A Night with Alan Wilder and Gary Numan

Funny the expectations you bring with you to a show. I went on my own, to the Metro, full of nostalgia. Memories flooded in as my cab pulled up. Suede in, I believe it was 94? Standing outside the hall, in the alley, with the band and various onlookers/groupies. Melissa and myself being crushed as we fought to keep our spot in the front row. I looked around the hall, talked to some people, walked upstairs, and finally settled on a spot. Unfortunately, as is my usual luck, I settled in next to two very drunk and very rowdy idiots. Thankfully, they were sincere Gary Numan fans. That always makes the drunken idiocy more bearable, if you know they're actually there for the music but just can't, for whatever reason, keep their idiotic yelps and 'fuck yeahs' to themselves. They were older than me, and had seen Mr. Numan over 30 times. Wow. Respect. They were sweet in their own way, and I felt strangely looked after, which is also a plus when at a gig on one's own.
Architect were not the most entertaining. I was polite, as was the crowd, but we were all waiting for Alan Wilder. I have to admit a real thrill as he walked out on stage. I realized, after watching him saunter onstage and position himself before his mac, that, Depeche Mode are the longest running constant in my entire musical life. I have loved them, listened to them, dreamt with them pretty much constantly in one way or another since the age of about 12 when my dear friend Steve Harris first introduced them to me from his mysteriously sophisticated mixed tapes (he even knew Blancmange, which, having lived in the UK for many years, I now realize is quite astounding).
Depeche Mode always seemed to hit wherever I was living during the summer. I still have yet to see them 'live'. It was ironic seeing Alan Wilder's beautiful new (to me) project Recoil all based from two macs and a video screen being wholeheartedly accepted. I remember the days in the 80s when they were heavily ridiculed for not being 'live'. But now I feel I've seen one part of them, and it felt good.
I must honestly say that Recoil's music is a moving and beautiful concoction of electronica and gorgeous vocals from spoken word to blues. I loved it. I soon got over the awkwardness of him nodding his head and pushing buttons.
When he left, I felt great relief at the sight of techs setting up guitars and other instruments. Real instruments being played live is still my very favorite. I didn't come to Gary Numan with many expectations. He played the entire Pleasure Principle album first. It still sounded modern and thoroughly interesting. But when he started his newer material, which has a decidedly more 'industrial' or hard electronic edge, I got quite excited. He brings an interesting mix of old school singing and pausing to industrial. Yes, the voice is somewhat distorted, but he actually sings the songs with clear choruses, which is unusual in the industrial music that I've listened to. And maybe you can't even call it industrial. I struggle with a lot of the new labels to these music forms anyway, so bear with me. What I guess I'm trying to say is that it was surprisingly emotionally laden, poetic and soaring. I also admired his passion. He clearly gets into his music, and that's a pleasure to watch. He looks like a lost raccoon with the heavy kohl liner on his eyes. He doesn't look like that power will come from him. But, it does, and it's immensely satisfying.

The end of the night was the part that fully exceeded expectations. After a brief but very fun time downstairs, I finally decided to call it a night. What should I discover when I came up for air and a cab home, but Mr. Wilder himself. I did what I always do, approached him immediately, gushed incoherently but very sincerely about his music (did ask if he did the visuals too, which are gorgeous), and thanked him. He was awfully good looking (better with age) and very gracious, holding my hand and thanking me repeatedly. He got into a cab and went. I had to pinch myself. Alan Wilder. Wow. And here's the proof above. Oh, and a nice little shot of Gary at work.