Concert Review: Depeche Mode Live!
By: A. Neal

Where: Arrowhead Pond Of Anaheim, California.
When: Sat. Aug. 18, 2001 8 P.M.

The Opening Band...
The one-hit wonder, "Poe", serving as the opening act, aint so wonderful. What the hell does that mean -- Poe? They weren't Gothic. They weren't themed in any manner discernable to me or anyone I asked. No presentation, no "act" per say. The lead singer (Ha, ha...good one!) was part Chrissy Hines, "Elvira", "No Doubt", Madonna -- everyone and no one at once.

Poe (we referred to them as "Pew") is commercial enough to get their ass on stage, but lack stage presence enough to shake their -- or our -- booty. "House Of Leaves" was a talky number by the lead singer's brother and a tribute, we all guessed, to Walt Whitman (Homosexual overtones?). Nepotism is especially ugly by people who think "they've made it" enough to bring kiss-ass yes-men to the forefront or supposedly revelatory recordings from their deceased dad as Poe did. We're not talking Sinatra bringing on the Rat Pack here. The Poe set didn't match the headliners' talent level and couldn't live up to the moment. How embarrassing for them -- the band was liike the kid with braces and bad skin who feels lucky to have been asked to the prom at all. Women need to be in rock and roll, for sure. And rock-and-roll is notorious for misogyny. But the underlying tone of Poe was nasty man-bashing, serving no purpose, and it's "Johnny, I Want To Blow You Away" was a thin excuse for a point of view.

During Poe's strained segments, we said to one another, "How can they run a concert with so many empty seats?." Then the flood gates of gawkers opened, multitudes swarmed in, and there wasn't room enough left to pass gas.

"Everything Counts In Large Amounts"
Frightening. That's the only way to describe it. Scary because of the hysteria, the fervor, the unbridled need for distraction. Entertainment shouldn't be this desperate. Depeche Mode could do no wrong. "Demi-gods of another world who chose to bestow their graces on us, the commoners, " was how one "Mode-r" put it. They could have belched the phone book and got a standing ovation. A scene taken straight from "Pink Floyd's The Wall" -- mass hypnosis, where thousands defiantly striking dead space with clinched fists, mouthing repetitive words like a screaming matra.

The lead singer of Depeche Mode, who look more than just a little similar to "Spock", should take dance lessons or stop moving. He's been on stage for over half his life and he can't find the beat to his own music. He's geek-boy-done-good. "There's Always Tommorrow" -- or so they sang. Having seen several "divine divas" warble within the last year, this "pared-down" presentation of no lighting, minus sets, lack of costumes, sans makeup, etc. leaves something to be desired. If the effect was to be "here we are as ourselves", then why were we were subjected to nonsensical backscreen projections of looped images resembling grade school science class educational films?

Depeche Mode is a prime example of how to take a group with a minimal amount of talent, get slick producers to pep them up, and do variations on a theme. Whereas Poe's monotony wore thin quickly, Depeche Mode energy was bouncing and easy to assimilate. But there still was that damned lack of connection. No introductions of the band, no small talk, not even a "home town" joke put-down. Poe has alot to learn. Depeche Mode still has some polishing to do themselves, even after all these years.

The fake leather-clad know-it-all, tabloid tell-all friend -- who's "in the business" -- who sat next to me, rhapsodized about the band's bouts of rehab (born-again junkies?) and sexual peccadilloes (Did the hamster die just like what happened with that movie star dude?). Yegad. I didn't need that visual in my head.

In The End
All-in-all, a good time was had by malicious mall monsters who jumped to their feet the second the music stopped, feeling as though they got their moneys worth because they made an ass of themselves by dancing drunk in an isle, heading like lemmings for their super-clean SUVs, tore off to Denny's to slowly skewer the beloved band over Cokes and fries and shred the last bits of the group's, and their own, dignity.

How entertaining!