Andy Fletcher was the last person to tell you why he was vital to Depeche Mode. At 101, the 1989 documentary touring documentary directed by DA Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus said, “Martin is the songwriter, Alan the good musician, Dave the vocalist, and I love it.” I knew there was so much more to it than that, but the man they all called Fletch didn’t feel the need to call.
Depeche Mode is one of the most popular and influential British bands of all time, but none of it makes sense in conventional terms. It shouldn’t be possible to lose your lead songwriter (Vince Clarke) after a single album and then get bigger and better. There were no precedents for a synth-pop band to evolve into a stadium rock band without playing rock music. It is unusual, if not unique, for one person to write the songs (Martin Gore) and another to sing them (Dave Gahan) with such conviction that it is hard to believe that they are not autobiographical. They have sold over 100 million albums and had dozens of hit singles while retaining the foreign appeal of a cult band, possibly the largest in the world, with no less than three documentaries made about their fandom. And all this from Basildon.
‘The glue that brought them together’ … Andrew Fletcher (right) with Martin Gore and Dave Gahan in 2012. Photo: Benoît Tessier / Reuters
The role of Fletch in Depeche Mode was something else that didn’t follow the rules. He was there from the beginning, playing bass with Clarke in a punk band called No Romance in China, then co-founding the electronic trio Composition of Sound before Gahan teamed up and beat them Depeche Mode. But over the years, fans have often wondered what exactly he did. Like the true believer in electronic pop, he was an important sounding board in the studio, but he did not sing or write songs. He played synthesizers, but not with the virtuosity of his former bandmate Alan Wilder, who resigned in 1995. Only once did he admit that doubts about his contribution bothered him. “Because I don’t put myself in the foreground, many people confuse me with the fifth wheel,” he said in 2013. “Sometimes it’s frustrating not to be taken seriously. After all, it could also be said that my job is the most important thing: without me there would be no more band. “
The importance of Fletch could be difficult to understand because she took on roles that are normally held by people outside of a band. For a time he was its quasi-manager, managing the business part of what effectively became a small corporation. At various times he owned a restaurant, invested in property, and ran his own label, Toast Hawaii. At the same time, he seemed to be the childhood friend that pop stars carry to make sure their feet are as close to the ground as possible. A natural extrovert, he became the band’s spokesman and ambassador, with a good side line in the DJ. (I saw him once at a club: he played a lot of Depeche Mode.) Inside the band, he was the diplomat, the tail that held them together.
“We Had Something” – How Andrew Fletcher of Depeche Mode Watched Music, Fans, and Band – Video
Anyone who studies pop music knows that bands are mysterious and delicate entities. Some (well, one: the Rolling Stones) have lasted for 60 years and others have gone out after two. It’s hard enough to stay together under pressure when you’re a mid-level indie band, let alone global superstars. What is required is the proper balance of personalities. Fletch was Gore’s best friend (born 15 days apart, they had a joint 50th birthday party), but he was so kind and selfless that he could serve as a solid bridge with Gahan when things got in the way. A pop star on paper, he found himself in the flesh as a deeply normal guy who liked beer, chess, Chelsea and very dry humor. I’ve never met anyone in a big band who wasn’t so affected by fame, but then, I’d say with relief, he wasn’t really famous.
This is not to say that Fletch was rock solid: she used to drink too much on stage and suffered a breakdown during the performance of Songs of Faith and Devotion in 1993, but in a band that once led a psychiatrist and a trafficker. of drugs on the road. he was still the sensible one. There was never a danger that he would try to steal the spotlight or drop his weight. He was a facilitator, and he was proud of that. When asked if he had a motto for life, he replied, “Safe and sound.”
Fletch was also a great entertainer for his own band. Fans loved him because he felt like one of us: a man who expressed his joyful enthusiasm for Depeche Mode from the stage instead of the crowd, moving behind his keyboard as if he couldn’t believe the your luck. It seemed that if you too had experienced the good fortune of growing up with one of the best composers of your generation, then it could be you up there. “We had an absolute dream career,” he said in 2017, adding with a characteristic euphemism, “At least if you take out those years that were a little messy.”
In 1996, during those “messy” years, Gahan died clinically for two minutes after a drug overdose. Fletch never seemed like the first member to leave. It’s hard to know what Depeche Mode will do now. Gore and Gahan could keep recording and spinning and your ears would not notice the difference. But Gore has lost his best friend and they have both lost someone who was a constant and constant presence in the band for 40 years. Only they know how essential Fletch was and how much she misses him.