Depeche Mode
Memento Mori

It was thought that the sudden death of Andrew Fletcher would decree the glorious end of the Depeche Mode brand. It would have been a rather wise choice, given also the not exactly optimal level of inspiration in the band's last two decades of artistry. Instead, suddenly after a few months, a photo of the two survivors engaged in the studio appeared on social media: Depeche Mode do not stop, they proceed as a duo. A choice that undoubtedly immediately generated perplexity, particularly regarding whether or not the new material would succeed without Andy.

The result, however, was quite astonishing, more than ever unexpected. Because, let's face it, to be honest, Depeche Mode's 21st-century production does not offer a level of stunning inspiration; the sound structure appears excessive and overloaded, it seems a bit like a poorly handled mishmash of sounds, there's too much pseudo-modernism, too much desire to sound current losing compactness; moreover, the rock overtones and slightly long runtimes further weighed everything down. Not that these works didn't deserve to be listened to, after all, they remain electronic artisans, but there was that sense of heaviness and stagnation of ideas. An interesting recent article in RollingStone addresses this, indicating Alan Wilder's departure in the mid-90s as a decisive negative impact on the group's creativity.

What happens in "Memento Mori"? They simply went back to doing what they knew how to do best. They got rid of everything that weighed down the product, removed the sonic excesses, stopped at all costs trying to be a rock band (which they are not, they succeeded well in 1993, a bit less subsequently). Here they use the right sounds, in the right quantity, at the right time, without going too far. In a good portion of the album, we even seem to breathe the atmospheres of "Violator", when you hear those vaguely techno sounds, sharp but minimalist, those delicate and nebulous pads, that club-friendly rhythm, the mind goes there; in this regard, when you hear "My Favourite Stranger", "People Are Good" and especially "Caroline's Monkey", it really seems like you're listening again to "World in My Eyes" or "Halo", while the very slow "Speak to Me" recalls "Waiting for the Night". If we want to exaggerate, "Wagging Tongue" with its dazzling and direct electronic sound even reminds us of the band's very early days, it seems to come from "A Broken Frame". But they also draw a little from "Ultra", as in the less rhythmic "Don't Say You Love Me" (incidentally, a title taken directly from the lyrics of "It's No Good", who knows if it's pure coincidence) and "Soul With Me". From the 2000s production, the duo doesn't throw everything away, the more modern and abrasive sounds of the period are found here and there, albeit more diluted, and even the sounds of the more nostalgic compositions have been imperceptibly sharpened to prevent them from sounding excessively dated (which, however, wouldn't be a bad thing); and then the opening track "My Cosmos Is Mine" has precisely the sound of the third millennium publications.

And so someone might say... But then did they hit the mark with a nostalgia album? Is it considered a victory to be proud of? I don't know, probably not, after all, I'm always the one who supports a band's continuous evolution, but if moving forward means falling into the abyss, better to take a step back. Depeche Mode hadn't fallen into the abyss, for heaven's sake, they were still holding up quite well, but they had ventured into impervious, risky territories; now instead, they've returned to their safe harbor and by doing so have made their best album in 25 years. They wanted to take a risk, and it was worth it.