One week at number one on w/e 25th May 1985
Synth-pop had been a dominant presence in the singles chart through the early eighties, with everyone from old hands (Kraftwerk) to populist pioneers (Human League, OMD) to latecomers and shape-shifting chancers spilling hits out of their keyboards.
1984 felt as if it had been, primarily thanks to Trevor Horn, the year of the Fairlight, taking the original pulsing rinky-dink tunesmithery to a grander, more explosive level. By 1985, though, strange things had begun to brew and the revenge of the “proper musician” was afoot. Most of the successful synth acts either took breaks, or went slightly mad and/or began to go off the boil, becoming exposed to reduced album sales and less prominent singles chart positions.
The number ones of the year tell a tale of huge productions and big ballads from mature artists with synths only being used subtly in the mix. Honourable exceptions here are Dead or Alive, Midge Ure and Eurythmics, but even in the latter two cases there was a sense of a slick maturity emerging; more emotive and less artful and playful (in particular, Ure’s “If I Was” contained lyrics somewhere between a couple of snippets of “Your Song” and a twee romantic Athena poster poem. It certainly meant nothing to me, anyway). 1985 felt like the year all the heartbreak songs and wedding slow dance songs were created en masse, with Jennifer Rush’s “The Power Of Love” doing the platinum honours for biggest selling single of the year.
Numerous factors (including Live Aid) have been blamed for this wave of earnestness, but whatever the true reasons, Depeche Mode were catapulting a fresh single into a strangely unsympathetic marketplace. When they launched in 1981, tracks with synths were almost guaranteed some attention, no matter how quirky, gimmicky or even experimental they were. By 1985, nobody seemed to want plucky electronic bedroom stars; they wanted old-fashioned pop stars again with serious session players behind them. A few seasoned performers seemed to relish this situation. “I don’t like Spandau Ballet or Depeche Mode”, Mick Jagger archly sneered on television at the time, seemingly mistakenly believing them to be similar acts (or people who gave a shit what he thought).
It was in this environment that Depeche Mode released arguably one of their finest singles, only to see it slowly crawl up the bottom end of the Top 40 to an undeservingly low number 18 peak. This state of affairs is one reason why its seldom heard these days; another is that it was orphaned from a proper studio album, instead being one of the two fresh tracks on their compilation “Singles 81-85”, released later that autumn. Shorn of a surrounding conceptual environment and used only as a teaser track for fans who already owned most of the band’s work, it’s always looked a little lost among their other releases.
The single feels like the first time the band have managed to celebrate and combine all their strengths. The gentle breathy intro feels as if it’s borrowed some of the pop shine of “See You”, but after a few bars of that we’re treated to harsher metallic clangs (possibly from a shopping trolley?) in the background, a pulsing, grumbling bassline, and a melancholic, minimal two note synth line. This is followed by Gahan’s opening line “I’m not going down on my knees begging you to adore me”, which sounds rather too drastically lovelorn, almost worthy of Jennifer Rush, until the context becomes clear: “I’ve tried as hard as I could/ to make you see/ how important it is for me”. This isn’t desperation on his part – it’s exhaustion. The chorus is clearer still: “You know how hard it is for me/ to shake the disease/ that takes a hold of my tongue/ in situations like these”.
Melody Maker’s Caroline Sullivan was quick to stick the knife into the single for this reason alone, describing it as the sentiments of “football hooligans as sensitive wimps” in a tart review (do football hooligans usually wear make-up and leather in the manner of Martin Gore, I wonder?) Even if the ideas expressed left her cold, though, the song blankets itself in some of the most complex arrangements of their career. The melodies constantly find new ways to twist themselves around the central hook, dropping out and re-emerging again with new force and intricacy, flowering with every repetition of the chorus rather than letting matters settle. By the point of the outro, the song feels ambitiously busy but not breathless, fading just as all the ideas unite. Even the shopping trollies sound somehow romantic when they’re up close next to that bold cello sound.