Sometimes, it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what makes certain kinds of music fall under the cyberpunk umbrella. If the scope is too broad, you risk lumping in modern music genres with heavy electronic leanings that don’t quite seem to fit the bill, such as techno, certain derivatives of pop punk, and (god forbid) the dubstep. While certain musicians in certain genres can make music with synthetic touches enjoyable in their own right, oftentimes they lack the nihilistic, tech-driven attitudes that are commonly associated with the culture. This distinction is further blurred by the fact that cyberpunk music has its own variety of tones to suit different moods, ranging from placid, dream-poppy sounds evocative of Vangelis’ iconic score to Blade Runner to the industrial, noisy tracks of Grendel and Nine Inch Nails’ Year Zero. However, electronic music has been on the rise for roughly the past forty-five years–finding an over-produced pop singer in the past decade that doesn’t use sampling, autotuning, or synths in the songs written for them (barring Adele and the semi-recent bastardization of the indie scene by Mumford and Sons and their constituents) seems like a hopeless effort. I could be wrong, as I’ve steered clear of pointless, empty tunes blared on the outdated medium of radio since I became self-aware, but nevertheless I suggest you save yourself the agony of seeking one out. Furthermore, commonly cited cyberpunk musicians (such as Perturbator, Irving Force, and HKE) tend to wear their influences on their sleeves, drawing from formative ’80s artists essential to synthwave, retrowave, and darkwave as we know them. The general consensus of cyberpunk music seems to be that, if it makes you feel like you’re in a (retro-)futuristic nightclub or sounds like something you’d play while doxxing your enemies, it’s a welcome addition to the scene. But, in the immortal words of Bob Ross, sometimes you get happy little accidents. With what seems to be increasing frequency over the years, musicians that imbue their work with tones of modern anxiety, disenchantment, misanthropy, and anti-authoritarianism are relying less on analog instruments and more on digital ones, seemingly with little to no awareness of cyberpunk as a genre, as tends to happen in other media as well. While good ol’ rock and roll may never die out completely, the increasing popularity of digital influence in countercultural music may be indicative of a shift in modern mentality among music fans, giving way to the future we’ve been waiting for. We’ve covered musicians that have fit this bill squarely before (see our articles on Massive Attack, Theatre of Tragedy, David Bowie) but today we are setting our scanners on the band that may have started it all. Background The intertwined history of punk rock and new wave music is a messy one. Emerging around the same time, groups from both genres drew inspiration from similar countercultural sources, including the Velvet Underground, The Who, and Pink Floyd. However, as the new wave began to flesh out its more synth-focused sound, other bands with similar penchants for keyboards and cleaner guitars while trading enraged messages for bubblegum pop-inspired ones were considered to be a part of the same genre. This led to a slew of decidedly not-punk and, in retrospect, cheesy one-hit wonders, among them being the Buggles, Gary Numan, and A Flock of Seagulls, thus cementing society’s image of the genre. To make matters more confusing, the morose stylings of post-punk bands like The Cure, Tears for Fears, and Joy Division experimented with the new wave sound over time, causing them to fall into the same category by music critics. (And if you’re thinking Tears for Fears can’t be considered punk in any fashion, listen to the lyrics of “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” again–they’re describing an Orwellian nightmare, complete with a happy-go-lucky tune.) So ultimately, new wave is a mishmash of genres, its influences ranging from disco to prog and gothic rock, tied together only by a common love for guitars, keyboards, and funky hairdos. But then you have Depeche Mode, who bucked the trend of passive aggression in post-punk tunes and the feigned innocence of other new wave artists, fusing largely-apolitical punk mentality with the rising digital tide. First arriving on the scene in 1981 with their album Speak & Spell, the largely influential three-piece act has retained every debuting member over a nearly forty-year career, with Martin Gore performing as the chief songwriter and instrumentalist, Dave Gahan as co-songwriter and lead vocalist, and Andy Fletcher on keyboards. Even now, they continue to produce cynical, biting lyrics set to cold, aggressive, tech-heavy melodies. There’s a reason why their music has seen a revival in recent dystopian films and shows–although to be fair, it’s mostly been as covers and remixes relegated to promotional material. And despite their popularity over the years (particularly following Violator), the vast majority of Depeche Mode’s overlooked work maintains relevance and an attitude that any cyberpunk can appreciate to this day. Music for the Masses Over time, Depeche Mode has seemed to grow more and more in sync with the cyberpunk mentality, first experimenting with industrial elements in their music and later with tried-and-true tones that lend it a more timeless quality (although time will tell if I’m right about that), with each album growing darker than the last. Unfortunately, however, their earliest work has not aged gracefully; Speak & Spell is rife with pure, synthpop tracks with more similarity to The Cars’ jaunty, carefree stylings than something you might hear in a neon-lit bar populated by surly cyborgs. Additionally, the lyrical content is infamously homoerotic, earning Depeche Mode with a metrosexual status that they still haven’t quite been able to shake, and certain instrumentation incorporated into the album’s songs have long since been abandoned, for good reason. I cringe every time I hear the blaring electric trumpets in “Just Can’t Get Enough”. Still, there are bits and pieces in Speak & Spell that foreshadow the band’s future leanings toward a darker, more-fully-fleshed sound. DM’s sophomore effort, A Broken Frame, was a step in the right direction, eschewing the bright, poppy sounds of Speak & Spell for more moody tones, but they began truly finding their voice in 1983’s Construction Time Again, which marked the beginning of their obsession with power dynamics and incorporation of industrial elements. This is best exemplified by their single off the album, “Everything Counts”, which is a criticism of capitalistic greed and would feel right at home in an ‘80s cyberpunk film (even if the below video is pretty cheesy). From then on, the minds behind Depeche Mode really hit their stride, maintaining consistent lyrical content that deals with heavy, unsavory topics that line up so very well with a cynical worldview. While they haven’t quite adapted their lyrics to suit the digital era (though they toe the line every now and again), Gore and Gahan commonly express nihilism, misanthropy, hedonistic tendencies, and aimlessness in their lyrics, which to me, coupled with their darkwave-tangential leanings, speaks volumes of their high tech, low life vibe. While the band does have quite a few love songs in their discography—“love”, by the way, is a strange human phenomenon that sometimes occurs between individuals who aren’t neck-deep in schizoid tech and an inherent, paranoid distrust of others, and therefore has little wiggle room in cyberpunk culture—they are most often tinged with hints of pessimism, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste, as you can see in the impeccable “Enjoy the Silence”, and two of my personal favorites, “Halo” and “Perfect”. Just as often, however, Depeche Mode seems to delve into the topic of power dynamics in sex, suggesting (or sometimes explicitly referencing) a penchant for BDSM, the punkiest of kinks. While kinks have been around since the dawn of humankind, and the reason for their existence is disputed among researchers, as our technology has progressed (and most definitely with the explosion of the internet), we as a species seem to have become more and more dissociated from the concept of “normal” sexuality–or at least become more aware of this disparity among the masses—and dissociation is kind of cyberpunk’s thing. This attitude is reflected in many of Depeche Mode’s works, but is on its fullest display in “Personal Jesus” and “Stripped”—bonus points to the latter, the video of which looks like it takes place in the Scrapyard or Max Headroom’s city outskirts, complete with the band members garbed in black trench coats. Occasionally, this raw expression of sexuality will be colored a shade darker with songs like “Never Let Me Down Again“, “A Question of Time”, and “Soothe My Soul”, whose content, while initially distracted from by energetic riffs, adds to Depeche Mode’s lowlife cred. Speaking of Jesus, Gore has offered up scathing criticisms of religion in songs like “Blasphemous Rumours” and the excellent “John the Revelator”, but in a bit of a paradox (and in a manner that might interest cyberpunk philosophers) often weaves religious imagery into his writing, which may draw parallels to Blade Runner and The Matrix’s own obsessions with religious iconography. Songs of Faith and Devotion, Depeche Mode’s 1993 album, is a straight example of this, as is their 2005 release, Playing the Angel. “Jezebel”, which references a biblical figure that serves as an early predecessor to the modern femme fatale, feels like the theme song to a ruthless megacorporate executive. And finally, while it’s rare, Depeche Mode does make their voice heard now and again, infusing their music with openly political, anti-authoritarian sensibilities, as seen most recently in Spirit’s “Where’s the Revolution”, an electric backlash against encroaching dystopia in the modern age, and “Scum” from the same album.   The Bottom Line Depeche Mode may not be a perfect example of cyberpunk music—albums like Exciter and tracks like “Somebody” or even “Personal Jesus” distance themselves from the synth-heavy sound you might prefer in your jams to favor an analog-driven one. However, combining their gloomy, synthy instrumentation with Gahan’s somber baritone vocals referencing drug use, sexual debauchery (and sometimes comparing to relationships to dystopia), mistrust, and disillusionment all contribute to a mentality that the culture can certainly get behind. While the rest of us are just now waking up to the oppressive conditions we’ve been served by our corporate masters, Depeche Mode has been living it for decades. So what do you think? Is Depeche Mode worthy of the cyberpunk label? Leave your answer in the comment section below or on social media, and if you have suggestions for potentially-cyberpunk musicians that have formed outside the culture, send them our way.