Speaking of gaps in my collection…before a few weeks ago, I’m not sure I ever intentionally listened to a single Depeche Mode song. Yes, I know this was a foolish move on my part. Yes, I know they’re regarded as one of the best bands of all time, casting a long shadow on pop culture that stretches from Marilyn Manson to Johnny Cash and beyond.

Fully aware of the huge mistake I had spent my life making, I bought Violator without hearing anything beyond the singles. It was a great decision.

As someone whose familiarity with Depeche Mode is almost entirely a result of cultural osmosis, Violator doesn’t offer much in the way of sonic surprises (nor should it). By reputation alone, I have come to understand that they are a huge puzzle piece in the chain between the new wave and goth of New Order and the Cure and the industrial grime of Nine Inch Nails. As someone obsessed with the minutia of genre taxonomy, this makes them a little difficult to pin down on their own. Is this synthpop? New Wave?  Goth? Industrial? It doesn’t fit neatly into any of them, but it helps fill in the evolutionary chain, like some sort of moody, synthy Missing Link between Power Corruption & Lies and Pretty Hate Machine.

The hits are obviously ubiquitous, and with good reason. “Personal Jesus” is a monolith, lampooning both commercialism and charlatan televangelists with so much subtlety that it was covered by both the aforementioned Marilyn Manson and Johnny Cash, each taking a very different interpretation. The sublime “Enjoy the Silence” manages to be both wholly tender and haunting, capturing both the joy love can bring and the anxiety that something might happen to it (which, as a relatively new father, is a sentiment I can relate to all too well). “Policy of Truth” is as stylish as synthpop can get, without needing to sacrifice any substance.

But while the singles are well worth the price of the disc on their own, the rest of the album never dips in quality. It is wall-to-wall bangers, filled with intricate textures, excellent countermelodies, and mood and mood and mood. Of particular note is “Waiting for Night,” a slow burn ballad that uses synthesizers with the skill of a classical composer. Anyone who doubts synths’ ability to convey organic emotion need look no further.

That emotional resonance is carried through the entire record, in no small part thanks to the vocals of Dave Gahan, who would have made a fine crooner if he had been born about thirty years earlier. Strip away the glitz of the keyboards and drum machines, and these songs could do just as well with a jazz combo providing accompaniment. They’re simply timeless tunes. And while the sonic palette does date it to a certain era, it’s not like these sounds have ever gone out of style. Several entries to the Top 40 over the last few decades have lived comfortably in Violator’s shadow, as well as scores of more underground acts that still look to Depeche Mode for guidance. I bought it blind simply on the strength of its legacy, and it is easy to see how that legacy was earned.