A sombre, slow-paced album that channels loss into celestial soundscapes.

Depeche Mode’s latest album, Memento Mori—Latin for “remember that you die”—arrives as an evocative meditation on mortality and reinvention. Though such a title suits the band’s brooding synth-rock ethos at any time, it takes on added poignancy in light of recent events. Conceived during the pandemic, with themes of loss already permeating its creation, the album gained further depth after the sudden death of founding member Andy “Fletch” Fletcher at age 60 from an aortic dissection last year.

Fletcher’s absence, akin to Charlie Watts leaving The Rolling Stones or John Entwistle departing The Who, has reshaped the band’s dynamic. Surviving members Martin Gore and Dave Gahan worked more closely than ever, enlisting collaborators like James Ford, who previously produced for Arctic Monkeys, experimental Italian producer Marta Salogni, and Richard Butler of Psychedelic Furs fame, who co-wrote four tracks.

The album opens with My Cosmos is Mine, setting the tone with industrial beats, minimalist melodies, and Gahan’s deep, deliberate delivery: “No rain, no clouds, no pain, no shrouds / No final breaths, no senseless deaths.” Throughout, guitars are scarce, with synths taking centre stage. Tracks like Never Let Me Go inject rare raw riffs, but others, like People Are Good, lean into vintage electronic motifs, evoking Kraftwerk. The moody Wagging Tongue could easily have come from their 1980s catalogue.

Despite its slow pace and sombre tone, the album’s emotional weight crescendos in Ghosts Again, a single whose grandiose sound contrasts with its introspective lyrics. The beatless finale, Speak to Me, reaches a celestial climax, embodying the album’s serious yet expansive spirit.

For Depeche Mode, now a duo, Memento Mori is more than a collection of songs; it’s a testament to resilience and renewal. Always a serious band, they make it clear with this album—they still have something profound to say.