Review of High Anxiety (2003)—Big Bottoms

by Ian Fortnam for Classic Rock (2003)

After an early, faultless upward career curve, Therapy? became experts at dying spectacularly on their backsides. Thank the lord, then, that their ability to kick gluteus maximus has returned.

The most charismatic quality that Therapy? have displayed since they initially emerged from Belfast in 1990 is their sheer tenacity. Admittedly, it’s not a strength that the band had any real cause to call upon during the initial five-year flush of their career; a sure-footed ascendancy from the acerbic proto-grunge collision of Babyteeth to the melodic, buzz-saw-driven, indie-metal angst of Troublegum. But as the band softened to ill-suited commerciality (with the string-soaked balladry of Infernal Love) their career went into a tailspin that saw the departure of original drummer Fyfe Ewing before the resounding flop of the under-promoted and over-produced Semi-Detached very nearly split the band apart.

If Last Blast is the set-up, then the truly ferocious Rust is the ultimate teeth-rattling sucker punch. An immense track, it is very probably the first true grunge classic in 10 years.

Without a record deal, and self-financed by ever-dwindling publishing royalties, Therapy? picked themselves up, dusted themselves down and decided to tour like never before; a timely cue for rookie drummer Graham Hopkins to break his arm if ever there was one. After yet another dark night of the soul, Andy Cairns’s and co ultimately elected to stick to their half-cocked guns and stoically soldiered on.

Disillusioned with the loathsome commercial sheen of Semi-Detached, they embraced the forthright experimentation of Suicide Pact—You First, which died spectacularly on its arse. Consequently, 2000’s So Much For The Ten Year Plan retrospective looked suspiciously like final closure on the latterly ill-starred Therapy? career.

But it wasn’t, of course. Andy Cairns, along with guitar-strangling cellist Martin McCarrick, long-standing bassist Michael McKeegan and new drummer Neil Cooper are back with this follow-up to the tentative return-to-the-fray promise of 2001’s Shameless.

On aural evidence alone Andy Cairns could be a hormone-compelled nineteen-year-old on his first date with an overdriven AC-30. And that’s not a bad thing.

In 2003 Therapy? need to release a killer album like never before. And they might just have done it. Not only does High Anxiety kick a fundamental quantity of gluteus maximus, it’s also an object lesson in trash-propelled melodic concision. On aural evidence alone Andy Cairns could be a hormone-compelled nineteen-year-old on his first date with an overdriven AC-30. And that’s not a bad thing.

Hey Satan—You Rock ploughs along like Marilyn Manson on happy drugs before Who Knows ups the harmonic ante with an irresistible riff-battered chorus to die for. Stand In Line swoons and phases heroically as guitars sear wantonly through the mix like scythes, Nobody Here But Us will rekindle your faith in the unquiet spirit of grunge, while Watch You Go swaggers with supreme confidence. If It Kills Me, Not In Any Name and My Voodoo Doll keep the punk pedal to the heavy metal, before Limbo shows that Therapy? still retain their grasp on compelling sonic schizophrenia.

But it’s the closing section of the album that probes the deepest into Andy Cairns’s inner psyche. If this record does ultimately prove to be Therapy?’s final shot at immortality, then he wants to go out with a bang. And here it comes. If Last Blast is the set-up, then the truly ferocious Rust is the ultimate teeth-rattling sucker punch. An immense track, it is very probably the first true grunge classic in 10 years.

High Anxiety is proof positive that Therapy? are a necessary evil once more.

Rating: 4/5.

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