And so the seemingly unstoppable juggernaut with the number plate ‘DEPECHE MODE WOZ ‘ERE’ continues its bulldozing of a whole host of other influences out there: when did this happen?; did I miss the memo?
Nowt wrong with the Mode of course – fine fine band – but their lurking presence as an all-pervasive touchstone seems to have crept up unnoticed; by me at least.
Hailing from Edinburgh, the three-piece Dead Boy Robotics do a decent job of updating the sound – if updating means taking out the pervy bits and polishing away any hint of danger; melding it with, no doubt commercially successful guitar histrionics, they produce a big big noise that screams “mainstage” at the top of its highly produced lungs.
Depeche Modulated / Depeche Moderated – take ya pick; either way it’s not gonna offend your mother.
One can’t take it away from them however – this has potential to be massive; at it’s best, on tracks such as ‘Lost’, it is highly accomplished and pop-tastic in a pseudo-dangerous kind of way; never did bands like the Stereophonics any harm… financially.
After that reasonably attractive opener, well, things sort of meld into one: there is a pattern of moodiness, stadium braggadocio, belted out chorus and the sort of atmosphere that suggests, ‘Big hit at Reading… possibly with dubious stuff chucked from the scowling contingent of the crowd’.
And why not?: handsome young band deliver open but superficially edgy music to adoring fans – it’s not the sort of USP to concern the accounts manager; it works.
Expect to hear this mob at an enormodome near you soon; they’re made for it.
Buy if – you fancy drinking warm lager and swaying about in a crowd of 15,000 with your eyes shut and pretending to be depressed (in a euphoric and oxymoronic way).
Don’t buy if – you prefer looking on aghast at the abject lunacy of Dave Gahan somehow still being alive… and have a non-pretendy sex-dungeon that is not open to middle management.
Words: Vosne Malconsorts
