NOTE: The photographs included here were taken after watching the film a second time, so they are only here to illustrate certain points and do not relate to the first viewing of the film, because apart from taking photos, a meteorite could have fallen on my head and I wouldn’t have noticed.
PART 1
‘Thump-thump, tsss, thump-thump, tsss…’
I drive the few kilometres that separate me from work to the multiplex cinema near my home, but in reality, this beat has been tormenting me for several days.
It comes out of the car radio and booms from the speakers.
‘Thump-thump, tsss, thump-thump, tsss…’
In fact, it had always tormented me, ever since I first heard this record. A slowed-down heart, pumping.
One, two, pause. Tsss.
This cavernous sound invites you to enter a dark forest, a dark record, until the bass takes you by the hand and draws you in completely.
This is not an easy album. Every time you listen to it, it’s a deep journey into yourself, and you have to be prepared. Even more so tonight.
I park the car, wait for my friends Alessia and Marco to arrive, and then we go to eat something before seeing the film. The tension is palpable, despite the excellent Emilian cuisine that should at least fill the hole in my stomach. I struggle to eat a plate of pasta with pesto, and even though I chat with Alessia, inside me I still hear that “Tump-tump. Tsss”.
We finish eating and return to the cinema. We validate our tickets, my friends have a coffee, and we walk towards screen number 12. We are sitting comfortably. Mum is not well and couldn’t come with us.
I’m distressed. I laugh and joke, but I still feel that darkness inside me, that anxiety that pervades me like an electric shock.
After 25 endless minutes of advertisements and trailers, the film begins.
The outro of “Speak to Me” picks up speed and the tape machines create reverb upon reverb.
They distort the sound more and more, in a crescendo that seems to lift you off the ground and take you to another dimension, to a sensory short circuit where you can no longer think about anything because your brain has too much information to process…. And then…
‘Tump-tump, tsss, tump-tump, tsss…’
We witness the classic warm-up of our heroes: the hardest possible high-five to cheer themselves on, but not too hard so as not to hurt the delicate hands of Martin, our beloved angelic strummer who conjures spells from his six strings; Dave, our Strongest Man in the Universe, who beats his chest like Tarzan and stretches, ready to take the audience at the Foro Sol in Mexico City into his hands.
They climb the stairs and are on stage. The audience explodes.
I continue to feel my heart beating strongly and thank my rational side for stopping me from running away from this place, making me use my brain for something useful.
I listen to “My Cosmos is Mine” and reflect on the fact that many people consider this opening track to be inferior to those that opened previous tours. I don’t think so. I believe that every album has its own theme, and consequently so does every corresponding tour. How can you introduce an album that talks about death? Certainly not with an up-tempo song. It has to be something with a severe, cadenced rhythm.
What a dichotomy in this song. On the one hand, an invitation to enter into the spirit of the album and, on the other, the most total defence of one’s convictions. A need to re-establish control and reject interference in one’s life from an increasingly senseless world. It is not a rejection of death, which is the fate of us all, but of “senseless death”:
The one that comes from war… And in hindsight, Fletch’s, which, although medically explainable, is difficult to accept on an emotional level.
How can you emotionally accept that void on stage? I still haven’t fully accepted it now, let alone before.
Wagging Tongue’ begins and confirms to me once again that this album needs to be listened to several times to be internalised and understood. At first, I didn’t appreciate it that much, but little by little I learned to love it, perhaps also thanks to the video that struck me so much. The Kraftwerk-esque intro opens the curtain on the story of the construction of the new relationship between Dave and Martin, now that Andy is no longer there to act as ambassador. This song still fills me with sadness today, but I try to see the light at the end of the tunnel provided by the ending of the video: the beginning of a dialogue, aided by the music that has always united them, even in the most difficult moments.
With “It’s No Good”, the “feel good” moment begins, and finally I can breathe more easily. In fact, I feel like I can finally dance in peace, enjoying a song that I will never stop saying I absolutely adore.
Soon, however, one thing becomes clear to me: there is something missing on stage. And no, it’s not Fletch, who is obviously missing.
It’s something more subtle, which perhaps only I notice. Although everything is going swimmingly on a musical level (although it’s impossible to judge as it’s a live recording that has been post-produced, mixed, etc.), there’s a strange atmosphere on stage: extreme concentration, very controlled movements.
Anyone who saw the 2024 tour live will understand exactly what I’m talking about.
Dave and Martin are tentative with each other, perhaps still focused on putting on the show without Fletch, aware that there is a huge void behind them. The playfulness that would be seen on the next tour or other tours is not there yet, and it’s understandable: they have just reappeared in the arena without a part of themselves, and they need to find a balance.
‘Is that all you do?’ Dave joked with Andy as Andy turned his knobs on the synths, but he knew it wasn’t all he did. What he did was often unseen, but that didn’t make it any less important, quite the contrary.
“Everything Counts” is the timeless song that always makes me think how ahead of their time our loved ones were in the 1980s, and it still holds up today, especially considering the crassness of today’s “music”, made up of copy-paste on a DAW, copy-paste on lyrics, copy-paste on “aesthetics” (such as tattoos and asses sticking out).
We are in the Twilight Zone, and all the numbers 12 look alike.
I note with great pleasure that in this film there are many shots both on stage and from above, which allow us not only to see our heroes from a different, more intimate perspective, but also to see and appreciate the instruments used by Martin and Peter. I don’t know how to thank the director for deciding to include these points of view and, at this moment, the very tender shot of Martin playing the refrain ‘Tiritin tin tin tin – tin tiinnnn’ with his little fingers painted with black nail polish like a child trying out a piano for the first time.
Kawaii level: Devastating, worse than kitten videos.
After the a cappella stadium chant, in which Dave turns the microphone stand towards the audience and hands over his role to us, the song ends.
Peter’s bass fills the space again and it’s time for ‘My Favourite Stranger’.
I read some time ago in a somewhat tongue-in-cheek blog (which is my guilty pleasure when it comes to metal music and its absurdities) that ‘My Favourite Stranger’ is a song that never takes off. Well, maybe it’s not supposed to take off?
It saddens me a little that so many people are always looking for a hit from Depeche Mode, a stadium anthem that even the sheep would repeat.
‘My Favourite Stranger’ doesn’t have a real chorus sung with a human voice. The song’s strength lies in Martin’s solos, which represent the culmination of paranoia with a sonic explosion that interrupts the deliberate repetition of the verses.
The use of drones on stage allows us to explore the oppressive feel of this song even more: Dave wanders restlessly around the stage with his hands in his hair, as if he were completely prey to these inner voices and unable to find an outlet, a way out.
A brief moment of pause and then… Disaster.
The electronic intro to “Sister of Night” makes me explode in an exasperated sigh. I didn’t think they would put it in the film because I couldn’t remember the exact date of this concert. A quick glance at my phone confirms it: March 2023.
Oh shit. The 2023 set list.
I look at my friend Alessia, take her hand again and say, “No Maria, I’m leaving.” (It’s an italian catchphrase) I’m not ready for such emotional violence.
Is Martin singing it? No, Dave is singing it.
Right, fuck me. My feeling of pure despair goes from 10 to 100 in a matter of seconds, thinking about the sequence of events that led to the creation of this song:
A skinny, exhausted Dave, consumed by heroin. His voice destroyed, recorded in multiple takes because he no longer had the strength to sing.
Martin’s subsequent invitation to return to Los Angeles and recover a little.
The subsequent overdose.
And now, this wonderful man, this Phoenix risen from the ashes, moving his arms as if they were wings set alight by the eternal fire of rebirth and passion, takes on an intimate, reserved tone. His voice and face still betray the fear of those moments, now long gone. His body language is more timid, his left hand resting on his chest as if to express his sincerity and how this song particularly touches him, as if he could really talk to this “sister”.
Seeing Dave with his head hanging down, his hands touching the ground as he bends over with his legs apart, is an experience that struck me deeply. The way he seeks protection, shelter. I feel like I’m invading a private moment, and I’m sorry. But I thank whoever filmed this moment, because I love to see Dave the man beyond Dave the front man, and in this moment he appears in all his sensitivity, without the theatrical component of his stage performance.
“Speak to Me” is one of my favourite songs. I love its confidential tone, in which the machines occasionally peep through, until they take over in the exceptional, explosive finale.
I always thought that this song represented a kind of dialogue with Martin, his emotional alter ego, the different page of the same book, as he says. I came to this conclusion after hearing Dave say in an interview that he had expressed his doubts to Martin about continuing with Depeche Mode, and that he had agreed to work on a new album on the condition that there be a real dialogue between the two of them. In my opinion, this song was proof of that discussion that took place even before Fletch’s death. I still believe this, but listening to the lyrics again, a second interpretation came to mind about the Higher Entity to which Dave was referring.
What if this Higher Entity were Music?
I make a mental note to come back to this line of reasoning later, because the film isn’t waiting for me and my cerebral discussions. Dave moves around the stage to the beat, which becomes faster and more rhythmic, moving his arms as if they were wings or as if he were conducting the orchestra of machines below him, until he comes to a halt when the music ends abruptly.
Arms open. A crucifix like the ones we see on the big screen behind him. A full stop.
Time to think about how to continue after the end of the album, with its disruptive closing in which everything falls silent, and then comes the moment of extreme sweetness with “Soul with Me”, from the series: “We haven’t finished suffering yet”.
Martin walks onto the catwalk and sings with all his soul and his angelic voice an extremely sweet song, except that, coming from Martin’s pen, it talks about leaving this world.
You’ll have to step over my dead body, Martin Lee Gore.
Seeing Martin sing is always a mesmerising experience. I can’t take my eyes off his posture, the way he curls up to reach some high notes, with so much concentration that you can even see it in his hand, the way it contracts and relaxes.
No frills, just piano accompaniment, and every time he gives a breathtaking performance, without a single flaw.
He ends the song by playing an imaginary piano with his left hand, and as always, it’s impressive how every gesture he makes has infinite sweetness. The audience explodes in ovation and he, still with his angelic sweetness, thanks the audience and bows.
This man’s humility… I’m speechless. It’s one of the reasons I hold him in the palm of my hand. How many stars, especially of this calibre, express themselves with such kindness? Very few.
A complete change of tone and we have two hit singles, which I don’t particularly like, so I relax in my armchair and just listen to “A pain that I’m used to” and “Wrong” in a somewhat superficial way.
One chord and I am swallowed up again by the emotional abyss.
“Stripped”
Yearning. That’s what I feel every time I listen to this song. I always feel as if the ground has been pulled out from under my feet, a warmth I haven’t felt since the ice age, as if I were wrapped in chains that I cannot break and cannot escape…
I wish I had someone to run away with, but instead the only thing that makes me escape is music, and that’s more than fine, but sometimes it’s not enough.
What’s it like to go back into the woods and lie down on the grass? How does a kiss taste? Who remembers anymore?
What is it like to have someone who loves you?
I sing this song as if it were a prayer to a Higher Being. Please, let me experience this again. Please. Let me return to the Magical City where so many things happened and every second was a new discovery… Pull me out of this greyness…
The song ends and I hope the torment ends too… But no.
The memory knows how to erase what hurts too much.
The surprise and happiness of seeing an old dot matrix printer and hearing its beloved “tatatatata” sound as the needle moves back and forth and a beautiful face begins to appear on the paper is not enough.
First crazy spikes in all directions… Then glasses and eyes that are all too familiar. Beautiful lips.
Fletch.
“World in my eyes” resounds from the cinema’s sound system and it feels like someone is physically ripping my heart out of my chest. It hurts. It hurts so much.
Dave and Martin sing ‘Let me show you the world through my eyes’ and I think of all the eyes that are looking at the world on Andy’s behalf. He looks at us from the big screen, and we look at Dave and Martin for him.
A sea of sheets of paper with his face printed on them in the audience, and it almost feels like he’s there.
It’s too much. I burst into such violent sobs that I bend over to protect myself from the overwhelming emotions I’m feeling. Alessia puts her hand on my back, and for a while I stay like that, sobbing and crying, grateful that at least the sound of the audio makes my crying inaudible.
Andy Fletcher: 8 July 1961 – 22 May 2022.
After crying my heart out, Depeche Mode’s true anthem, “Enjoy the Silence”, begins, which always amazes me like a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces fall into place at the first attempt. There is not a single comma out of place in this song…
Actually, there is one, this time. A huge one.
The automatic translation that the distributor used to avoid using a human translator because who needs us when AI knows everything and we are poor idiots wasting our time learning a language in all its nuances.
This AI translates “Mr. Martin” as “raise”, and then, probably not understanding what comes next, adds a “this” which, for some reason, might make sense in terms of placement, instead of “Mr. Martin, L, Gore”, which any human translator worthy of the name would understand without any problems, and even if they did have problems understanding, they would look for similar material to clear up any doubts.
God, how it pisses me off, and I’ve practically let everyone I know know about it. You’ve ruined one of my all-time favourite songs, congratulations. I’m left with a grimace on my face and my arms crossed until the end, firm in my indignation.
Usually there would be a break here, but since it’s a film, it’s been removed, so we continue with “Condemnation”.
Dave and Martin reach the end of the catwalk and Dave begins his confession, which is actually Martin blaming Dave for not blaming himself for all the debauchery of that time.
The difference between Martin’s and Dave’s singing is quite noticeable. Dave was corrected in post-production to fill in some gaps, but “Condemnation” is an extremely difficult song, so it’s understandable.
I read some time ago that even back in the Devotional days, when Dave’s voice was deteriorating more and more, both due to drugs and the fatigue of a very long tour, ‘Condemnation’ had been lowered by a semitone to allow Dave to reach the higher notes. This was stated directly by Alan on his website, in the Q&A section.
I enjoy listening to “Condemnation”, which I find to be a beautiful song, albeit a little unusual for DM. It’s a bit difficult to tie it into a before and after, it only fits in “Songs of Faith and Devotion” because of the theme of the album.
After “Condemnation” comes what I call “the moment of hiding in the car and reminiscing about better times”, and then it’s time to dance again. “Never Let Me Down Again” is such a powerful song, such a clear statement of intent that the album could well end there. Where do you go after a song like that? (The question I always ask myself when I think of ‘Music for the Masses’, such a HUGE title, by the way)
Of course, there are other gems (such as “Strangelove” and ‘Behind the Wheel’), but in my opinion, ‘Never Let Me Down Again’ is a peak from which there is no recovery.
After singing along at a volume compatible with the cinema (i.e. sotto voce), it’s time for the wheat field, and so as not to disturb the other spectators, I throw myself into a mini wheat field that looks more like a 1960s variety show dance routine choreographed by Don Lurio (an american coreographer who worked on Italian TV) than a wheat field. It’s the intention that counts. 😀
The time comes for the last song, “Personal Jesus”, and for everyone else the highlights are the famous riff and the famous line “Reach out and touch faith”. Not for me, as I’m a lit’s ok.ittle weirdo.
For me, it’s that last note, sustained before the electronic base kicks in.
That note…
With Dave crouched there next to Martin, listening to it and probably having the same mental orgasm I’m having.
(I understand you, Dave.)
The apotheosis.
Yes, I know, if you don’t understand, it’s oj.
‘Personal Jesus’ arrives with all its energy and the audience participates by singing the chorus at the top of their lungs. It’s impressive to think of 200,000 people singing the same thing, united in a single feeling of celebration and communion between different people who don’t know each other but have a common feeling, that yearning that unites all of us, lovers of Depeche Mode, seekers of good music and a place in the world.
The concert ends without much fanfare. We have a short outro (which I will discuss in the second part) and then the closing credits, “Ghosts Again” and “In the End”.
I remain seated, listening to both songs until the end, and on the one hand I am glad that the film is over, because I feel emotionally exhausted. Not only does it remind me of my first concert, where I was more overwhelmed by emotions than involved, but also of that strange feeling that I usually try to keep hidden, namely the actual consideration of how much these two people and their music mean to me in my life.
I don’t miss anyone else so much. It’s like a physical need… A need to interact with them, to see their creative process, to see them laugh and joke together… To see them living their lives after so many adversities.
A need for their music to make life livable.
I give in to sin
Because you have to make this life livable
I accompany Alessia and Marco to the car, and I hardly know what to say. My body has left that room, but my head is still there, trying to understand everything I had absorbed in that hour and a half.
I say a warm goodbye and postpone any exchange of opinions until the next day, because I can’t find the words.
I get in the car and drive home, still in a kind of trance. A hundred thousand thoughts are fighting each other in my head, and before leaving, I select “Speak to Me” from the car radio. That song had told me something else during the film, and I needed to understand.
What if that Supernatural Entity Dave refers to is Music?
Speak to me, and I will follow
I heard you call my name
Lying on the bathroom floor
No one here to blame
There’s a message I know can be found
I’m listening, I hear you, your sound
Speak to me in a language
That I can understand
Tell me that you’re listening
Give me some kind of plan
Give me something, you’d be my drug of choice
You lead me, I follow your voice
I will disappoint you
I will let you down
I need to know
You’re here with me
Turn it all around
I’d be grateful, I’d follow you ‘round
I’m listening, I’m here now, I’m found
I was driving and at the same time thinking that yes, it must be music (and in his case also Martin). What other entity makes life livable? What other entity makes sense when nothing makes sense?
I could write about how much of what is written in this text has also been part of my past, but I will refrain from doing so.
There are so many things I cannot understand, and so many that I am missing that sometimes I feel like I am wandering aimlessly, without a compass, completely alone.
‘What is the meaning of life? The sense?’ I ask myself as I drive through the quiet streets. As the tape machines start making their reverb again, I think for a moment that I could be in the DeLorean from ‘Back to the Future’ and I could go back in time to change things…
“Are you forever looking back
At the past between the cracks?
Inventing sense when none is at
Throwing sparks into the black‘
-Or go into the future, and see how and when all this will end…
Instead, I find myself still here in the present, and the only thing I can ask myself is:
’Looking for a sign
A light to guide the blind
To save us from our death throes
Where did all the time go?‘
Where did all this time go?
They don’t know either. A mere consolation, yet another confirmation of how much they feel the same emotions as us.
’We don’t know what the future holds,” I think as I park the car and open the front door.
However, there is one certainty.
Music will always be there, and, as long as fate allows, so will they.
‘I’m listening, I’m here now, I’m found.’
You’re no one, going nowhere
We’re all nothing in the end
We’re weightless, floating endlessly
We’ll be dust again in the end
Are you forever looking back
At the past between the cracks?
Inventing sense when none is at
Throwing sparks into the black
Heaven knows what’s underneath
I use these words without belief
Does heaven help you when you pray?
I don’t think so anyway
You’re no one, going nowhere
We’re all nothing in the end
We’re weightless, floating endlessly
We’ll be dust again in the end
These are complicated days
Chaos, confusion and decay
Black and white to endless grey
On the nights you laid awake
As the makeup gets applied
Seconds etching out the lines
All this emptiness inside
Nothing shiny or divine
You’re no one, going nowhere
We’re all nothing in the end
We’re weightless, floating endlessly
We’ll be dust again in the end
We’re waiting for the day
For hope to come our way
For something to believe in
To nullify this feeling
Looking for a sign
A light to guide the blind
To save us from our death throes
Where did all the time go?
You’re no one, going nowhere
We’re all nothing in the end
We’re weightless, floating endlessly
We’ll be dust again in the end.
Musica come Antidoto 
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