Depeche Mode
Delta Machine

These Depeche Mode of postmodernism are quirky and oddball. Surviving the dreadful 80s famine and the nearly fatal personal tribulations of their frontman, cherubim of electronics, seraphim of alternative synth magically beached in the mainstream pop context, Gahan and company continue to travel down the smooth and straight highway of their brilliant career without stopping at the rest areas of ruin and cliché, far from wanting to succumb to the market of easy gains and simultaneously distant from writing the word "end" to one of the happiest chapters in the history of contemporary music.

The return of Depeche Mode to the shelves of record stores is one of those unmissable events for aficionados of the last relics of the past and the very latest "Delta Machine" could not be an exception, even though the three musketeers of synth did not make much effort to announce to the world the conclusion of the traditional four-year hiatus: a modest cover, a first single, Heaven, quite silent on the radio and mainstream music channels and, of course, the presentation of the imminent world tour. Yet Gahan's faction, always rather discreet and not too fond of bombastic circus shows, has managed, once again, to demonstrate yet again their ability to produce great works: "Delta Machine" is probably Depeche Mode's best work in a decade, not only able to skillfully hold its own against the sacred monsters "Violator" and "Songs of Faith And Devotion" but also capable of melding into a single album the best of the best of what were the precious chests of their more than thirty-year production. That's why calling them "quirky," with a pinch of childish and naive benevolence, is perhaps the best way to describe a band seemingly quiet and calm but instead damn powerful and even "cacophonous," the creator of one of the most electronic, distorted, "moody," and dialectically chiaroscuro albums in their repertoire. One could compare the recipe used for "Delta Machine" to a great multi-layered cake, a triumph of tastes, flavors, creams, and even spices and aromas: add the mystical darkness of "Ultra", the pre-abysm hyper-creativity of "Devotion", the light-shadow transition of "Violator", mix it all with a sprinkle of the Eighties (particularly the industrial twist of "Black Celebration" and "Music for The Masse"s) and finally blend the resulting mixture with some recent ingredients (Playing The Angel, Exciter). In short, "Delta Machine" represents the perfect condensation of thirty odd years into an energetic and "pumped-up" album halfway between dark halos, gothic spirituality and the pale yet warm rays of light of primordial carefree moments.

"Delta Machine" was, somewhat bizarrely, opened by the first extract Heaven, a sort of synth-alternative ballad à la "Ultra" that does not in the least reveal the latent boom hidden in the other tracks, already able to unlock the "rowdy" side with the second piece from Soothe My Soul, an excellent blues-industrial combination that seems to recall previous works of the caliber of John The Revelator and Hole To Feed. The blues remains a common factor in other songs, among which stand out the synth revival games of Soft Touch/Raw Nerve - one of the best songs of the entire album -and the country-contrived melancholy of Slow and Goodbye. The Depeche team returns to safe ground with the classic electronic-alternative mastery of Secret To The End, the almost "spat" robotic rage of Gahan in Angel, the synth ups and downs of Should Be Higher and the almost dreamlike-chill out atmospheres for The Child Inside, the only piece entirely sung by the dramatic Gore - and superior to average when compared to old "Gore-esque" pieces like Jezebel and One Caress. Also noteworthy is Broken, a sort of revisitation of the more famous Policy of Truth.

If the previous "sounds of the Universe" made the noses of the more choosy and pretentious Depeche Mode fans turn up a bit, "Delta Machine" has everything needed to recover the semi-lost splendor of "Playing The Angel" and the like. After all, we are in the presence of those who can save electronics from the most terrifying mainstream mixtures since the sound artifact set foot on the staff, pioneers of a genre corrupted but not exhausted, exploited but not killed, enslaved but not declared unconstitutional and put on the gallows. So, friends, sound the synthetic trumpets, repopulate San Siro, update the universal sounds with the melodic outbursts of the Delta blast furnace: the Redeemers have returned. And there will be no synth to evict them.

Depeche Mode, Delta Machine

Welcome to My World - Angel - Heaven - Secret to the End - My Little Universe - Slow - Broken - The Child Inside - Soft Touch/Raw Nerve - Should Be Higher - Alone - Soothe My Soul - Goodbye.