Depeche Mode

Ghosts again. There they are, like two ghosts, two survivors, Dave Gahan and Martin Gore, celebrating a funereal liturgy that will once again descend into the depths of death in order to exorcise it and be reborn to new life. The latest, in this relentless, ongoing palingenesis, called Depeche Mode, which, in spite of its own name, always manages to withstand the wear of time and even lethal blows, like the one dealt by fate on that cursed 26th of May 2022, which took away Andy Fletcher, known to everyone as "Fletch", the keyboardist and founder, but above all the glue of the band, the point of balance between the often incompatible visions (and egos) of the two leading men. The embrace of fifty thousand fans at the Olimpico envelops them on another sweltering July night, like the one recounted ten years ago. That was the Delta Machine Tour, another secular mass, another collective Black Celebration. Then came the return with Global Spirit, their last appearance in Italy, five years ago. Nineteen times their music for the masses has been taken out on tour. This one, however, is the first without Fletch, whose guiding spirit will hover over the stage all night long.

Given some recent performances, including the less-than-memorable appearance at Sanremo, there were some worries about the state of Gahan's voice, but he instead turns up in good form, his bewitching baritone giving shape and backbone to the songs, smoothing over any rough edges with the craft acquired over the years. He remains the consummate stage animal with his brazen exuberance, even if, more than a rocker, he resembles a cabaret crooner straight out of an episode of "Babylon Berlin", with his kohl-rimmed eyes, waistcoat and sequined jacket. His repertoire of hip-swaying, plastic poses and dance moves now belongs squarely in the handbook of the perfect frontman, and once again he doesn't fail to set the audience alight, especially when he strides along the runway that splits the crowd in two. On either side of the stage stand two giant screens, and at the center a huge letter M lights up (white, red, blue), reproducing the initial of the two words in the title of their latest album, "Memento Mori", meaning "Remember you must die" - a sinister title chosen well before Andy's death made it tragically mocking. After all, the obsession with death is a leitmotif running through the entire career of Depeche Mode, an endless succession of light and shadow, decadence and vitality, abyss and redemption. This is also evoked by the grim iconography on stage, made up of macabre skulls, hooded men in black, wooden crosses, funeral wreaths and angel wings.

But "Memento Mori" is also, paradoxically, their most moving hymn to life: “No rain, no clouds/ no pain, no shrouds/ no final breaths/ no senseless deaths” (“Niente pioggia, niente nuvole/ niente dolore, niente sudari/ nessun ultimo respiro, nessuna morte insensata”), Dave intones amid the synthetic pulses of "My Cosmos Is Mine", which opens the concert on an atmospheric note, followed by the obsessive "Wagging Tongue", co-written by Gahan and Gore, which instead takes us back along the Dusseldorf-Basildon axis, recalling the metallic chimes of the Kraftwerk-esque "Computer World". Five tracks will be chosen from the latest album: over the course of the set there will also be room for the gripping "Ghosts Again", whose crowd-pleasing riff sets the audience ablaze, proving itself a genuine "new hit" in their repertoire, for the more evanescent "Soul With Me" (sung by Gore), and for an anguished "Speak To Me", with visuals in which Golgotha-style wooden crosses accompany Gahan as he looks to the sky and tries to open a dialogue (“Speak to me, I will follow/ I heard you call my name/ lying on the bathroom floor/… I’m listening, I hear you, your sound”).

Overall, from this live examination “Memento Mori” emerges further strengthened: it may not be their freshest album, but it's certainly their most convincing since the 2000s, after that “Playing The Angel” (2005), which must also be held in high regard by the band's two principals, given that it's represented on stage by no fewer than three tracks: the dense, dark electronics of "A Pain That I'm Used To", the clattering rhythms of the anthem "John The Revelator", and the ever-anguished "Precious", whose spectacular chorus still tears at us with its melancholy. A triple helping is also granted to another cornerstone of their discography, "Songs Of Faith And Devotion" (1993), controversial at the time but extraordinarily far-sighted in how it updated the Basildon boys' electronic gospel to the clanging rock sounds of the 90s: a vigorous "I Feel You", all guitars and drumming, and the melodic shadings of the gems "In Your Room" and "Walking in My Shoes" set off Gahan's magnetic voice, as he dominates the stage, twirling the mic stand and surrendering to his sensual dances. "Thank you all so much. Good evening, Rome", he shouts to the fifty thousand calling his name. "Ultra" (1997) also gets its deserved recognition, with the sinuous "It's No Good", accompanied by an eco-themed video, and the murky "Sister Of Night" dusting off its refined grooves.

More recent hits pop up too, like the bluesy "Wrong" (from the genuinely weak "Sounds Of The Universe" from 2009), but the die-hard nostalgic fan's corner can't be left uncovered. So here comes the lump in the throat lying in wait in the suave keyboards of "Everything Counts", played in white gloves to revive the early 80s of "Construction Time Again" (perhaps the gem of the whole evening). Then there's Martin, usually the mind behind the scenes - "glorious", as his friend-rival Dave crowns him - ready to take the spotlight with his unchanging shyness, delivering a touching "A Question Of Lust", the first pick from the epic "Black Celebration" (1986), from which the magic of "Stripped" will later resurface too, with its bleak sensuality steeped in industrial haze.

The two seem to have moved past old tensions and misunderstandings: they embrace, to the fans' ovation, during the hushed "Waiting For The Night" ("Violator", 1990), and have a blast staging the by-now indispensable pantomime of the extended "Just Can't Get Enough", which gets the whole stadium dancing.

But ideally Andy is on that stage too, conjured up through his passion, chess, in the knowing visual reference of "Ghosts Again" (a nod to Ingmar Bergman's "The Seventh Seal", in which the protagonist challenged death) and honoured with a beautiful full-screen black-and-white image during "World In My Eyes": "Let's hear it for Mr Andy Fletcher, a friend of ours", Gahan asks the crowd. The longtime session players flanking them on stage, Christian Eigner (drums) and Peter Gordeno (synths, bass, piano), get their applause too.

Before bowing out, Depeche Mode (also due on 14 July at Stadio San Siro in Milan and on 16 July at the Dall'Ara in Bologna, ahead of the new Italian leg in 2024) unleash a lush "Never Let Me Down Again" - the sole representative of the evening's most "sacrificed" classic album, "Music For The Masses" (1987) - and the classic knockout double bill from "Violator", with the devastating melody of the eternal "Enjoy The Silence" (sung in chorus by the crowd) and the hammering beat of a "Personal Jesus" that starts slow, recalling Johnny Cash's famous "intimate" cover, before erupting into its full adrenaline-charged force, detonating the Olimpico for the most thrilling of finales, after more than two hours of show. Reach out and touch faith. Faith in Depeche Mode. Stronger than anything, even death.

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