Sounds Of The Universe

This 1980s revival is starting to get up my nose. Partly it’s the fashions, and partly it’s all the old bands getting back together and being just as talentless as before. But mostly it’s because so much of today’s ‘new sounds’ and ‘next best things’ are simply rehashing what has gone before. Ever since the Sugababes ripped off Tubeway Army on ‘Freak Like Me’, it’s become acceptable for acts like Little Boots and La Roux to dismember old sounds and knowingly flog them off as something new.

Which is why I was faintly hopeful about Depeche Mode’s new album. It’s been four years since their last effort, Playing The Angel, which managed to atone with their 1980s past while still sounding fresh and purposeful. And nowhere was this more the case than on the first single, ‘Precious’, which combined all the traditional whistles and bells with a tragic, personal sound greatly removed from the political grandstanding of Some Great Reward.

So now we have Sounds Of The Universe, an album which will be accompanied by the Tour of the Universe. It seems they mean business. So why, then, does it start with such a retro song as ‘In Chains’? The opening sounds like a cross between internet dialup and the theme for THX, recalling the industrial sound of their mid-1980s output. The lyrics are more basic too, spaced out and echoed over a strangely uninspiring landscape.

‘Hole To Feed’ also boasts a weird beginning, with percussion like someone punching the bonnet of a car. But unlike their great sonic experiments of old – for instance, on ‘People Are People’ – these effects are not there to lock you into a beat. Instead they’re just smoke and mirrors, there to distract you from the song’s shortcomings, of which there are many.

If you need further proof of nostalgia, then take the single, ‘Wrong’. If this wasn’t being sung by Dave Gahan in his distinctive style, you might be forgiven for thinking this was a boy band. Not only are the lyrics lazy, but the overproduced repeating chorus is an unforgivable throwback to Heaven 17. Add in a claustrophobic hip-hop backing and you have the cock-up of the year.

Things improve with ‘Fragile Tension’. Martin Gore’s guitar is given more room for manoeuvre, producing heavy, metallic chords to counterpoint the distracting high-pitched sampler. ‘Little Soul’, on the other hand, finds the band borrowing from Kraftwerk and (shudder) Tears For Fears in a vain attempt to recreate ‘Enjoy The Silence’. Things are not looking good.

‘In Sympathy’ and ‘Peace’ continue with the Kraftwerk pilfering. The former in particular borrows the deep synths from The Man Machine and attempts to disguise this with rambling high-pitched parts on top. The main problem, however, is the slow tempo. The ’Mode’s early singles worked because they were short and sweet: they sped by in an instant, but always lingered in your mind. This is the opposite, being completely forgettable and dragging at every turn.

From this point on, the album slowly loses its way as the band try every trick they know to regain your attention. ‘Come Back’ is a boring keyboard workout; it has nothing to say and the beats are so monotonous that you find yourself drifting off. ‘Spacewalker’ would have been better, if it didn’t sound like the backing track to every modern hip-hop song.

The only saving graces come towards the very end. By the time ‘Perfect’ comes on, you’re too bored and exhausted to notice its cheap homage to ‘Neon Lights’ (guess who by?), and the structure of the verses is a faint but pleasant surprise. ‘Jezebel’ is great, recalling the dark, introspective tenderness of ‘Precious’. It’s far more captivating than anything else on here, with a decent set of lyrics to accompany the spooky keyboards. And while ‘Corrupt’ is much too long, it does at least manage to pack a decent punch without resorting to cheapened beats or mindless showing-off.

Having sat through an hour of Sounds Of The Universe, I come away with my hopes shattered. It’s not the worst album ever made, not by a long shot, but it’s clear that the band are running out of ideas. In order to sound relevant in a decade which glorifies the 1980s to excess, they’ve been forced into one long nostalgia trip, either referencing their past motifs or ripping off other people’s. Even the cover, with its grey backdrop and retro layout, is a rip-off of 90125, the comeback album by Yes. Given the choice between this and tickets to the Spandau Ballet reunion, I’d take Depeche Mode willingly, but otherwise all this album will do is wear you out and wind you up.