Depeche Mode's most foreboding album, leaning toward the gothic, is DM at their most bleak, black-armband, and nihilistic--no doubt played over and over by countless self-loathing teens as they dyed their hair black behind locked bedroom doors. The tracks are tastefully minimalist, yet the few sounds that dominate each song have a consuming, even overwhelming feel--like a big, heavy black cloud that descends upon and surrounds listeners until their knees buckle from the weight. Rhythmically, songs like "A Question of Time" are driven with moderately paced 16th notes pounded out on synths filling out the low end. Other tracks follow the path of "Stripped," an all-out lamentfest powered by David Gahan's overproduced baritone. --Beth Bessmer
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