Two weeks at number one from w/e 14th April 1984
“People are People so why should it be/ you and I should get along so aw-fully?”
Oh. You immediately get the impression Martin Gore thought he had created a grand slogan here, one which could proudly open the song, but it’s an unfortunate example of him falling back into his naive teenage ways (despite no longer being a teen). On “See You” he pronounced that “I think that you’ll find people are basically the same”, and “People Are People” returns to this point. Are we not, he seems to ask, fundamentally driven by the same desires, the same emotions, the same need to commune in pleasancy?
As the song unfolds it at least expands on this point a bit more gracefully. If “We’re different colours/ and we’re different creeds/ and different people have different needs” sounds a little bit too close to David Brent for comfort, the sneer of “I’m relying on your common decency/ So far it hasn’t surfaced/ but I’m sure it exists/ it just take a while to travel/ from your head to your fists” is at least a smart putdown, albeit one which probably would cut no ice with the person shouting aggressively in a pub car park.
The song’s strengths lie away from its well-meaning but wide-eyed lyrics. “People Are People” sees Depeche progressing from the gentile industrialisms of “Construction Time Again”, where at certain moments it felt as if they were tinkling on metallic surfaces gracefully, into something harder, more aggressive. The compressed thwacks and crashes are both akin to the harder edges of the emerging industrial scene and strangely dancefloor friendly, and the arrangement packs everything it can into it; vocal breakdowns, Art of Noise styled bass vocal samples, despairing symphonic synth lines and crashing orchestral stabs.
It is, in short, as subtle as a brick in the face but complicated all the same, which is one reason the lyrics can sometimes be ignored or dismissed. If you’re going to place them within the context of an arrangement which is essentially one melodic exclamation mark after another, you can just about get away with viewing society through a panicked, simplistic and over-dramatic lens. Taken by itself, it’s an enjoyable cacophony, an overloaded piece of pop whose only real attempts at subtlety are Martin Gore singing “I can’t understand what makes a man hate another man” like a wounded child in a playground. Even that, it has to be said, isn’t exactly understated.
If you’re reading this and gaining the impression that “People Are People” has never really been my favourite Depeche Mode single, or is something I can only enjoy with reservations, you’d be absolutely right. For all its bombast and faintly ludicrous huff and puff, though, it managed to climb higher up the national charts and sell more copies than any single of theirs before it (and became a sales high-point they didn’t match again until the next decade). This is despite the fact that if you tune into an oldies radio station today and hear any Depeche Mode at all, this probably won’t be the single that comes on the air.
I think there’s a fairly straightforward explanation for both its historic success and relative lack of enduring appeal: 1984 wasn’t a very subtle time for pop music. The first new number one of the year was Paul McCartney (a man who was experienced enough to know better) tweely ruminating on the futility of war on top of an over-busy oompah arrangement, followed by Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s Fairlight driven raunch of “Relax”. A quick run down the list of the rest of the year’s big chart hits also reveals a raft of big, noisy, tech-driven and restless number ones, clumsy statements and saccharine ballads. Obviously, it was all wrapped up in a large bow with “Do They Know Its Christmas” at the end, which some would argue was the most blundering record of them all.
In a mainstream chart overloaded with such hyperactivity and attention-seeking, “People Are People” fits perfectly, its bull-in-a-china-shop ethos and despair of humanity finding lots of similar company. It wouldn’t even be the most-quoted example of naive lyricism that year, as Culture Club’s “War Song” with its refrain of “War was stupid/ and people are stupid” picked up most of the mockery (in fact, you could argue that the central philosophical position of “War Song” is just “People Are People” diluted to remove any vaguely poetic content).
In 2025, though, it still has musical impact, but lyrically speaking feels over-eager and overly aggrieved, like someone’s unedited, unvarnished thoughts about violence shortly after having been on the receiving end. I sometimes wonder what triggered it, and suspect that despite the talk of colours and creeds, it may have been Gore’s own effeminate dress-sense being present in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’s talked frequently about the dangers of navigating pubs and bars in Basildon dressed “the wrong way”, and “People Are People” sounds like every one of those moments relived and given a showcase. It certainly found appreciation among a gay audience that year, proving perhaps that sometimes, if you’re up against the constant threat of violence and only want the ability to live your life without fear, a subtle expression of that fact isn’t always what’s called for.
New Entries Elsewhere In The Charts
12. Naz Nomad & The Nightmares - I Had Too Much To Dream (Last Night) (Big Beat)
Peak position: 6
XTC’s spoof psychedelic project Dukes of Stratosphear has received a lot of attention over the years, but The Damned’s stint as Naz Nomad & The Nightmares seems to have become forgotten by all but their fans.
One album – “Give Daddy The Knife, Cindy” - was issued under the name and, unlike XTC’s efforts, consisted entirely of garage covers rather than pastiches. Their take on Electric Prunes “I Had Too Much To Dream” was released as a single, and its essentially a slightly harsher version with various bits of Damned theatrics tacked on to it. At the time, no doubt it helped to bring these tracks to a broader audience, but it’s hard to imagine why anyone would reach for this version over the original these days.
25. The Wake - Talk About The Past (Factory)
Peak position: 20
The Wake don’t do much to escape the criticism that they were heavily influenced by New Order and Joy Division here, but here they do at least demonstrate how much better they’d become at it, with a new-found groove and swagger entering “Talk About The Past”. It’s a gentle, twittering meander through post-punk rather than exhibiting bold choruses, but the confidence is palpable.
27. Sunglasses After Dark – Morbid Silence (Anagram)
Peak position: 27
Week Two
19. The Orson Family - No-One Waits Forever (New Rose)
Peak position: 16
If psychobilly and goth rock felt like two distinct subgenres, The Orson Family popped in to include both tribes in their rock and roll party, combining bleak lyricism and depressive, doomy vocals with hyper rock and roll parody. The hiccoughing, overwrought “No-One Waits Forever” involves gun suicide as well as an anthemic chorus, combining the atmosphere of sicko novelty discs like “I Want My Baby Back” with the new movements.
27. Fallen Angels - Amphetamine Blue (Fallout)
Peak position: 27
28. The Sting-Rays - Escalator (Big Beat)
Peak position: 17
Klub Foot regulars The Sting-Rays, on the other hand, combined Garage Rock and Psychobilly, so the goths could leave the room and let the mods step into the place.
“Escalator” is a scratchy, agitated, twangy bit of pop which even contains phasing, so great is their dedication to the sixties era. It’s faithful but somehow lacks the distorted, overblown drive of the genuine article, preferring to gently stroll through the paisley undergrowth.
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Number One In The National Charts
Lionel Richie: "Hello" (Motown)
The "different colours/different creeds" element is interesting given Martin Gore's later discovery, aged 30, that his biological father was an African-American GI.
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