Dancing in the Dark With Depeche Mode

“Death is everywhere,” begins the first verse of “Fly on the Windscreen,” one of the more cited compositions in the dark oeuvre of Depeche Mode, the growingly popular English synthesizer-pop quartet that headlines sold-out shows Friday and Saturday at the Forum in Inglewood and Dec. 7 at the San Diego Sports Arena. “There are lambs for the slaughter / Waiting to die / And I can sense / The hours slipping by / Tonight / Come here / Kiss me / Now. . . .”

Romanticizing life slowly slipping away while unable to shake the fear of that final moment may not be especially novel to modern popular art--certainly not to anyone who got misty-eyed at Dylan Thomas’ orders to “not go gentle into that good night” or waxed philosophic over Woody Allen’s stated willingness one day to trade all the acclaim for a few more minutes of life.

What does set Depeche Mode somewhat apart from those antecedents is the fact that the vast majority of the band’s devoted fans are not yet old enough to vote, let alone experience a mid-life crisis.

Lots of English rock bands have emphasized dark themes, but few have connected so strongly to the under-18 crowd. The unprepared parent visiting a Depeche Mode arena show in expectation of finding kids gathered for another evening of communal pop frivolity may well leave unsettled by the sense of dread that has replaced puppy love in these young minds.

Thousands and thousands of teen-agers join in with the group on, for example, “Blasphemous Rumours,” with its grim sing-along chorus: “I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumors / But I think God’s got a sick sense of humor / And when I die / I expect to find him laughing. . . .”

And that’s actually one of the more hopeful forecasts of afterlife prospects found in the Depeche Mode canon (cf.: the new album’s agnostic anthem, “Nothing”).

Not that Depeche Mode is concerned only with life’s end. Songwriter Martin Gore also tackles sin, insecurity, betrayal, loneliness and, through it all, a desperate search for acceptance and love amid the existential ruins.

Pop ennui going over its target audience’s collective head, you say?

Not likely. Depeche Mode may pander to its youthful audience in concert, adopting an upbeat tone that seems to trivialize (if not even mock) the subject matter at times, with lead singer David Gahan furiously pumping his hips while exhorting the crowd to “ sing it! “ through even the darkest anthems.

But the records themselves have the integrity of being very much sober, seemingly adult-aimed affairs--far from the usual stuff of Tiger Beat appeal. And don’t believe for a second the old maxim that the kids “don’t listen to the words.”

In this case, at least, the evidence is overwhelming that they do listen, and that the massive popularity is in large part because of the dour themes, not in spite of them. No more getting morose with Sylvia Plath in English 101 for this generation of plaintive high-schoolers--nowadays, you can ponder the cessation of all existence and dance to the rhythm of life at the same time.

Depeche Mode’s first records were unpromising, comparatively crude and typical techno-pop releases, full of catchy, forgettable dance fluff like “Just Can’t Get Enough.” Those songs sound like rough demo tapes compared to the impressive digital recording of the band’s new album, “Music for the Masses,” which includes dread-filled instrumental passages that sound patterned more after Philip Glass or Benjamin Britten than Giorgio Moroder.

After the early departure of co-founder Vince Clarke (who went on to form Yaz and Erasure), songwriter Gore kept the all-synthesizer format--though the new album, which has reached No. 35 in its sixth week on the U.S. charts, features the first brief, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it use of guitars on a Mode record--and opted for more minor chords and less cheerful sentiments.

Comfort, when it comes, is slight: On last year’s “Black Celebration” LP, the group’s grimmest, Gore would find a lover but then decide that, in the overall scheme of things, “It Doesn’t Matter.” In another song, two youngsters lovelessly lose their virginity to each other as the narrator dubiously concludes, “In a world full of nothing / Though it’s not love / It means something.”

Such cynical but frequently tender human sentiments--married to industrial-strength electronic instrumentation--found an especially receptive audience in Southern California, which until recently was the English band’s only major American stronghold.

And if any evidence was necessary for just how seriously teens take this stuff, one can look to the dozens of letters bound to flood in after any negative mention of the band in print--like the defensive missives sent to The Times last year after a review of the group’s Forum concert took extensive note of the band’s dark side.

As to why teen-agers feel so strongly about Depeche Mode, Alfred Sison of Rolling Hills wrote: “It’s our way of reflecting on our society and times. Nuclear war being so imminent, abortion such a major issue of the decade, and the rising competitiveness of our capitalistic society, where there are more losers than winners. We need to find and identify ourselves, to realize the world is not always parties, relationships, getting that job at McDonald’s that is always there. For some, like me, Depeche Mode is the answer. It’s better than ‘50s and ‘60s teenyboppers and hippies. So unrealistic and unidealistic--’let’s hold hands and our problems will go away’--yeah, right! Remember Altamont.”

Generation gap, anyone?

Sandi Glezakos of Huntington Beach had this to say: “Depeche Mode is merely a melodic voice to all of our fears and frustrations, and by hearing our problems transformed into music that is enjoyable to listen to, teens may feel a temporary reprieve that allows us to face tomorrow with a slightly lighter load.”

Not all the defenses were so philosophic.

“As for singer Dave Gahan’s pelvic thrusting,” wrote in Yvette Van Gils of Monrovia, “hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it! Man, does he have it!”

Songwriter Martin Gore laughs when asked about the group’s youth appeal. “I can’t explain it,” he said by phone from a Paris tour stop recently.

“We do notice that, when we become popular in a country, the average age of our audience tends to go down. That’s just the usual situation when older people tend to be put off when you are popular, because they feel that it’s uncool to like something that is getting so much exposure. It’s a very unfortunate situation.”

But not that unfortunate. “Because our audiences are around this age group, they’re very enthusiastic,” continued Gore. “We feel we’re really lucky that we’ve got these responsive audiences at our concerts. . . .

“I think most of the people who know the songs do understand them, but when they come to the concerts it’s kind of a celebration. They’ve listened to the records at home, but when they come out they just want to enjoy themselves. And we encourage that.”

“I’m a missionary . . . I’m one of the devout,” Gore writes in “Sacred,” the most overwhelmingly positive statement on the new album. A sudden convert? No--the imagery is in the service of evangelizing for, as he puts it in the interview, “love as a religion--the only religion.”

Query him much further about other themes, like the way the concept of sin figures so prominently in a non-believer’s lyrics, and he gets purposefully evasive.

“A lot of people have totally different meanings for songs than I originally intended, but I don’t think that’s bad,” he said. “We’ve had interviewers come along talking about ‘Never Let Me Down Again’ (the latest single), and one thought it was a homosexual love song, and another thought it was a drug anthem--and it doesn’t matter. They both liked it and they both got a certain emotion from it.”

But Gore is willing to own up to at least one other recurring theme: the protective older person who admires--and is even jealous of--a younger person’s happy naivete.

It popped up previously on “A Question of Time”: “Well now you’re only 15 / And you look good / I’ll take you under my wing / Somebody should / They’re persuasive ways / And you’ll believe what they say / It’s just a question of time / It’s running out for you. . . .” Similarly, the new album’s “Little 15” has an older woman trying to recapture her idealism by consorting with a teen-age boy.

No mystery there. Gore sums it up succinctly: “I’m fascinated by innocence.”

Has the irony ever occurred to Gore, though, that his darker songs might in fact contribute to the spoiling of that innocence--that, given the youthfulness of most of his audience, his words may in many cases provoke the first instance in which many teens think seriously about death or lack of faith in God or the cruelty of a random world, sending them well on their way toward losing the precious naivete he so admires?

“Interesting angle,” he says with a chuckle. “In some ways I suppose you’re right. . . . I’m the devil here corrupting the world.”