Musica come Antidoto

I remember that day as if it were yesterday.

The lump in my throat and stomach, my buttocks tight as if I were standing on a tower looking down, down, down towards the earth so far below… All the way to the buildings in the distance, which looked like Lego bricks…

That’s how I felt, because the thought of what this meeting could be like gave me tachycardia, dizziness, the full service of anxiety.

My poor friend Claudio and the entire IPF (Italy Penguins Fans) must have heard me screaming all the way to Milan when this date was announced: 04.10.2022.

My heart was pounding out of my chest.

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Prologue:

A few months earlier, I and all the other Depeche Mode fans had received news that no one in the world would ever want to receive.

A dear friend of ours had died.

Andrew John Fletcher.

Now, anyone could say, ‘Parasitic relationship, delusion of a crazy fan who believes that band members owe us something because we spend our money on them and give them fame and without us they wouldn’t be who they are?

No.

I hate that kind of presumption, and I would never expect anything like that.

Andy Fletcher, however, was like a distant friend to us, the kind we all wanted to have, or at least the kind I wanted to have. He was the one who spoke for you when you didn’t want to, and who defended you from any nonsense or criticism by taking the piss out of those who offended you with typical British humour full of sarcasm, irony and wordplay without batting an eyelid.

He was the friend who would always defend you because he genuinely cared about you.

When Andy passed away, I spent several hours in shock. I remember reading a tweet from someone on Twitter, and from there a wave of intense anxiety hit me like a fire. It wasn’t a panic attack, but it wasn’t far off.

I started looking for other tweets for confirmation, praying with all my might that it was just another hoax. The internet is full of fake news, and since the dawn of time there have been rumours about celebrities being reported dead when they were alive and well.

When I read the official confirmation, I felt as if something inside me was leaving me. Something I had always taken for granted was suddenly gone. I felt a sense of emptiness around me, as if the chair I was sitting in no longer supported me, as if what I was feeling was so incomprehensible that my flat seemed almost alien to me. I was there, but I wasn’t there.

Have any of you ever seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer? The famous episode “The Body”?

Well, that’s exactly how it was. Outside, life went on, and I wandered around the flat like an automaton, without any will of my own. It was the first stage of grief, the shock. I had already experienced it with other people, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

(Transl: Andrew Fletcher died, and I feel dead too.)

From the next day onwards, I alternated between feelings of sadness and shame for quite some time. Sadness because someone who had meant so much to me had suddenly passed away, and shame because the thought of what would happen to Depeche Mode without him gave me no peace.

‘Aren’t you ashamed?’ the voice in my head kept repeating. ‘Thinking about something so venal when Dave and Martin have just lost a friend, especially Martin? You don’t even know why he died, he’s still warm and you’re thinking these things?’

That was the anger.

It’s true. I was so ashamed of asking myself this question, but the thought wouldn’t leave my head. Images from two decades flashed through my mind like a film: from the first time I saw the video for “Barrel of a Gun”, to the car in “Dream On”, to a patio in Berlin for “Playing the Angel”, then through darkness, pain, newspaper clippings announcing the new tour, and then the new tour… And I kept watching from afar, resigned to the fact that I would never heal and would never see them live.

I would never see Andrew live.

Depression.

Fuck depression. Fuck fuck fuck.

The cycle of ‘Anger / Bargaining / Depression’ went on for quite a while. I alternated between moments of anger, wondering why, with all the scum that live in this world, God had taken him, our dear Andy. Then I would get angry with myself for giving in to this illness, and then the depression would return, telling me that what was done was done, that Andy would not come back, nor would my lost years.

The only thing that gave me peace was the disclosure of his autopsy. He had died in his sleep and had not suffered. At least that.

It was time for acceptance.

The following months passed in respectful silence. The question remained there, hanging in the air.

Until, one day in August, a sweet, tentative announcement appeared out of nowhere:

(Transl: Thank you for these beautiful words! It’s just what I needed right now. Andy is watching you from Above!)

Just a few words, but they warmed my heart.

Of course, now, with hindsight, that’s how I feel, but the first time I read this post, I think I exploded into an “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God”.

So they’re working on a new album??? Oh my God, what wonderful news! (I remind you that I had been following DM from afar for a long time, as just before a year prior to this date I was in my fifth hospitalisation and therefore was definitely busy just surviving).

The old doubt was immediately replaced by a new one. Okay, they were going to release a new album and that made me the happiest person in the world, but then what would happen?

It was an album that had already been started. Would they finish it and then break up? Would they go on tour? Without Andy?

The very idea seemed like blasphemy to me. Removing or changing one of the founding members of a band is always painful and takes a long time to accept, and this was no exception, especially because of such an unfortunate event.

Depeche Mode had continued without Alan, but in my opinion, this situation was different.

Have you ever tried to join an already established group and felt like you were one person too many, faced with old customs, friendships or memories? That’s what I think is the case with Alan: a person who joined a group but never fully became part of it. Alan always seemed to me to be a sort of “additional member” of the band, a genius who had had a formal musical education, unlike Dave, Martin and Andy, and who also came from a different, more middle-class background (West London). Unfortunately, over time, the differences, instead of diminishing, grew, along with other aspects that made the situation even worse, and it is completely understandable that Alan wanted to step back.

When I think of Alan, I imagine a magnificent instrument that lent itself to the name Depeche Mode. For me, he represents perfection, technique, cold machines and boundless talent, and it’s a shame that he distanced himself from the world of music, but I understand him a little. Unfortunately, I am also a perfectionist, and I spend hours writing, deleting and rewriting. You have no idea how mentally exhausting it is.

(NOTE, BEFORE YOU LYNCH ME: In case it wasn’t clear enough, I love Alan to bits, I have erotic dreams about him teaching me to play the piano or some synth, but I respect the choice he made. He’s a human being and it’s his business how he wants to live his life.)

Andy, on the other hand, is something different.

Everything and more has been said about him and his contribution to the band, and I don’t want this to be a post-mortem defence, but I want to mention a couple of things that many people don’t know or take for granted.

In over 40 years with Depeche Mode, his presence has been fundamental, no matter what some people say about him. Can you imagine Dave, Martin or Alan doing the accounting and promoting the band? They would have all run away before hearing a single syllable.

In any business, there is always a need for someone who stays behind the scenes and makes sure that all the boring but necessary things get done. That’s my job, and it was also Fletch’s job, and it was no less important than all the musical work that Dave, Martin and Alan did.

Let’s remember that thanks to Daniel Miller’s trust and Andy’s managerial work, Depeche Mode maintained a high degree of independence from the music industry and were able to freely create their sound without interference from above. If they had turned to another management company and another record label, they would certainly have set limits to make them more accessible to the public, and today we would certainly not have Depeche Mode, period.

So, whether you agree or not, Andy also contributed to creating this dark and velvety dream, this music and these words that made so many people feel part of something that mattered. Andy had helped create Depeche Mode with Vince, he was part of the gang of friends even before the band, and I just couldn’t see a tour without him… Without his imposing figure behind the keyboards, with the swag of his colourful glasses and that aura of reliability he gave off.

The biggest fan of his own band.

‘Is that all you can do?’ Dave would ask him jokingly, teasing him affectionately. The classic cat and dog duo. In reality, he knew very well that it wasn’t just what he did, but much more.

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So: How could there be a hole back there? No one could fill that hole. Not because of musical talent like Alan, but because of the person Fletch was. You saw him and you knew everything would be fine, because he was there to manage the band, and above all to try to get Dave and Martin to communicate in some way, or rather to take Martin’s place, which understandably drove Dave crazy. In general, he was the guarantee of balance between the two sides.

Now, however, he wasn’t in this photo, but there was something else instead.

In this ocean of doubt, a distant light appeared on the horizon.

Dave and Martin were now in the studio together. They were working together.

Some scholars add a further stage to the stages of grief (there are several models): Hope.

At that moment, I felt it, still faintly: Hope.

That photo gave me a feeling of calm, as if everything was in its place. Dave and Martin close to each other, Martin explaining something to Dave and Dave thinking about it.

I don’t know why, but it gave me the impression of a new closeness, despite the difficult moment.

Had it finally happened? After decades of misunderstandings, including the famous argument during the recording of Spirit in which James Ford exiled everyone from the studio, including Fletch, to make them talk face to face like normal people?

‘Ist wieder zusammen ,was zusammengehörte?’

And there it was again: another wave of shame.

‘Aren’t you ashamed to think such a thing? That it took Andy’s death to make them get along once and for all?’

And I replied, ‘What the fuck! Of course I’d like to have both, but it’s not possible!!! At least this tragedy has brought something good.’

There was no way to silence that voice.

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The days passed, slowly, slowly. The question was always there, becoming more pressing every day.

‘What would happen now? Was there a future for Depeche Mode?’

I was getting more and more nervous every day, clenching my buttocks, hoping for some news, whatever it might be, that would take away this doubt.

On 04.10.2022, this announcement appeared and that was it, I couldn’t contain my nervousness anymore. ‘One month to go?!?!? How the hell am I going to wait a month!!!!’

(Transl: Ok, now I’m really getting agitated / freaking out!!!!!)

At that time, I wasn’t part of any Depeche Mode Facebook groups, so the only thing I could do was vent to my hockey friend Claudio, who, unfortunately for him and fortunately for me, was the only one in our hockey group with similar tastes to mine.

A few days later, definitive confirmation arrived.

I took it with great aplomb, as you can read.

(Transl: We have to be there!!!!)

After an initial scream that miraculously didn’t shatter the windows of the house, my brain reconnected and went back to reread that word, of course.

Berlin.

They’re in Berlin.

Of course they are.

Within two seconds, the same old refrain starts up again in my head, followed by anger about why I’m not there, why I can’t go there, all the insults in the world, etc., etc. Then I think that, in the end, it makes sense.

I ‘d challenge anyone to find a city that is more in tune with the spirit of this group. It has always been the embodiment of freedom to experiment, with oneself and with others; a city brought by history to be a giant laboratory where art could be born on every street corner, hidden in certain periods (Nazi/East Berlin) and in the open in others (the 1920s, West Berlin).

From Hansa Studio against the Wall, from the sense of the end of the known world in front of the wall and the emptiness of Potsdamer Platz, the sounds of metal and concrete emanated from a city still under reconstruction after the war. From the post-war ruins of Shoreditch, London, to the post-war ruins of West Berlin, Germany, new cutting-edge technologies such as synthesizers mingled with the echoes of a Großer Saal of bygone times. Thanks also to the special status of the city of West Berlin, determined by the occupation of the three Western powers (Britain, France and the USA), which exempted citizens from compulsory military service, there was no better place for all the artists fleeing the petty bourgeoisie of the Federal Republic of Germany. The presence of the armies of the three powers ensured a continuous contamination between foreign artists who came to perform in the city, the last bastion of freedom in the face of communism, and local artists, who absorbed these influences and incorporated them into their art.

Berlin was a complex and creative city, and that’s why Depeche Mode’s music at that time was more complex and creative than we ever got from the band. It was also before all the mess that would start with the creation of “Music for the Masses” (which then culminated in the definitive explosion of “Violator” and the subsequent self-destruction of “Songs of Faith and Devotion”).

Berlin was a happy place, where everything was still possible and the pressures had not yet become overwhelming. That’s why I believe this city will always have a special place in their hearts, especially in Martin’s, who lived here for a couple of years. Even though the city has changed a lot now, it still remains a place of artistic experimentation, and continues to resist, albeit with difficulty, to increasing gentrification and the push towards conformity.

I think about how much they have seen Berlin change each time they visited, and how much I have seen it change myself.

God, how I want to go back. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to.

Sorry for yet another digression.

Three days pass at a snail’s pace. The thought is constant, overwhelming I would say. My brain was buzzing with questions.

‘What will they say? ‘What does it mean? ‘What kind of event will it be?

A thousand hypotheses, until that fateful evening.

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04.10.2022:

I am tuned in.

A breathtaking sequence. All kinds of equipment: amps, compressors, guitars, Martin’s studio full of modular synthesizers, which is my idea of what paradise should be like (a studio like this plus cats), microphones everywhere, old pianos and organs, cables, cables, cables, pedals, pedals, pedals, mixers, tape machines.

It’s my personal porn category.

Dave and Martin. Dave and Martin. Marta Salogni, James Ford.

Dave playing one of Martin’s Gretschs.

Something is happening. Is everything coming full circle?

‘Ist wieder zusammen ,was zusammengehörte?’

There’s something strange about this trailer. The atmosphere is sombre at first, but then, gradually, it becomes more… Hopeful? There is also another energy that is now undeniable: a connection between Dave and Martin that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before in my life. Okay, there’s always been that je ne sais quoi between them, but now it seems like something different… A greater complicity?

Wait, Ale, let’s not jump to conclusions.

A beautiful theatre, steeped in history: Das Theater am Schiffbauerdamm, the historic building of the Berliner Ensemble (although you can’t see it at the moment because the lights are off).

And…

The sight makes me feel like I’m going to be sick.

Three chairs:

One on the presenter’s side.

Two chairs.

On the side of our loved ones.

Two chairs.

Not three.

Two.

Two.

My stomach clenches like a vice. Something inside me screams, “ That’s wrong! That’s wrong! Add another chair!!!” and it takes several minutes before my brain slowly tells me, as if talking to a child, “ There will never be a third chair again.”

Silence.

I slump down in my chair. I have to accept it.

From now on, there will only be two chairs, and I pray to God that at least he keeps Dave and Martin as healthy as possible, because I don’t know how I could take another pain like this again.

All this time spent thinking about two chairs and I almost didn’t notice the two figures who came on stage: Marek Lieberberg, director of Live Nation’s German subsidiary, ‘Live Nation GmbH’, and author, publicist and great friend of the band, Barbara Charoun.

Our two dear friends are introduced and enter the stage with some caution.

Poor things, I can’t imagine how they’re feeling right now, without their safety net, the press conference expert. They greet the audience and smile. I feel enormous tenderness towards them. Martin uses the oldest trick in the book, making a joke about Barbara being a big fan of Chelsea football club (like the dear, late Fletch) and how that changes things between them. Dave goes along with it, exclaiming how wonderful this theatre is, and she, of course, agrees. It’s majestic.

In short, ice-breaking 101.

Barbara reads a short introduction, in which it is explicitly stated that Berlin is home to many fond memories for DM, and you see, I was right!!! Excuse me, a brief interruption for a little victory dance.

Continuing. Let’s get back to business.

We are given a brief overview of the development timeline for this album, and then Martin is given the floor. Martin doesn’t even know where to start (and who can blame him?), Dave looks at him with his usual heart-shaped eyes as if to give him strength, they have one of their conversations looking into each other’s eyes, a laugh, and then Martin speaks.

He draws confidence from the aspect he is most familiar with, namely the recording process. Factual, precise.

The floor is given to Dave, who talks about what it was like to be back in the studio. He and Martin look at each other and continue their telepathic conversation, and Dave talks about how well they worked together and how they started writing years ago.

I really like this presenter’s style. She waits for them to finish talking, asks a question and lets them discuss freely, which is a rarity these days.

Her question about the start of the recording is very delicate, full of tact. It’s the first time Andy is mentioned.

My stomach clenches.

Dave’s body language speaks for itself: he keeps stroking the fabric of his trousers, a way of calming himself down. I can’t imagine how painful it is for him to talk about this, and in fact he returns to talking about the process of creating the album, how he and Martin sent each other song drafts, and here we see the human side of Dave Gahan that is sometimes hidden from us, talking about how he sent something thrown together badly on the guitar or singing on his iPhone and then Martin sent it back to him sung with his ‘beautiful angelic voice’ and other added pieces.

Dave, my dear:

A) You need to value yourself a little more, darling, really. (Look who’s talking)

B) Praising Martin Gore is like drinking water for Dave Gahan: inevitable.

I have that feeling again that I had when watching the trailer for this event: on the one hand, you can clearly see that both are very tense, as it is their first public appearance alone since Fletch’s death, but there is also an undeniable complicity. The fact that their chairs are not placed parallel to each other, but in an arched shape, allows them to create an almost intimate space, and at many moments it almost seems as if they are talking to each other, as if no one else were present in the theatre. They take turns speaking to each other with such naturalness that it seems as if they are communicating telepathically.

The interviewer’s intervention breaks this bubble of intimacy, and she asks about the album title.

Martin replies: MEMENTO MORI.

What a heavy title. I don’t know what to think. Memento mori in memory of Fletch, or Memento mori in memory of Depeche Mode?

The rumination starts again. Alessia, remain calm and continue listening.

They both talk about the meaning of the title and how it’s not just something macabre, but a reminder to live life as fully as possible, because one day we won’t be here anymore, and it’s also a warning to remain humble, to put our egos in check, because everyone, regardless of our circumstances in life, will die one day. Then, following Andy’s death, the title took on an additional meaning.

Dave continues his explanation by illustrating how, for him, and he assumes for us too, songs take on different meanings depending on how you feel, on what is happening in the world. As an example, he explains that now, for them, Dave and Martin, when they find themselves talking and joking during the making of the album, they feel that Fletch is missing, because no one joins in their conversations the way he did. It’s the things you take for granted that you miss, Dave concludes. Martin fully agrees, recalling how he didn’t really notice his absence when they were working in his home studio, but then, when they returned to Berlin, to a hotel where they had always stayed, his absence hit him hard.

After this discussion, Barbara turns to the audience and drops a bombshell: she talks about what the next tour for this album will be.

Wait… A tour? A tour?

Alessia, count to 10. Count to 100. Breathe. Breathe. Wait. Get to the end of this thing and then you can explode in peace.

Dave explains that they are still finishing the album and have only come here to explain the situation a little. They still have to think about how to integrate the old songs with the new ones. We can’t see Martin’s face, but from what the interviewer says, ‘I see, Martin, that you’re very excited?!’ , he’s probably having one of his moments of emotional constipation at not having everything ready and in order the way he wants it.

After Martin recovers from the organisational shock, both he and Dave talk about the pleasure and honour of playing in such big venues, and Dave reiterates how much of a pleasure it has been to work on this album with Martin (AAAAAWWWWW :3, he just can’t help himself, dear), James Ford and Marta…. (Dave’s moment of panic!)

Martin: Salogni!

Dave: HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! (Imagine his face cracking up with laughter 😀 )

Martin: Hehehe! (More restrained)

Barbara and Martin continue to discuss football while Dave, poor thing, doesn’t understand why everyone is looking past him. He’s a such a little child!

He turns around and behind him is a poster with a list of all the dates. He says he sensed a change in the energy of the room—

—IF THEY’RE LIKE ME, THEY’RE ALL ABOUT TO START SCREAMING—

And then they continue to talk about sports, football for Martin and basketball for Dave. Chit-chat.

It’s time for questions from the audience and, honestly, I find some of them a bit unpleasant, especially considering that they just said they’re still putting the finishing touches on the album and still have to plan the whole live part. Fortunately, despite some awkwardness, Dave and Martin always find the strength to laugh it off (like the question about Unplugged and Fletch’s presence judging them from above), but I’m sure that as soon as Barbara announced the end of the meeting, they breathed a sigh of relief.

As a first outing, it’s more than enough. The important thing was to get it done.

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The live stream ends. I don’t even know where to begin to explain my emotions.

The album is almost finished and will be released soon. That alone is a lot, considering the adversity they’ve had to face… But will there be a tour? A tour?

Does that mean… I could see them live? Really?

Finally?

After all these years?

Wow.

My other voice, the mean one, the one that never spares me anything, immediately kicks in. “There will be loads of people. You won’t be able to move. It will be hot. You’ll feel sick, sick, and you’ll go mental again. Where will you end up if you feel sick?” It taunts me relentlessly, and I would usually let it win, because I would be too scared to question it, considering everything that had happened in the past…

… But not this time.

Another voice, calm and resolute, makes its way through the chaos of the other. ‘You haven’t had a panic attack in years. Since you started taking this new medicine, you’ve been fine, you don’t have mood swings anymore. Go, it’s time. Do it for Andy.’

‘Do it for Andy.’

I felt something enveloping me like a hug. I felt safe. Is that you?

I’ll do it for you, Andy.

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Epilogue.

16 July 2023. Dall’Ara Stadium, Bologna.

38 degrees in the sun.

The time has finally come.

Dave and Martin take to the stage, in the flesh, as handsome and talented as I always imagined them to be. They have finally emerged from the two-dimensionality of music magazines to appear in all their glorious flesh and blood.

Only one spirit fluttered there, among the clouds. He wasn’t physically on stage, but you could feel his presence in the air.

He was in the words of the people calling his name, and in the eyes that looked at the world for him.

He was on that big screen in the beauty of his youth, and I’m sure there wasn’t a single dry eye in the whole stadium.

He was in the hearts of Dave and Martin, who were watching him with us, and who knows what they were thinking at that moment, about how many life experiences they had shared together.

He was in mine, and he had given me back the strength I had lost.

Memento Mori. From that stage at the Dall’Ara Stadium,

Thank you, Andy, for everything.