your first serious relationship or (worse) unrequited desire can prove to be the most powerful, confusing and potentially havoc-wreaking event you’ll experience. The statistics around first affairs are unforgiving, and they usually strike when we’re too emotionally immature to deal with them. No wonder songwriters can’t let go of the idea – there’s either a good commercial racket in penning a tune about the subject, or else an enormous emotional purging for the author, and sometimes both.
In the case of “See You”, it’s possible to hear the “deception” if you listen to it after any of the above songs I've mentioned. Whereas they are rich in the kind of close observational detail typical of intense life experiences, picking up on background details like old men playing checkers in the park or woodchip on the walls, “See You” is suspiciously broad. “I remember the days when we walked through the woods/ we’d sit on a bench for awhile”, states Gore vaguely. “I treasured the way we used to laugh and play”. So far, this could just as easily be a song about a dearly departed pet dog, so routine and flimsy are the outlines.
These initial missteps don’t end up mattering, though. A narrative of sorts begins to emerge which is only too believable. “I swear I won’t touch you,” he tells his imaginary ex towards the end, and “We’ll stay friendly like sister and brother/ though I think I still love you”. It’s not exactly poetry, but there is a tension tugging away at the song here which feels only too real. He’s making promises about his emotions he can’t keep, contradicting himself, and even throwing in trite philosophy into the song with the line “I think that you’ll find/ people are basically the same”; it’s certainly true that people need to be loved, but how they are loved, and by whom, are deeply complicated areas, and despite Gore’s teenage naivete here, as a listener you’re left with the impression that the singer (Dave Gahan) knows this. It’s not delivered forcefully or victoriously, it almost sounds as if he knows he’s in a weak bargaining position. If all we need is love, and we’re all essentially the same, then why meet up with someone from our past with baggage, after all? Why not choose a less complicated route?
The arrangements do a lot of the song’s work and are in places downright beautiful. The melancholic melody lines which emerge beneath “If the water’s still flowing we can go for a swim” are almost trying to sound victorious, bordering on a fanfare, but ultimately collapse into defeat. The endless tug-of-war at the heart of this song, portraying a man who doesn’t even really know what he actually wants, is unbelievably effective, and force the listener to imagine someone hanging around by the telephone wondering whether to invite themselves back into their ex’s life again, all the time knowing it’s futile and potentially damaging. Five years is a long time, and the times change – and the longer the communication gap, the longer the odds of closing it are, and the less likely it is the contact will be well received.
Although who knows – perhaps Gore’s imaginary paramour would have responded well to his imaginary phone call, met him and perhaps have even brought her baby. As there were no further episodes to this story, it’s left up to us to speculate; but I think we all know what actually happened, from personal experience if nothing else. It’s one thing to drunkenly dwell on one’s romantic past while in a melancholic mood, quite another to actually invite it back in, and most of us would ponder the option briefly only to ultimately pass.
It’s also no exaggeration to say that this single saved Depeche Mode. They needed to return with a sizeable hit to be seen as anything other than yesterday’s news, and “See You” reached number six and showed tremendous pop suss and also the beginnings of a more complicated, moodier side which hadn’t come through strongly on “Speak And Spell”. The critics seemed more irritated and disappointed than happy for the group.
If you're in any doubt that this was also some form of progression artistically, it's worth playing any Clarke era track back-to-back with it. Clarke's earliest songs are often great, but choppy and home made sounding. "See You" explores moods and atmospheres which aren't necessarily futuristic and alienating, but instead soundtrack a particular emotional funk. Anton Corbijn later remarked that Depeche Mode's music could often be filmic, and while tracks like "Photographic" might have skirted around the edges of that, there are elements of "See You" where it really comes to the fore, particularly during the intro. You have a complete sense of the drama building before the single even properly begins.
It was also a bigger hit than “Just Can’t Get Enough” in terms of its chart position – a result the group were thrilled and reinvigorated by – although it hasn’t had the same kind of longevity. I suspect that a lot of listeners dismissed this as fluffy and insincere synth teen-pop in the long run, but that’s a mistake; at the heart of “See You” is the kind of mournful electro-balladry OMD would be attempting themselves a year or two later, only Depeche Mode forsake misty dreaminess here for the doomed, confused romanticism of the everyman, stumbling around to find the right words. It wouldn’t be their last shot at this, suggesting that Gore knew how he would behave in a serious relationship long before he’d actually had one. Perhaps it was "the truth" after all.
Pigbag reemerge at number six with “Getting Up”, which eventually placed itself snugly behind “See You” at number two. Its busy, jittery and restless melodies perhaps unsurprisingly saw it only reaching number 61 in the national charts. The reissue of “Papa’s…” would clinch it for them eventually, but this has gone on to become one of their less familiar 45s.
The amazing “Party Fears Two” by The Associates also entered at number 15 during Depeche Mode’s first week at number one, surprisingly only peaking at number 13 – although its presence in the indie charts is somewhat inexplicable given that it was distributed by WEA (part of Warner Brothers Communications). This isn’t the first time the NME Chart will throw up a peculiarity of this nature.
Very little new can be said about the track itself, certainly not in a few perfunctory words, but the disparate elements of Billy Mackenzie’s ambitious, leaping vocals and those strangely deadpan synth melodies remain surprising even on endless revisits. A deeply unlikely “pop” hit and a rare stroke of pure genius.
Honourable mention must also go to the Tesco Bombers with “Hernando’s Hideaway” at number 30, a weird, rasping track with tango rhythms. They were a loose, floating collective of musicians of whom Keith Allen was an occasional contributor – it’s a far cry from this to “Vindaloo” (or actually, is it?)
Chron-Gen’s take on the Elton Motello classic “Jet Boy Jet Girl” emerges at number 7 the following week, eventually climbing to number 3. It’s not a patch on the original, obviously, not least because the group change the “he gives me head” line to something less offending. “Punk rock” indeed (and it’s not as if the contents of the rest of the song aren’t even more graphic, so why bother?)
Lord alone knows what Foster & Allen would have made of it all, who enter at number 19 in week three of Depeche’s run with their national chart hit “A Bunch of Thyme”. It would climb no higher than number 16, but it’s highly unlikely they had their eyes on the indie chart at all – their courtesy car to the Top of the Pops studios awaited. There they sat clad in spangly green clothes looking faintly bemused by the studio lights and the audience's attempt to dance and sway along to their contemplative folk sound.
A few spaces lower at number 22 rested one of the greatest indie singles of the year in the form of “Revolutionary Spirit” by The Wild Swans, led by ex-Teardrop Explodes member Paul Simpson. This was the final release by the Zoo Records label, owned by Bill Drummond and David Balfe, and was a superb way to bow out – combining thundering rhythms, chiming keyboard lines and sonorous vocals with the kind of song the word “anthem” should be used for, but very seldom is. It deserved better than it’s final number 9 indie chart resting place, but some of this may have been due to Bill and Balfe’s attention being diverted elsewhere at the time.
During the final week of the chart reign of “See You”, anarcho post-punks Zounds enter with “Dancing” at number 15. Its sombre keyboard refrain and downbeat rhythms contradict the song title quite heavily.
Spizzenergi returns to the indie chart at number 20 with “Work”, a lovely bit of pseudo-rock and roll jiving and wiggling based around the dreariness of workaday routines. They even manage to make the ironing seem strangely joyous.
Charge emerge at number 25 with “Destroy The Youth”, an explosive minute and a half which eventually peaked at the number 9 spot. A garbled rush of aggression, it starts as it means to both continue and end. No peaks and troughs, just a straight-ahead charging bull of a single.
Blimey. What an incredibly fertile period for the indie charts this was. The full listings are over on the UK Mix Forum.
It was also a bigger hit than “Just Can’t Get Enough” in terms of its chart position – a result the group were thrilled and reinvigorated by – although it hasn’t had the same kind of longevity. I suspect that a lot of listeners dismissed this as fluffy and insincere synth teen-pop in the long run, but that’s a mistake; at the heart of “See You” is the kind of mournful electro-balladry OMD would be attempting themselves a year or two later, only Depeche Mode forsake misty dreaminess here for the doomed, confused romanticism of the everyman, stumbling around to find the right words. It wouldn’t be their last shot at this, suggesting that Gore knew how he would behave in a serious relationship long before he’d actually had one. Perhaps it was "the truth" after all.
Away From the Number One Spot
Pigbag reemerge at number six with “Getting Up”, which eventually placed itself snugly behind “See You” at number two. Its busy, jittery and restless melodies perhaps unsurprisingly saw it only reaching number 61 in the national charts. The reissue of “Papa’s…” would clinch it for them eventually, but this has gone on to become one of their less familiar 45s.
The amazing “Party Fears Two” by The Associates also entered at number 15 during Depeche Mode’s first week at number one, surprisingly only peaking at number 13 – although its presence in the indie charts is somewhat inexplicable given that it was distributed by WEA (part of Warner Brothers Communications). This isn’t the first time the NME Chart will throw up a peculiarity of this nature.
Very little new can be said about the track itself, certainly not in a few perfunctory words, but the disparate elements of Billy Mackenzie’s ambitious, leaping vocals and those strangely deadpan synth melodies remain surprising even on endless revisits. A deeply unlikely “pop” hit and a rare stroke of pure genius.
Honourable mention must also go to the Tesco Bombers with “Hernando’s Hideaway” at number 30, a weird, rasping track with tango rhythms. They were a loose, floating collective of musicians of whom Keith Allen was an occasional contributor – it’s a far cry from this to “Vindaloo” (or actually, is it?)
Chron-Gen’s take on the Elton Motello classic “Jet Boy Jet Girl” emerges at number 7 the following week, eventually climbing to number 3. It’s not a patch on the original, obviously, not least because the group change the “he gives me head” line to something less offending. “Punk rock” indeed (and it’s not as if the contents of the rest of the song aren’t even more graphic, so why bother?)
Lord alone knows what Foster & Allen would have made of it all, who enter at number 19 in week three of Depeche’s run with their national chart hit “A Bunch of Thyme”. It would climb no higher than number 16, but it’s highly unlikely they had their eyes on the indie chart at all – their courtesy car to the Top of the Pops studios awaited. There they sat clad in spangly green clothes looking faintly bemused by the studio lights and the audience's attempt to dance and sway along to their contemplative folk sound.
A few spaces lower at number 22 rested one of the greatest indie singles of the year in the form of “Revolutionary Spirit” by The Wild Swans, led by ex-Teardrop Explodes member Paul Simpson. This was the final release by the Zoo Records label, owned by Bill Drummond and David Balfe, and was a superb way to bow out – combining thundering rhythms, chiming keyboard lines and sonorous vocals with the kind of song the word “anthem” should be used for, but very seldom is. It deserved better than it’s final number 9 indie chart resting place, but some of this may have been due to Bill and Balfe’s attention being diverted elsewhere at the time.
During the final week of the chart reign of “See You”, anarcho post-punks Zounds enter with “Dancing” at number 15. Its sombre keyboard refrain and downbeat rhythms contradict the song title quite heavily.
Spizzenergi returns to the indie chart at number 20 with “Work”, a lovely bit of pseudo-rock and roll jiving and wiggling based around the dreariness of workaday routines. They even manage to make the ironing seem strangely joyous.
Charge emerge at number 25 with “Destroy The Youth”, an explosive minute and a half which eventually peaked at the number 9 spot. A garbled rush of aggression, it starts as it means to both continue and end. No peaks and troughs, just a straight-ahead charging bull of a single.
Blimey. What an incredibly fertile period for the indie charts this was. The full listings are over on the UK Mix Forum.
Number One in the National Charts
The Jam: "A Town Called Malice/ Precious" (Polydor)
Tight Fit: "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" (Jive)
Yay, Zounds! One of the more poppy anarcho groups, worth investigating. I'm enjoying these pieces, thanks for writing them. I remember being pretty surprised when I found out that 'See You' was post-Clarke, it's pretty melodically accomplished and the backing vocals are really sweet
ReplyDeleteI've no doubt the production magic of Daniel Miller is all over it, but it's still a staggering achievement given how young Gore was at the time.
DeleteRevolutionary Sprit", what a track. Apparently financed by Bunnymen drummer Pete De Freitas, who also played on the single. Its only negative points are that it was recorded (accidentally?) in mono and you can't buy it on iTunes.
ReplyDeleteYes, all the versions I've ever obtained have that mono mix and a very top-heavy production. It's a pity.
Delete