The tunnel of infatuation...

There is this man.

A Brit.

A juvenile convict.
Who stole cars and vandalized streets.
Known as a ‘‘real wild boy, with a chip on his shoulder’’.

A recovering heroin addict.
That flakes every now and then.
Who tries to drown his sorrows.

A strikingly polarizing character.
That survived four brushes with death.
Otherwise known as "The Cat,"

This man,
Dave Gahan.

For those of you who don’t recognize him by his name.
The lead singer of Depeche Mode.

This character never hid who he was, he flat out confronted his past and accepted his present. He answers questions liberally and show cases his life the way it is. No frills nor denials.

This Dave Gahan was an infatuation to me when I was 16 I am now 27 and have not lost one bit of my infatuation for him. His tattoos are still sexy, he hair is still fucking awesome, his retro suits continue to amaze me (although he has swaped his shoulder padded blazers for some slim fit replacements) and his smile is still infectious.

Yes, I realize that these are all physical attributes that can give me the ‘tinglies’ but Dave’s undeniably baritone and forceful voice is the real orgasm behind his character. The atmosphere Dave creates is as passionate and equally intruding as Colin Farell and Rosario Dawson in the movie Alexander. Dave’s voice is Collin: emotional and commanding attention, the audience is Rosario: judging and submissive.

Dave’s voice fucks, not has sex, not makes loves, flat out fucks his audience.
There are artists that make love to their instruments like Tori Amos and her piano (which I will have to leave for another session) but a voice that genuinely fucks its audience is a rare find. Dave’s voice coupled with his stage performance is, like I said before, the real orgasmic experience.

Dave Gahan.
Keep being that person far way from passive voice, with so many strikes against your name.

You own the stage.