Depeche Mode
Spirit

Spirit is not a political album, say Depeche Mode.

Indeed, they do not take a political stance here, but they harshly reproach humanity for what it could have been and was not. It is a critique of those who have made wrong choices, also choosing the wrong example to follow, which perfectly embodies the spirit of tension and disorientation for those who witnessed Brexit and Trump's election, of those who do not fully understand where a nationalism limited to its own interests will lead us. Like in the black and white video of the leading single, DM's musical narrative has dark atmospheres throughout an album that does not represent a pessimistic view of the world but today's sad, tragic, ruthless reality.

The first track is Going Backwards, a bitter reflection on the regressive process of the human species compared to technological evolution and atrophying control tools. (We’re going backwards/Armed with new technology/Going backwards/To a cavemen mentality). It is a backward step that also resonates in the sounds, with a piano mixed in a perfect weave with electronics. A sound even more attentive to detail, different from previous works, yet immediately recognizable in DM’s typical style, powerful and dark, close to Berlin minimalism and with slight blues hints, in line with the lyrics. Going Backwards seems like a junction between “In Chains” from Sound of the Universe and “You Move” from this same album, all written (music and lyrics) by Martin Gore.

Where’s The Revolution picks up from the bitter considerations on social atrophy of the previous track to ask us where the constructive desire has gone, where the will to react has gone after letting others make decisions (Who's making your decisions?/ You or your religion/ Your government, your countries/ You patriotic junkies/ Where’s the revolution?). The piano is no longer present, but decadent sounds maintain a dark setting in a crescendo with hints of a reactionary punk, culminating in the chorus. It is a suggestion of leaden images up to the splendid bridge (The train is coming/Get on board/The engine’s humming) echoing sounds from Pink Floyd, as happened before with Violator and more markedly later with Cover Me.

The Worst Crime opens with an arpeggio of Gore’s trembling guitar on which drums and keyboards slowly lay, in a dark and melancholic rhythm accompanying the journey towards the gallows of an apathetic and superficial human race that has condemned itself (How could we commit the worst crime?/ We’re the judge and the jury/ The hangman, the convict). The singing, slow, sweetly fierce and sensual, recalls Gahan’s previous performances with the Soulsavers.

Scum is an invective against indifference (What have you ever done for anyone?/ Hey scum, hey scum/ What are you doing judgement time has come?). The rhythm becomes pressing and aggressive, with 80s synths, powerful and pulsating bass like the whistles of a locomotive vomiting rage through Gahan’s filtered voice. It is one of the tracks closest to DM’s latest productions.

The powerful bass returns in You Move, signed by Gore and Gahan. It is a piece that moves away from the invective of the previous part of the album to open a moment of reflection and uncertainty, as if to represent the detachment from the earthly dimension to the spiritual one. Gahan’s voice (I don’t need you, I don’t need your ball and chain/ There’s no water in that well/ But I like the way you move) seems to watch the terrestrial movement supported by pulsating bass and electronics.

Cover Me is the most important track because it perfectly represents the sense of Spirit. It has a slow start, on an ethereal sound base that builds the melody. The keyboards change note with an evident nod to the Floydian journey in Dark Side of The Moon and accompany Gahan’s electro/soul crooner voice, wonderfully enveloping as in the album Angels & Ghosts with the Soulsavers (One Thing, in particular). The long instrumental coda, amidst cinematic vaporous bursts, is a crescendo of pointillist synths that echo John Carpenter’s keyboards (that bass line, also taken in the series Strange Things) and the soundscapes of Boards Of Canada (like the fantastic Reach For The Dead/Tomorrow’s Harvest). Cover Me is undoubtedly the album’s pinnacle, and the text perfectly follows the emotional journey, beyond the zenith, awaiting a new dawn (Way up here with the northern lights/ Beyond you and me/ I dreamt of us in another life/ One we’ve never reached).

In Eternal the spiritual journey continues with a brief electronic requiem, atonal and ethereal like the flight of Icarus. Martin’s voice replaces Dave’s, and it’s very effective in returning depth and passion in a song where love and death (like in Leopardi’s work, brothers, at the same time) merge. Gore’s German romanticism sings of a kiss that marks both the earthly return and the importance of love as an absolute eternal value (And kiss you/ And give you all my love/ As well as any man can/ As well as any man could/ You are my eternal, eternal love/ You are my eternal, eternal love).

In Poison Heart, Gahan’s warm voice resumes the invective against humanity, ever closer to the brink (Now we’re closer to the edge/ Now you push me to the edge). Here DM propose a new interpretation of the 90s pop-blues of Songs Of Faith And Devotion and Ultra: pulsed drums, keyboards and post-industrial effects, guitar inserts in a well-paced soul ballad.

So Much Love is the closest to DM's most classic pieces. It recalls the new wave/post-punk sounds of Never Let Me Down Again (Music for the Masses) and the rhythm of A Question Of Time (Black Celebration).

It is likely that So Much Love will be one of the next singles from this album. The text, as aggressive as the throbbing rhythm of the song, starts with Gahan's voice. Gore’s voice joins the first There Is So Much Love In Me, and again the second, after which Gahan's voice is enriched with an echo to then finally accompany Gore’s until the end. It’s another way to emphasize the importance of love and brotherhood as an indispensable way out of the regressive process (You can despise me/ Demonize me/ It satisfies me so/ There is so much love in me).

Poorman has a stylistic continuity with the previous album, Delta Machine. It is another ballad that underscores the failure of a social system, devoted to multinationals and that survival instinct that ignores the weakest (Hey, passers by/ They don’t dare to catch his eye/ Couldn’t even tell you why/ Or what’s happenin’ inside/ Corporations get the breaks). It starts with a Tracklist and Videos