It is wise never to judge a book by its cover, but if you stare at the spindly, thorny flower on the cover of this album, you'll know exactly what you're about to hear. Songs of beauty, pain and longing, dipped in red against a black backdrop.

This is the zenith that Depeche Mode reached. There were still some growing pains (and some filler) on great albums like Some Great Reward, Black Celebration and Music for the Masses. And their early efforts, while fun and full of great tunes, do not compare song for song to the impact of this one. Their later efforts, with the exception of Exciter, also don't match the sheer perfection of this release, as the band was too busy trying to stay together to write flawless tune after flawless tune. I'm not saying to avoid the earlier or the later albums -- they all have their wonders and their flaws -- but start here, and you will understand why so many people live for this album.

Maybe it's the fact that the album is only nine songs long, with several musical interludes, that keeps everything focused. This album is the best rush, to hear each song uninterrupted. This must be what Trent Reznor meant when he sang of the perfect drug.

We open with World in My Eyes, where Dave Gahan seduces the listener with Martin Gore's velvet-tipped, thorn-hidden words. Alan Wilder provides the perfect backdrop that subtly supports and imbues the calling out of need and lust. And I have no idea what, if anything, Andrew "Fletch" Fletcher does on this album besides add his name to it (truly the Lol Tolhurst of DM). The music rises and falls with the words, leading to the realization that "That's all there is. Nothing more than you can touch now. That's all there is." Among the scenes of mountains, seas and unmapped terrains, Depeche Mode makes nihilism romantic.

Hear the voice that's opening Sweetest Perfection? That's Martin L. Gore, songsmith for Depeche. Recently, there's been an incident in the press where Dave Gahan, flush with success from his solo album, is complaining that Gore never lets him do any writing, and that the band is probably going to break up unless this changes. Well, Dave, I wish you all the success in the world. Nothing you pen will ever touch this outsider look of seeing your friend fall apart on drugs. Marty sings to Dave on this one. With its weight and heady undercurrents, this song seems to presage the coming onslaught of burn-outs and burn-downs that would darken Depeche's next offering, Songs of Faith and Devotion. Not to mention, just listen to Marty's voice. Pure, soft, innocent and defamed at the same time. We have a winner.

Personal Jesus takes a blues guitar motif and percussion stomp and turns them into one of the signature songs of flashback lunches. The "Reach out touch faith" mirrors an AT&T advert of that era -- "Reach out and touch someone." Only rather than simply reaching out to connect for some conversation, this song has Dave moaning to be called, so he can save the person on the other end and perhaps save himself, too (and he's willing to do whatever it takes, and I mean anything). An aching, intimate passion, this one.

Halo lives and breathes on a stuttering synthesizer figure that seems to jab and poke at Dave's calm singing in the verses, and blows up into walls coming down in the choruses. One of the hidden treasures on this album -- whenever they do this one live, the walls do come down.

Waiting for the Night aches with beauty and introspection. The synthesizer never reaches above a bright bass hum, with vague horn sounds and strings like a broken fanfare at the end. This song is so quietly and gently enveloped in its own atmosphere of pensive thoughts, you may have to listen to it a few times to realize it's a stark attack on society's ability to close its eyes to trouble and pretend things are perfect. One of the classics, that leads into a song so exquisite, I don't know how we deserve it (it will be worth it).

Enjoy the Silence. A song that, even thinking about it, brings a tear to my eye. To take all of life's pains and trials, and stuff it into the meaning of a kiss, a wish deferred. Martin Gore recognizes that words are imperfect mediums for thoughts, and thoughts are imperfect mediums for sensation, so he kills the words in order to better feel. No vows tonight. No sweet wishes and nothings and lies whispered between lovers. "All I ever wanted, all I ever needed is here in my arms," Dave sings. "Words are very unnecessary. They can only do harm." This song takes the implicit pact of World in My Eyes -- live for the feeling -- and spreads it like stars into the sky. Thank god for music like this.

There's a slyness to following Enjoy the Silence with Policy of Truth, a song about being snared in the hypocrisy of words ... honest words. "You will always wonder how it could have been if you'd only lied." This isn't a song striking down false promises and pillow talk, but a song detailing the horrors of telling the truth. The fact that it's eminently dancable -- involving your whole body in a song about the beauty of lying -- just seals the pact. You should come away with knowledge, and a big, nasty grin.

Marty steps to the fore again to deliver Blue Dress. He sounds about ready to cry, waiting for his girl (at least, I think it's a girl, you can't really tell with Marty) to put on a blue dress and dance for him, modeling it. Marty realizes that this is a small, trivial thing -- but "something so worthless serves a purpose" he defends, and ends with "because when you learn you'll know what makes the world turn." There's almost a threat in that, making it all the more sexy.

The album ends with the submerged, watery Clean, given to Dave to sing. This is long before he almost ODed on a speedball, giving the song a bitter irony and unavoidable conclusion. Now, Dave sings about the wonders of being clean, of kicking the habit, but there's something in his voice that romanticizes and longs for the drugs even as he's condemning them. The music gets creepier and more confused, as Marty allows "Sometimes" in a creepier and more confused voice, undercutting the premise of the song and leaving us with final thoughts that can no more be expressed than explained.

This album is perfect for a moonlit drive. Actually, no, it IS a moonlit drive, with shapes swarming and resolving themselves in the headlights only to disperse once past the glare; with the freeway lanes seeming to light up like rows of candles; with the perfect song on the radio, playing into another perfect song, and another.

Need this.

Recommended: Yes