nder the Covers is a fortnightly column concerning the packaging, artwork, and design that goes into albums. Sometimes you can judge a book by its cover.

Massively influential and going through yet another critical evaluation as we speak, Depeche Mode perform an interesting musical balancing act. Merging the human with the machine may not be that rare now, or even then, but their ability to merge the inane and the political, the perverted and the saintly, leaves them still in a field of their own.

💿 Speak & Spell (1981) →

1981’s electronic learning aid indebted title Speak and Spell doesn’t represent its origin in the cover art. Attempting to balance a sense of minimal style with a slice of colour, the overblown pompous and generally odd image of a Swan in a bridal veil says little about the contents. The album’s refreshing (and perhaps now a little sonically dated) synth pop probably needed imagery that was sleek primary coloured chrome. Sure, it stands out from the rest of the covers of the time. But that’s because it resembles a discarded drawing board 4AD LP cover. An embarrassing start.

💿 A Broken Frame (1982) →

With principal songwriter Vince Clarke having flown the coop (to start Yazoo with Alison Moyet ) 1982’s A Broken Frame saw the band nearly starting from scratch with heavy expectations for Martin Gore’s songs. The cover’s “cutting the corn” analogy symbolised this new start and the cover’s representation of man utilising modern (well, modern opposed to flint) tools to get his job done could perhaps symbolise their use of technology to achieve their aims. The imposing dark storm clouds above perhaps a forewarning of the darker side to Gore’s lyrics which were soon to become a staple ingredient of their pop.

💿 Construction Time Again (1983) →

Another year on and Construction Time Again moved the band’s sound onwards with the frisson of new industrial sounds. The addition of Alan Wilder’s technical skills and the influence of mechanical noises made for thicker and more constructed musical backdrops to Gore’s increasingly strong songs. The cover shot uses what could be a Communist worker image once again juxtaposing man with tool against nature; this time building / smashing instead of harvesting / cutting back. The vast blue skies and the towering mountain range ahead make for a more positive calming image than the music itself does.

💿 Some Great Reward (1984) → 💿 Black Celebration (1986) →

1984’s Some Great Reward features about as obvious a statement as you can get: the cover represents the actual marriage of human sounds/emotions with their increasingly mechanical dark industrial production style. The sarcastic title is further reflected in black balladeering pieces like “Blasphemous Rumours” and “Master and Servants,” with their open connotations to atheism and S&M, things not obviously associated with the institution of marriage or conventional lifestyles. The art for 1986’s Black Celebration mined the same seam combining roses, the universal symbol of romance, with an imposing back and neon Bladerunner style skyscraper / church. With Gore’s wicked lyrical side now regularly overwhelming his syrupy romanticism, these covers represent that aspect of their music.

💿 Music for the Masses (1987) →

Perhaps sensing the world of international commerce around the corner, the artwork for Music for the Masses is decidedly lighter and much less obviously oppressive than the last few LPs. But the image of the speakers / sirens can bring to mind less instantly apparent intentions. Are they primary coloured air raid sirens, Muzak loudspeakers, or perhaps even internment camp speakers? Are they pumping out what the public wants or what the public gets? There is further ambiguity in this heavily stylised cover with the use of colour in the skies which could either be seen as dawn or dusk, and the positive / negative connotations of those times of day.

💿 101 (1989) →

The success of Music for the Masses saw the band hitting the international concert trail and culminated in the release of 101 in 1989. Taking a break from recording while touring their arses off, this stop-gap live LP showed the band utilising their image to sell records. It’s important, though, because it’s the first time that the band revealed themselves via an album cover. The cover is a crisp black and white Anton Corbijn shot of a Depeche Mode gig merchandise stand. The shot manages to be tongue-in-cheek and conventional at the same time. Corbijn shows the saleable representations of the band, but still avoids the standard cover shot.

💿 Violator (1990) →

A new decade and another Corbjin cover shoot—1990’s simplistic and beautiful Violator cover. The single blood red rose has a Warholian aspect to it, combining the singular individual beauty of the object with the fact that the image has been so heavily colour processed and therefore easily repeated / copied. The album’s sneaking use of live instrumentation blended well with the shaper more modern beats and sounds.

💿 Songs of Faith and Devotion (1993) →

1993 the year Depeche Mode consolidated the success of Violator with the stadium rockness of the massive Songs of Faith and Devotion. Its collage style cover looks sloppy and almost like it was potato printed, while the colour scheme seems very clearly attempting to generate a dark and deep Goth feel. With the band’s faces on the cover (was there any need for Andy Fletcher to be wearing sunglasses during this indoor shoot?) and the more prominent anthemic feel to the songs there is an egocentricity to the visuals of this LP. As Gahan pushed Gore to make the LP more guitar-led to fit his LA speedball NiN-loving new life, the strong songs suffered under the weight.

💿 Ultra (1997) →

With Alan Wilder’s departure and Gahan’s stints in rehab a recent memory, it was a dark time for the band. 1997’s Ultra looks like an ugly album with its nasty, purple bruised colour scheme and the industrial stencil lettering across something that is possibly flesh. The physical and mental fallout of the band is touched upon lyrically, Gore seeing through Gahan’s eyes with songs like “It’s No Good,” and while the production is grimily modern it’s the melodies that seem to be in short supply.

💿 Exciter (2001) →

Another long gap saw Exciter land in 2001 with a truly un-Depeche Mode LP cover. A totally organic image of a plant (is it some sort of artichoke?) taking up the whole cover was quite a step for the band, even the white title / band name text is handwritten. One of their finest covers, it’s a lot more subtle than their previous artwork with the shades of green and lighter colours created by the sun’s shadows. The songs combine the stronger playing of Gore on guitar and an increased reliance on more notes and textures, as opposed to repeating riffs. For a group who started in 1981 this is a strong album with fresh inspiring imagery—a resounding success.