The proper listing for an album title, at least according to the guidelines presented to me at my first official music reviewing gig (PopMatters.com, like every other wannabe writer) is to print it in Italics, and the song titles are to be listed in quotation marks. Unfortunately, this Blogger software does not allow me to apply the Italics into the title field, and so I have been relegated to an improper listing method for two years now. I'm just putting it out there -washing my hands as if Pontius Pilate. I know my business and know it well, and if there is some impropriety in the midst there is a perfectly logical explanation for it. On with it then...
I'm at a very good place right now musically. By now I have become a colossal, amorphous black mass absorbing all things that make a pleasing sound into my null organism, making them my own for all intents and purposes -sort of like a musical Akira. I'm not sure if it's attributable to maturity because frankly I've regressed so far back that I'm practically one toe deep in my mother's toxic twat again. I think, rather, it is a victory to be chalked up for this new unprecedented level of "I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck" I have recently reached that has just smashed any and all lines -perimeters- regarding the aesthetics of music, literature and their respective genres, art, fashion and perhaps even sexuality. I am boundless now. (Only through the merit of being nothing.)
That's a good thing! In a way, it is like getting a second stroll through life. With my horizons now widened exponentially, there is an entire universe out there waiting to fill me with delight at this opportune time in my journey through this dump. The time is right, the time is now, to get the best out of my midlife crisis somehow. I mean, true, life has lodged a rather large, uncircumcised, veiny member in my little balloon knot; now it is up to me to figure out which way to wiggle my ass so that I get the pleasure out of the violation (pun intended). This I am currently doing by having stumbled back into my post eighth grade/pre-high school self, with a significance that I'm sure my shrink would give a proud nod to, then he'd press the red button under his desk to have the boys with the butterfly nets rush me. This timeframe that I'm recreating was the last summer before losing myself, the real me, and becoming a cardboard cutout that I wore before myself to hide the cowering little boy behind it.
Lately, it feels as if the universe has brought me back there by way of undertow to try and give this thing a second go. Among the many things that I have (re)discovered in this benign manifestation of my midlife crisis as my alter-ego/nom d' plum Teardrop (Frank Redux) is Depeche Mode's Violator album. Violator was very much a soundtrack (not a personal one) of those days. I did possess the cassette at one point, but never paid it a fraction of the mind it is getting this week now that I own it on CD. There are also other reasons why Violator is in heavy spin, and it is because of the single "Enjoy The Silence", which is tied in to some recurring fantasy that I have been having regarding a character from my novel, Diazepam Dreams. Her name is Yajaira...
Violator was DM's seventh outing and it would be hard to imagine that it isn't their most critically acclaimed (I didn't feel like researching). Depeche Mode are good at what they do, which is basically just electronic music but if you would like to get more specific, then OK, synth-pop (?), Euro-pop (?). Certainly that genre is not for everyone and I am more than certain that particular hazy figures from my previous life are saying "oh, now you like it, eh Maricon?" Yes, Maricon, now I like it. The bottom line is that good music transcends genre. Also, I challenge you to sit through 10 minutes of modern day pop as opposed to 20 minutes of Violator. Go ahead, I'll wait... Back so soon?!
As for the 'danceability' of the music, so what? Let me see the most masculine of you cheloveks out there have three highballs and then not not want to dance with a smoldering hot broad to "Personal Jesus". Certainly I did more than my share of dancing (and falling down with broads) during college at Club 609 on Thursday nights. Also, my body involuntarily responds to Reggae -I go into instant skanking 'when mi a fi 'ir a chune, ya kno'... Consider that not everyone wants to stagedive and bang heads with each other. Sometimes its nice to slink around with a girl in front of you. I am a big stickler for mood music in any given situation, and there is absolutely a right time and place for this joint.
The program on Violator consists of nine tracks and clocks in at 47 minutes. I am not going to reiterate yet again my gripes with running times but this thing is right in the sweet spot. That aside, though the production is ice cold and squeaky clean, it has a wonderful dark ambient quality to it -a great musical tone that David Gahan's voice accompanies like a hand in glove. I find a type of solace in his vocal style. I am familiar with their earlier single "Strangelove" which is a great dance tune but this album is a whole other level, having received five consecutive spins since it arrived at my shithole and there are no signs that it is going to get shelved anytime soon.
In 1990 when it dropped this thing was pretty huge, as right it should have been with all of the promotional dollars that went into hyping it. I remember as if it was yesterday the huge promo visual displays at EVERY local record store whether they were the chain shops or the two/three indies that we had here in Miami. That promotional rush costs money! That's okay, I am positive that the record company recouped and DM made out like fat rats. Violator sprung three radio hits in "Personal Jesus", "Enjoy The Silence" and "Policy Of Truth". Then, on top of the commercial success of this album, the fellas embarked on the "World Violation" tour, packing many, many stadiums in the process; and well, touring dollars are the real bread and butter of a music act.
Anyways, this record is dope, it has loads of vibe to it. A blow by blow synopsis of Violator three decades after the fact is obsolete and unsolicited. The takeaway from this should hopefully be that this is record with a great tone, it has hints of darkness and melancholy without a full goth tilt, whereas it can be utilized as party music and keep the vibe festive yet sexy and not some "Do-the-Limbo" shit or "Guess How Many Nails In My Coffin" either. Today I may even give it a second spin as soon as I'm finished with The Exploited Punks Not Dead which is celebrating a 30-something anniversary.
Eh, what the fuck, what are you going to do? Anyways, check out Violator by Depeche Mode regardless of your typical genre. You would be surprised just how many musicians from the Punk, Hardcore and Metal scenes rock this album. You should follow suit. I recommend it for moody relaxation, sexy contemplation, and aural masturbation. Toodles. I have to get back to trying and place a complain with the Customer Service Department of the National Suicide Hotline. The guy that I got last night was a piece of shit. Their argument is that he clearly did his job since I am alive to call back today and complain. 
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