Caught up in the tide of nearly 18,000 people, one feels in the hot breath and laughter and elbows of the masses both the homogenizing and electrifying effects of a venue as large as the Hollywood Bowl.  A docile crowd can send tens of thousands of watts scattering in the Bolton Canyon like so much piss in the wind and leave you feeling like you’re looking at a snow globe through a pinhole with headphones on. Last night’s crowd, fortunately, was anything but. Depeche Mode’s first night at the Bowl drew the faithful—on their feet and dancing jerkily in the allotted 2’x3’ box of personal space for almost the entirety of the 2-hour show.

The famously whistling Swedes Peter, Bjorn and John were foils to the gloomy Brits but, perhaps sensing that the crowd was craving some pain, kept their set quick and to the point. Peter Morén sang the infamous “Young Folks” solo, which gave the song a (perhaps fitting) lonelier resonance, but PBJ nevertheless delivered some pep into the last rays of sunshine. Depeche Mode began with a handful of songs from their twelfth and latest studio album Sounds of the Universe, and dutifully segued into a selection of their most crowd-pleasing hits, to which said crowd, suitably pleased, sang along and occasionally took over vocal duties.

Depeche frontman Dave Gahan showed no signs of weakness resulting from the battle of Dave’s Body vs. The World Tour—in which Dave’s Body has resorted to such absurd tactics as bladder tumors and gastroenteritis in its bid to foil the band’s plans for worldwide arena domination. Gahan counter-attacked by strutting back and forth across the stage, swinging mic stand in hand, windmilling his arms and swiveling his hips like an electric eggbeater.

The band delivered a healthy double encore, rounding out the night with the throbbing, bluesy “Personal Jesus” and a lullaby, “Waiting for the Night.” After trying valiantly for a third encore, devotees resigned themselves to the inevitable, Bowl became colander and drained into the streets.

—Ayse Arf