Religion a La Mode

By CHRISTOPHER JOHN FARLEY

PERFORMER: DEPECHE MODE

ALBUM: SONGS OF FAITH AND DEVOTION

LABEL: MUTE/SIRE

THE BOTTOM LINE: An alternative rock band looks heavenward for inspiration and nearly finds musical salvation.

AT A TIME WHEN NEW AGE SEEMS old, postmodern seems prehistoric and the anti- Establishment energy of grunge rock is being packaged and marketed like so many Cheez Doodles, Depeche Mode's musical vision of the future already seems a thing of the past: too-cool-to-care vocals, lyrics like something off an answering machine at a suicide hotline, industrial-strength dance grooves as unforgiving as capitalism itself. In retrospect, many of the band's angst- laden hits -- Master and Servant, Fly on the Windscreen -- now seem so terribly '80s, dispassionate, cold and metallic. Music written by androids, produced by cyborgs, performed by robots. Open the pod bay doors, HAL.

Now, with its new album, Depeche Mode has found faith. At its core, this is still the same band that was behind such antireligious hits as Personal Jesus and Blasphemous Rumours, but on Songs of Faith and Devotion, the group uses sacred symbols to add emotional weight to its typically secular songcraft, dropping words like heaven, soul and Babylon and such phrases as golden gates, kingdom comes and angels sing. Religious terms used to drive home a nonreligious point? Clearly this English alternative rock band is seeking a new covenant with its fans.

The album's first track, I Feel You, opens with a squeal of feedback. "You take me home/ To glory's throne," sings vocalist David Gahan. This time Gahan sounds as if he actually means the words. His vocals are rawer, more human; there's even a hint of optimism, a splash of erotic spirituality. The instrumentation goes beyond the usual techno-pop electronics; there are slashing guitars, not just impersonal synthesizers. One track, Judas, has bagpipes; the confessional One Caress features a 20-piece orchestra, including violins; and the almost cathartic Get Right with Me comes complete with a gospel chorus, as Gahan sings, "I will have faith in man . . . Friends, if you've lost your way/ You will find it again someday."

This is a slickly produced, highly listenable album, but there is in the end a certain failure of nerve. The kind of belief that Depeche Mode places at the core of these faux faith songs actually requires the kind of deep commitment that the band seems unwilling or unable to make. The gospel-tinged Get Right with Me cuts off before it culminates, just as the music and singing are reaching a climax. In other songs, the scanning of religious symbols becomes a numbing succession, like a bored teenager channel-surfing cable networks. Judas the betrayer. Zap. MTV. Zap. The heavenly host. It's religiosity chic and not the thing itself. Something essential is missing -- true faith perhaps. Zap. The trigger finger of Depeche Mode (French for fast fashion) flips the channel changer to the next emotion, the next trend.