Some Great Reward – The Album That Changed Everything
There are albums you listen to, and then there are albums that stay with you.
Some Great Reward definitely falls into the second category for me. As Depeche Mode’s fourth album, it was the record that finally pushed them into the spotlight. It is often regarded as the album that brought them into mainstream recognition. And in this context, ‘mainstream’ is not an insult. It’s a straightforward fact and well-deserved, which can inspire fans to appreciate the band’s journey and success.
The early 1980s were characterized by the rise of synthesizers and drum machines, and by the initial wave of sampling, which made music sound different. It sounded colder, more technical, and more mechanical. During this exciting transformation, Depeche Mode wholeheartedly embraced these new tools with boldness, fearlessness, and a spirit of no restraint.
What emerged was a sound that imprinted itself permanently into my mind and heart. I still recognize it instantly. Even after decades, whenever a new Depeche Mode single starts playing on the radio, I immediately know: this is Depeche Mode. No doubt, no second thoughts.
Although the band has experienced many stylistic changes over the years, that core identity has remained constant. It is on Some Great Reward that it truly solidified.
I still remember the first time I held the record in my hands. The vinyl was grey, matching the album cover perfectly.
No bright colors. No glossy promises. No pop-star glamour. Instead: restraint. Industrial aesthetics. A kind of seriousness that felt almost confrontational. Even before the needle touched the record, it was clear this album demanded attention.
And then there is the overall arc. From the opening pulse of Something To Do, which drives forward with urgency, to the closing of the B-side with Blasphemous Rumours, this album doesn’t come across as just a collection of songs. Instead, it feels like a thoughtfully crafted journey.
On Some Great Reward, Depeche Mode revisits themes of repetitive labor and industrial routine. However, this time, these themes are pervasive, with factory noises, metallic sounds, and mechanical rhythms embedded throughout nearly every track.
This is music that works.
That grinds.
That functions like a machine itself.
And that is exactly its power. Depeche Mode does not romanticize industrial life. They reflect it. They turn monotony, alienation, and emotional distance into sound, creating music that feels almost tangible and architectural. It’s as if the music invites you to experience these feelings in a new, more visceral way.
You don’t just hear it. You inhabit it.
For many listeners, Some Great Reward is primarily associated with its first two singles: People Are People and Master and Servant.
Both songs are outstanding.
Yes, outstanding is a deliberate choice of words.
People Are People is more than a hit. It has become a hymn for the world we are living in today. A song that has lost none of its urgency, none of its bite. Its message about intolerance, othering, and the absurdity of hatred feels, if anything, even more painfully accurate now than it did in the mid-80s. The lyrics strip prejudice down to its simplest, most uncomfortable truth: how senseless it all is. Wrapped in an infectious, almost deceptively upbeat rhythm, the song forces you to dance while confronting realities we still seem unable, or unwilling, to overcome. That tension between movement and meaning is what makes People Are People timeless. It doesn’t lecture. It states. And decades later, it still holds up a mirror to society, one many would rather avoid looking into.
Master and Servant pushes even further. More provocative. More ambiguous. A song that explores power, control, and submission. Politically and sexually. In the mid-80s, this was anything but safe territory for a pop band. And yet, Depeche Mode went there without blinking.
The 1980s were also the golden age of the 12-inch single, and the maxi versions of these tracks remain unbeaten at the very top of my personal favorites list. The splatter-vinyl pressings only add to the experience, sonically, visually, and emotionally. Vinyl here is not just a medium. It’s part of the message.
Despite their brilliance, it’s not the major hits that make Some Great Reward timeless for me. Instead, it’s the songs in between. The quieter moments and emotional counterbalances.
Right after the force of People Are People comes It Doesn’t Matter. A slow, reflective track that feels like a deliberate emotional brake. Where the previous song confronts, this one invites introspection. It creates space.
Every time I hear it, it still affects me deeply. Perhaps because it doesn’t explain itself. Perhaps because it allows uncertainty. Or perhaps because it dares to be vulnerable exactly where others would try to impress.
While the A-side begins with momentum and drive, the B-side is allowed a gentler opening. And that opening is Somebody.
Somebody was always the perfect song for a personal mixtape. How else did we express our teenage emotions back then, if not through music?
The song arrives almost casually, softly, with subtle background noises that make it feel intimate and unguarded. No grand gestures. No dramatic climax. Just closeness. It is a level of stylistic intelligence that very few artists ever achieve.
When Martin L. Gore performs Somebody live, vast arenas fall silent. Thousands of people stop moving. Stop talking. They listen. To the voice. To the melody. To the moment. For a few minutes, nothing else exists. And that is the definition of greatness.
The third single release, Blasphemous Rumours / Somebody, as a double A-side, sparked intense debate at the time. Not just among critics, but in schools, families, and youth culture.
How could such an infectious pop song address a suicide attempt, a fatal car accident, and doubt in God?
How could this be considered acceptable for young listeners?
Blasphemous Rumors was misunderstood as an invitation to self-harm, as dangerous and morally questionable. But it is none of those things. It is, instead, an invitation to question. To challenge theological certainty. To confront the uncomfortable idea that faith does not always provide answers.
The lyrics, which I can still sing word for word today, don’t glorify despair. They expose it. They leave the listener unsettled, and that discomfort is intentional.
Maybe the true controversy wasn’t about the topic itself, but about the unwillingness to provide comfort.
Looking back, Some Great Reward seems less like a snapshot of the 1980s and more like a message from the future. Although the machines may sound outdated to some and the production clearly reflects its time, the themes remain relevant and have aged with a disturbing elegance. Issues of power, control, faith, doubt, empathy, and division continue to resonate today. In fact, they seem to have intensified over time.
People Are People stands at the center of this realization. What once felt like a sharp comment on its time now reads as a sober observation of ours. A reminder that progress is not linear and that the most obvious truths are often the hardest to live by. The fact that this song still feels necessary today is both its strength and its quiet accusation.
That is why this album never fades into nostalgia for me. It does not invite me to look back fondly. It asks me to listen again. To question again. To feel again. Some Great Reward does not comfort. It accompanies. And sometimes, that is exactly what music should do.
In the next Vinyl Story, I will step away from the Depeche Mode universe for a while and look somewhere completely different.
But the standard this record set, its urgency, its honesty, and its refusal to look away, stays with me.
Edited with the help of Grammarly.
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