Depeche Mode Song Quotes

Through the blurred edges of this period, a new wave of bands had been gestating and plotting their grand entrance. Those who materialized included U2, Depeche Mode, Spandau Ballet, Culture Club, Tears for Fears, the Smiths, and Duran Duran. While we each had entirely distinctive sounds and outlooks, there was a common thread: We had all experienced the U.K. during the seventies, under the same gray skies, enduring political turbulence and social unrest. We were different reflections of similar views, reactionaries to our surroundings. Some chose to express the darkness, others looked toward the light. In Duran Duran’s case, we attempted to strike a balance between the two. We wanted to lift people’s spirits, rather than fight misery with misery. If you limit yourself to grainy black and white, you can create some beautiful imagery, but sometimes we simply wanted to use full, widescreen technicolor.

Whatcha listenin' to?" "Oh, you probably wouldn't like it." "Try me." He shrugs as he passes the headphones across the slim space between our beds. This is gonna be good. I've got him pegged for a Yanni diehard, and I smirk a little as the music starts. One of my cellies had a thing for electronic rock, so I recognize the song right away. With the heavy breathing at the start, it's unforgettable and creepy as hell. Seriously. Like stalker-level shit. I want you now, tomorrow won't do. There's a yearning inside and it's showing through. "Depeche Mode, huh? Cool, man. Wouldn't have figured it." Reach out your hands and accept my love. We've waited for too long. Enough is enough. Like I said, stalker-level. His laugh is jittery, quick as the cockroaches in Folsom. "It's my favorite song. Reminds me of being seventeen again. You know, when sex was all you could think about." I pretend I'm not totally skeeved out when I return his headphones and shut the lights.

The handsome Prince Nelly, new gay bar royalty, lip-synced along to his power ballad selections with a crooner’s passion, both his fists at his sternum. He announced the next song into a microphone, imparting copious factoids. In general, the music was eighties pop—Dead or Alive, Bananarama, Belinda Carlisle, the Human League—and stuff irresistible after imbibing cheap beer: ‘Fantasy’ by Mariah Carey. ‘9 to 5.’ Crystal Castles. CSS. Janet Jackson’s ‘When I Think of You.’ ‘Just Can’t Get Enough’ by Depeche Mode. ‘That’s Not My Name.’ MGMT. ‘D.A.N.C.E.’ ‘Last Dance.’ I recognized the Lovely Jonjo from his appearance on the cover of Butt magazine.

There was obviously something in the air as thirtysomething urbanite Jarvis Cocker of Pulp started writing songs about trees (albeit with a polluted humour) and even the 43-year-old guru of frozen electronica, Gary Numan expressed to Mojo magazine his appreciation of ‘amazing sunsets – they’re so beautiful. The whole sky goes purple and black. I never thought that happened in England until I lived in the countryside. In the winter you get that light, it’s as if you’ve turned the goodness up, it’s good light. People pay to go into galleries to look at bricks and cut-up sheep and say it’s art, but you can sit in your garden and see the most amazing things you’ll ever see and people take it for granted ... people amaze me. A lot of people seem to have lost sight of genuine beauty. Am I sounding really old?