Bad Medicine

Francis Jones gets some music Therapy?

One Cure Fits All (Spitfire Records)

They’re back, exile sons of Sodom and Gomorrah, rock and roll’s bastard sons, the supremely sinister, sonically excellent Therapy? This is a musical jihad and One Cure Fits All their thirteen strong brigade of zealous song. Opening in soothing washes of ambient noise and filtered voice you could be forgiving for thinking you’d stuck the wrong record on the stereo.

However, best not get too comfortable granddad, for thirty seconds later it all kicks off. ‘Sprung’ is a devastating crusade of roiling rhythms, the bass of Michael McKeegan and drums of Neil Cooper driving this musical siege machine ever-forward.

Andy Cairns' guitar scythes down the doubters, sharp and menacing it provides cruel counterpoint to the despairing vocal, a lyric which mingles futility and determination. There are so many tracks here which stand comparison to the very best in the Therapy? canon. Songs such as ‘Deluded Son’, all hellish hooks and heart-palpitating rhythms or ‘Private Nobody’ an unforgiving cavalcade of caustic noise, these are tracks that recall the career zenith of Nurse.

As ever the prevailing themes are isolation and pained dejection, and if we were being especially critical it would seem that in this respect the band have progressed little from their inception. Indeed Therapy? seem to revel in such relentless and unseemly despair.

Nonetheless, no-one can quite give sonic form to raging alienation as well as our perennial outsiders and what they lack in narrative and lyrical invention they more than make up for in the divergent nature of their music. For One Cure Fits All is more than mere sound and fury. The pivotal track here ‘Dopamine, Serotonin and Adrenaline’ is an almost tender entreaty, a seeking for an elusive peace of mind,

God take me somewhere, anywhere but here.
One cure fits all. Dopamine, Serotonin and Adrenaline

Eleven studio albums into their career and the Therapy? trio refuse to call a truce in the turf war for our affections, they are, as ever, determined that their Church of Noise reign supreme. Hallelujah.