Depeche Mode

So, first of all, imagine a concert at the San Siro stadium. Then, imagine a Depeche Mode concert. Then put the two together. If the idea of stadium-sized crowds or chart-friendly synth-pop doesn't send you running for the hills, this live report is all for you.

The sheer spectacle of the two events mentioned above finds its match in what happened on 18 June, namely the return to Italy of Dave Gahan, Martin Gore and Andy Fletcher, right at Milan's Stadio Meazza, the second Italian date (after the one at Rome's Olimpico) of their "Tour of the Universe 2009".

Not that the news itself was in any way sensational: for almost twenty years now Depeche Mode have been a band of worldwide fame and reach, the kind that stirs up thirsty hordes of fans (and non-fans) everywhere, and that, indeed, fills stadiums and arenas just like, say, U2 or Madonna (who, not by chance, followed the summer ritual of the San Siro concert that Depeche Mode themselves inaugurated).

In short, let the detractors make peace with it: this is one of those cases where, whether because of the huge organizational machine behind it, the massive turnout, the media weight of the show, or the care put into every aspect of the performance on offer (which somewhat justifies the ticket price, let's be honest), the word "concert" almost feels reductive.

And yet, never as in this case did strong doubts trouble ticket holders on the eve of the show. Starting with the more speculative ones, tied to the perhaps less-than-stellar production of their latest record, "Sounds Of The Universe", moving on to the more serious ones concerning Gahan's health, who had been hospitalized for cancer a few weeks earlier and forced to cancel some Eastern European dates (though it seems almost trivial for someone who, after all, clinically died for 3 seconds back in the '90s…), all the way to the controversy over "decibels" and "concert length" raised by local residents, or the very recent rumors from the Rome date on the 16th, which spoke of a flat, lifeless, cold, practically disappointing performance, and of a setlist that dropped classics like "Just Can't Get Enough", "Everything Counts", "People Are People".

There was, indeed, plenty to worry about.

The stadium gates open at 4pm under a scorching heat, and it's already clear the day will be a long one. Then, about an hour later, you see a visibly intimidated (and rightly so) Dolcenera take the stage, and you wonder if it's some kind of joke (in truth, however out of place, her piano-and-voice mini-set is pulled off with dignity).

The other two support acts (the German band Motor, but above all the French M83, both enjoyable though somewhat hampered by low volumes and a heavy reliance on recorded and sampled backing tracks) will arrive much later, after an almost exhausting wait on the pitch. Then, slowly, inevitably, finally (it's well past 9pm), the moment arrives.

The stadium still hasn't completely filled up when, on the huge screen behind the stage, the giant images of two faces appear, a black child and an elderly white man: the effective prelude to a series of magnificent song-specific video installations curated by photographer/director Antony Corbijn, which introduce not only the opening notes of "In Chains" but also the entrance of the full band onstage (alongside Gahan, Gore and Fletcher, joined by Eigner on drums and Gordeno on additional synthesizers).

Although the syncopated pace of the opening track might make you fear a hesitant start, all it takes is the following song, the single/anthem "Wrong", to prove once and for all how little it takes to dispel any doubts about the evening: Gahan, spurred on both by flashes of red light firing behind him and by the sheer drive of an undeniably compelling song, immediately looks to be in phenomenal shape, "attacking" the stage with an energy and drive that many, expecting him to be recovering from chemo, would not have anticipated. The crowd's response is instant, as is the involvement and encouragement that Gahan himself won't hold back for a single minute over the following two hours.

"Hole To Feed" closes out the opening trio of songs taken from "Sounds Of The Universe", then it's time for the classics that the whole crowd, even the least knowledgeable fans, want and demand at the top of their lungs: from "Walking In My Shoes", with the evocative (and unsettling) image of a crow in the desert looming behind the band, to "It's No Good", right up to the more recent "Precious"; interspersed, though, with two genuine gems dug up from the classic 80s electronic repertoire, the danceable "Question Of Time" and the sinuous "Fly On The Windscreen".

The chants of the ecstatic crowd follow one after another, song after song, a genuine "third voice" alongside Gahan's, who happily lets the audience sing, and Gore's, who as always handles a highly effective job of fine-tuning on keyboards and guitar alike.

Gore himself then takes centre stage and, left alone with just voice and guitar, with the pairing of "Little Soul" and "Home" (one of the most beautiful ballads he's written) also aims to move the more sensitive fans to tears thanks to the delicacy of his voice, always a sure thing, and the intimate atmosphere of his lyrics.

The band returns to the stage with "Come Back" and "Peace", examples of how excellent the rearranging work on the more recent tracks has been for live performances: "Peace" in particular, "sped up" thanks to the kick drum, literally makes the stadium walls vibrate after Gahan, having reached the front rows via the stage's walkway, engages in a series of call-and-response exchanges with the crowd as he sings the final chorus.

In short, there's plenty to be left in raptures over: "In Your Room", "I Feel You", "Policy Of Truth" (a nice touch, the cascade of coloured balloons on the screen) get even the stones dancing, and among other things give us the most unmissable of rock clichés that every Depeche Mode fan expects, namely Gahan's pirouette, invariably sweaty and bare-chested, with the mic stand: the gesture of all gestures. A couple of words are also worth spending on Fletcher, who never moves from his side position at the synths, but who always manages to create just the right atmosphere and sonic backdrop, so much for backing tracks!

The end of the concert, as is only fitting, is entrusted to the monumental evergreens: "Enjoy The Silence" is by now more than a classic, it's an anthem, and anyone who doesn't know it by heart should leave the stadium; "Never Let Me Down Again", meanwhile, has for more than a decade been the "wheat field" song, that incredible effect you get when the whole crowd waves their hands in unison following Gahan's own movements. The stuff of goosebumps.

But the most successful part, paradoxically, is the encores that follow: here, more than ever, the driving power of "stadium" rock sound blends perfectly with the elegance and precision of the keyboard sound, Depeche's trademark, giving us astonishing versions of songs that were already gorgeous to begin with, like "Stripped", "Master And Servant", "Strangelove" (always accompanied by thoroughly remarkable visual performances and projections).

Another encore, another turn of the carousel: "Personal Jesus" and its immortal guitar riff couldn't possibly be left out on pain of a full-blown riot, while the last song, a version of "Waiting For The Night" performed as a voice-only duet by Gore and Gahan together at the front of the walkway, delivers goosebumps in spades even to those who weren't lucky enough to be right up front, and definitively seals an evening, a concert, an event put on by a band that, however much it's been written off musically for years now, still manages every single time to deliver live shows to be remembered for a long, long time.

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