Therapy? - A Rough Guide

If you didn't go through your teenage years in the early-to-mid 1990s you probably don't know who Therapy? are, and that's a real shame. Let's just take a moment to reflect on how remiss you have been getting through life so far without them.

Here's a belt. Feel free to flagellate yourself thoroughly.

All done? Lovely. Now while you're mopping the blood off the walls, have a listen to the following tunes.

Therapy? started as a threepiece in Belfast at the sodden arse-end of the 1980s, fuelled by industrial punk nightmares and feverish European electronic sensibilities. Their first two mini-albums, 1991's "Babyteeth" and 1992's "Pleasure Death" are obviously influenced by the likes of Big Black and The Jesus Lizard - but they manage to be somehow denser and more claustrophobic, melodic punk whistled through a serial killer's broken front teeth. Andy Cairns' vocals are a death threat overheard on a busy street, while Michael McKeegan's pulsating bass underpins everything else like a twisted disco beat.

Therapy? - 'Innocent X' - 1991 - from "Babyteeth"

Their first full album followed soon after, and loosens up the metronome drum patterns ever so slightly, letting the songs breathe out in the open. Raw buzzsaw guitars and distant wailing vocals are still the formula, but the end result is ever so slightly more friendly. But the unhinged dementia is still waiting in the wings, a squealing mental breakdown all the more terrifying for being hidden in the open.

Therapy? - 'Teethgrinder' - 1992 - from "Nurse"

And then everything changed. A series of EPs and singles were followed in 1994 by "Troublegum", which might just be the greatest pop-punk record ever recorded. Packed to the gills with melody, soaring choruses and infectious riffs, all of the torment and nihilism here were embedded firmly in the lyrics rather than edging their way clear into torturous music. At its heart, it isn't any lighter an LP than Therapy?'s early work. It's just better at covering the scars with brightly coloured balloons and manic smiles. Modest chart success followed for the likes of 'Screamager', 'Nowhere' and 'Die Laughing', and some high profile festival slots and tours put the word around that the band were maybe going to make it bigger than one could have expected from an oddball industro-punk squall from Northern Ireland.

Therapy? - 'Screamager' - 1994 - from "Troublegum"

So they changed everything, pretty much. Why not? Stagnation is a killer. The very next year "Infernal Love" hit the shelves, and while many of their newly acquired fanbase were put off by a record that slotted in an uncomfortable art-rock wet dream for every summer-bright pop tune, it is a record that stands firmly as their second best work. With the benefit of hindsight from the salty shores of 2014, it's a classic. But back then, the fickle UK music press and even more fickle alternative rock fans met it with a lukewarm response at best. But it's the sound of a band maturing and undergoing massive nihilistic trauma at the same time, and who doesn't want that in their life?

Therapy? - 'A Moment Of Clarity' - 1995 - from "Infernal Love"

Changes followed, as they often do in the midst of turbulence. Founding drummer Fyfe Ewing departed the band, taking his staccato rhythms with him. As well as replacing him with Graham Hopkins, they also incorporated Martin McCarrick on cello and guitar. A fourpiece for the first time, this more traditional rock band lineup resulted in a more traditional punk rock sound. 1998's "Semi-Detached" was to lay down a blueprint for the many variations in their sound that have followed since, as a raw garage vibe was laid across most of the tracks. Less pop, more punk.

Therapy? - 'Church Of Noise' - 1998 - from "Semi-Detached"

This raw punk aesthetic was pumped up even further for 1999's "Suicide Pact - You First", which was a fuzzy battleground of growling cynicism sprinkled with the occasional melancholy escape hatch - such as the superb 'Six Mile Water', which is solid proof that they should write an alt. country record at some point. The LP also seemed to mark a turning point in Therapy?'s career, which shifted inexorably towards a lack of interest from the press and survival primarily through a ferociously loyal (though smaller) fanbase. That's the story for the UK, in any case. I suspect they still make new sales in Europe, where folk seem less concerned about what haircut a lead singer has.

Therapy? - 'Six Mile Water' - 1999 - from "Suicide Pact - You First"

2001 saw Therapy? record what I consider to be their only stinker of an album to date, the ironically titled "Shameless". All the deities created by mankind love you if you can hack it, but a couple of singles aside I find it thoroughly underwhelming. So moving swiftly on. 2003's "High Anxiety" was a return to form of sorts. Not a groundbreaking work by any means, but definitely carrying on the legacy established by "Semi-Detached" in its packaging of punk rock tempered by the band's ongoing talent for a soaring chorus hook. Neil Cooper also arrived on drums, and has marked his place in the band with a penchant for a rolling punk rock percussive assault that suits their later material well.

Therapy? - 'If It Kills Me' - 2003 - from "High Anxiety"

Martin McCarrick departed soon after, which is a shame for him since the last great Therapy? record to date, "Never Apologise Never Explain" followed in 2004 and came as quite a surprise to most of their fans. A scuzzy hyperactive bullet-train of rumbling intensity, it is packed end-to-end with the sound of a rock band creating the rockiest rock they can rock. ROCK.

Therapy? - 'Die Like A Motherfucker' - 2004 - from "Never Apologise Never Explain"

I've always got the sense that Therapy? are uncomfortable following up an album with one that carries the same sensibilities as the last. I don't have a problem with that whatsoever, but it does make it really difficult to predict what direction on their ever-flailing trajectory the next recording will take. "One Cure Fits All" hit in 2006, and was in a sense the final entry in the melody/fuzz fusion trilogy that began with "Semi-Detached" and "High Anxiety". Said trilogy got patchier as time went by, but it still had some quality tunes on it.

Therapy? - 'Dopamine, Serotonin, Adrenaline' - 2006 - from "One Cure Fits All"

"Crooked Timber" followed in 2009, and was a slightly directionless mess of rock tunes that tried to pitch in every adjective I have previously used to describe their music. As a mish-mash of everything with songwriting that is below par for veterans of this caliber, it's not a must-have despite a couple of cracking songs in the middle. Their most recent LP is 2012's "A Brief Crack Of Light", and it comes across like a version of "Crooked Timber" that had a hell of a lot more work put into it. Or maybe a lot less, resulting in greater immediacy. Either way, the tunes are more tunely and the punch is more punchtastic. And it also proved that despite having been going all these years, they can still put out a killer single in the form of 'Living In The Shadow Of The Terrible Thing'.

Therapy? - 'Living In The Shadow Of The Terrible Thing' - 2012 - from "A Brief Crack Of Light"

Listen To A Whole Load Of Therapy? On Spotify HERE.

Essential Records: Babyteeth, Troublegum, Infernal Love, Never Apologise Never Explain

Godflesh - A Rough Guide

I have to confess to a real love for bands with names that tell you exactly what you are going to hear before the needle even drops to the wax. And it could never be said that anyone would listen to a band called Godflesh without expecting to have their aural canal battered mercilessly.

Formed in 1988 by Justin Broadrick and G.C. Green, the band already had an astonishing musical pedigree given that it was two teenagers bellowing about urban disillusionment. Broadrick had played for both grindcore pioneers Napalm Death (co-writing the first and superior half of their highly influential debut 'Scum') and noise rock obscuronauts Head Of David.

They wasted no time in outlining a manifesto of decay, intensity and brutal collapse. Unlike many bands, for Godflesh influences are to be woven together into an unrecognisable whole rather than worn on the sleeve. Thus from a heady concoction of '80s crusty punk, raw piercing industrial, spaced-out dub and experimental hip-hop comes the roaring wounded beast that was their eponymous debut EP. It's difficult to overstate just how different this was to anything that had come before it. The closest touchstone at the time was Ministry's work in transitioning from synthpop to something far more aggressive and evil, but beyond some superficial similarities in fusing guitars and electronics the comparison runs dry. At the time, there was simply nothing out there remotely like Godflesh.

Godflesh – 'Godflesh' – 1988 - “Weak Flesh”

The following year Broadrick and Green dropped 'Streetcleaner' on an unsuspecting audience of musical extremophiles. Still widely lauded as their best work (which I would disagree with), it takes the formula set down by their debut EP and fucks with it harshly. Forming a cogent whole that physically seethes with insignificant fury, to listen to this album is to invoke the absolute nadir of Thatcherite urban life. It is broken glass, shattered concrete and random violence written large under a banner of godless horror. Mechanised self-flagellating impotent apathy. Music to detonate council estates to.

Godflesh – 'Streetcleaner' – 1989 - “Christbait Rising”

A flurry of EPs followed through 1991, with Godflesh doing their subconscious level best to alienate the metal-oriented fanbase that had begun to build around them. This audience was an unintended consequence of releasing debut material so unrelentlessly punishing, and while it is remarkable now that more experimental material would piss off Godflesh listeners, the early '90s were a much more provincial time for metal. The Slavestate EP, and in particular the title track, took ahold of the spreading techno contagion and grasped it lovingly around the neck, finding yet another chemical infusion to inject into an already hæmorrhaging organ. This would not be the first time that Broadrick and Green would take a more popular electronic genre and crumple it into their own weeping shapes.

Godflesh – 'Slavestate' – 1991 - “Slavestate”

'Slateman' was released the same year, a single that was later fused with the 'Slavestate' EP for collectors and latecomers. It offers another fascinating early insight into a later direction, this time with a melodic underpinning that makes the buzzsaw guitars and Green's deep sea bass detonations into a thing of soaring beauty rather than a discomfiting trauma.

Godflesh – 'Slateman' – 1991 - “Slateman”

It's astonishing even now to consider how many boundaries were left crushed and broken in the wake of Godflesh's advance, before they had even inflicted a second full-length LP on the planet. 'Pure' arrived in 1992 and delivered 50% monstrous rolling metal set to beats that were in turn half early-'90s techno slowed down to heartbeat pace and half puncture wound-rhythm hip-hop. The other 50% of the record satisfied their more experimental urges with extended feedback and noise pieces that are at points exquisitely masochistic trials to endure. By spinning out the length and focus on some tracks, the duo had started to build the sense of churning hypnosis that would be so fundamental to their next album. Looking back on 'Pure' now it is easy to make some criticisms. The production isn't fantastic and both types of song have a tendency to bleed into one another – this does the job of painting a single portrait of the needle-swamped alleyway of British culture nicely, but also chokes the delivery before it can scream its name.

Godflesh – 'Pure' – 1992 ' - “Spite”

'Selfless' was voided into the world in 1994, and was (in my mind) the absolute perfected fusion of everything that had come before it. Brutal, hallucinogenic echoes in the silence. A more natural sound that nevertheless machine-tooled every single percussive concussion and tortured riff to unbelievable precision. Astonishingly produced and released partly by major label Columbia records, this would be Godflesh's only flirtation with mainstream distribution. In every way, 'Selfless' is a mad creature split between several worlds and all the better for it. Unlike the previous releases that meshed organic with mechanical in a blood-and-hydraulic fluid wreckage, this album sequences them together on a genetic level. It would also be where the real seeds of their influence on the world of post-metal would start to be overtly sown.

Godflesh – 'Selfless' – 1994 - “Xnoybis”

1996's 'Songs Of Love And Hate' continued the more organic feel of the previous record to a logical conclusion – replacing many of the beats with a drummer in the form of Brian Mantia (though some hip-hop influence is still clearly on display in the beats that remain), stripping back the sound to a more coherent song-oriented approach and turning every track into a controlled collapse. It's an extremely energetic and powerful record, maintaining the unmistakable bellowing control of Godflesh while dancing around the edge of more mainstream metal. It is, without a doubt, their most easily listenable record. For a crushingly heavy industrial metal album named for a Leonard Cohen LP, that's a hell of a trick. A remix collection of more of less the entire album followed - the imaginatively titled 'Love And Hate In Dub' - and is a darkly entrancing curiosity rather than a necessary investment.

Godflesh – 'Songs Of Love And Hate' – 1996 - “Wake”

Three years later Godflesh decide to fuck with everyone one more time with pretty much the opposite polar extreme of their sound. Electronics are pushed to the fore, guitars are stripped back to an underpinning and everything is suffused with an uncomfortable existential dread for 1999's “Us And Them”. It's sourceless drum n' bass-slathered body horror for a select and elite few, and it is the only time Godflesh have been beaten to the punch. Cubanate's 'Interference' emerged a year prior to this, and while the two are obviously distinct and vital records they carry the same internal agony to the bitter end. Thankfully, by this point the band had so inured their fanbase to a constantly shifting musical landscape they were happy to be pulled violently in whatever direction the duo desired. It is truly the most beautiful thing in existence when an audience matures enough to obviate the term 'sellout'.

Godflesh – 'Us And Them' – 1999 - “I, Me, Mine”

Of note for a decent overview of their albums to this point, as well as a collection of rarities, is the anthology 'In All Languages'. While summarising Godflesh's discography is an exercise in futility, it makes the best stab it is probably possible to make and is therefore a decent starting point. It also contains this slightly obscure gem from a 1989 compilation.

Godflesh – 'In All Languages' – 2001 - “Love Is A Dog From Hell”

Godflesh's final LP to date arrived in 2001, and 'Hymns' is an oddly appropriate coda. More stripped back and direct than any previous work, a live drummer in Ted Parsons is again brought on board to relegate electronic beats to the occasional background piece. Finally perhaps finding a balanced point between the melodic and the furious, it is a unique record that reduces what has come before without sacrificing integrity, quality or the inner emotional turmoil that enabled it all. It is the final whistling noises in the ears of Icarus three seconds before impact.

Godflesh – 'Hymns' – 2001 - “Regal”

The band imploded in 2002, with G.C. Green's departure and Broadrick's ensuing nervous breakdown. Throughout the timeline of Godflesh, Broadrick had released hordes of side project material and continues to do so, as well as being the central force behind the masterful post-metal/shoegaze act Jesu. In 2012 the duo reunited for some live shows and potential new recordings. Beat the pack of inevitable awful hipster twats and get into Godflesh before they emerge. You will not regret it.

Listen To A Whole Load Of Godflesh On Spotify HERE.

Essential Records: Streetcleaner, Selfless, Us And Them, Hymns

Alkaline Trio - A Rough Guide

Alkaline Trio. In the world of the alternative mainstream, they would seem to be a dead cert for stardom. Melodic, catchy, lyrics about murdering people then running off to wash your hands in a river. And don't get me wrong, they have had plenty of success and recognition. I'm pretty sure none of them will ever need to turn tricks on the street-corner again. But hold them up against their pop-punk peers and it is odd that they haven't achieved the same levels of worldwide fame.

Or maybe it isn't.

And maybe that's a good thing. After all, then everyone would like them and people like me would have to pretend they sucked to maintain our fragile veneer of aloof credibility.

Let's have a wee look inside their crimson-and-black painted box of wry horrors, shall we?

Kicking off in 1996 Illinois with a flurry of EPs, the band (Matt Skiba being the only founding member currently remaining) found their feet proper with the foundation of Dan Andriano on bass and co-vocals – an addition that led to the two-headed beast of songwriting and vocal duties they ride to this day. Debut album 'Goddamnit' was spat out in 1998, and shows a surprising maturity given the youth of the band and the undeniable – indeed, self-conscious and proactively - immature nature of the American pop-punk scene. Lyrically it deals with much of what they would concern themselves with for the years to come. Failed romance, addiction, wry observations about friendship and loss. Never one to club you over the head with meaning, even this early in their career Alkaline Trio preferred to sidle up to you stealthily and whisper these things into your ear underneath the melody.

Alkaline Trio – 'Goddamnit' – 1998 - “Nose Over Tail”

'Maybe I'll Catch Fire' followed up in 2000 – and for many old-school fans is their definitive record. Again, it displayed shocking variety and incisiveness for a band in the early stages of their career. It ratcheted back the speed and pure pop-punk bounce somewhat, instead introducing elements of classic rock that they have sneakily kicked around in plain sight since, to varied levels of success. Album closer “Radio” is the solution to every tender quiet song by an alternative band feeding off the mainstream. At this point the band were still regularly releasing EPs, which are also worthy of attention once you have exhausted their LP output.

Alkaline Trio – 'Maybe I'll Catch Fire' – 2000 - “Radio”

A switch in labels and some attention from music journalism worldwide led to the increased success for third record 'From Here To Infirmary', which was undeniably slicker and less raw than their earlier work – both in terms of songwriting and production. It was the start of what can be seen as the band's middle incarnation, which brought them their most immediate success and is in my mind their best work. It kicked them much further into the public eye, but still denied them the headlining recognition many of their peers were to receive. I've touched on that above, but I suppose the real reason is that Alkaline Trio's feelgoods come with a huge, overbearing caveat. They are frequently songs about redemption in one form or another, but it is a pessimistic redemption that is uncertain of ever achieving a lasting success. Murky stuff if all you want is a three-minute three-chord riff to bounce to on a sunny day.

Alkaline Trio – 'From Here To Infirmary' – 2001 - “Take Lots With Alcohol”

I'm not usually a massive fan of split records – I find that bands tend to relegate songs they're not quite happy with to them, since they're not being released under a single banner – but of note at this point was a split EP recorded with the similarly excellent Hot Water Music, who will likely get covered in another chapter of this series. Featuring the bands covering each others' songs as well as a few new tracks, it was notable that Alk3's songs were a bit less straight-forward pop-punk in structure than they had been before. A sign of things to come.

Alkaline Trio – 'Alkaline Trio/Hot Water Music' – 2002 - “Queen Of Pain”

2003's 'Good Mourning' solidified this shift with the majority of the tracks stretching themselves out from their simplistic, if well-crafted, origins to something that straddled the borders of downbeat melodic pop-punk and straight-up mournful hard rock like some kind of thrashing flame-drenched creature. It exemplifies exactly what the band does best, reaching out from a place of dour self-reflection to cheerfully smack you across the cheeks with a shiteating grin. If you start anywhere with Alkaline Trio (and you really should), then start here. Like so many bands, the best work lies in this transition record between two states. In addition, at least part of this is likely down to the band actually settling on a drummer – with Derek Grant's furious attack frequently matching the lyricists' dark melodies perfectly.

Alkaline Trio – 'Good Mourning' – 2003 - “This Could Be Love”

Most of the songs I use in these come from records, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention possibly their best song - “Warbrain”, off the slightly-embarrassing-now-titled 'Rock Against Bush Vol.1' complilation. Yeesh. How 2004. It's also available on the excellent odds n' sods record 'Remains', from 2007. So. Y'know. Get that instead.

Alkaline Trio – 'Rock Against Bush, Vol.1' compilation – 2004 - “Warbrain”

The transition away from their raw punky origins was more or less complete with 2005's 'Crimson'. Certainly divisive among their fans at the time, looking back it's growing increasingly difficult to see where the fuss came from. They have done far worse things since, and the transition was really so natural as to be unnoticeable unless one is invested fully in their first couple of albums. It's definitely a rock record, as opposed to punk. And the slow creeping inevitability of repeating yourself with age means it comes across as more crafted and less directly honest. But it's still a solid album, introducing new gothic (and I use that word in the American sense of a bit creepy and sad rather than actually goth) elements and a penchant for using instrumentation other than guitars and drums that has served them in good stead since.

Alkaline Trio – 'Crimson' – 2005 - “The Poison”

Less favourable things can be said of 2008's 'Agony & Irony', without a doubt the lowpoint of their career to date. Advancing further into the dull comfort of adult rock, there really is little to recommend about the album over their others. It's not appalling and embarrassing in the way that many bands become when they fully shed their youthful energy, but for a band based around hooks and melodies there are surprisingly few on show. The one exception is this track from Dan Andriano, which I suppose proves that even their turds have the occasional blackened gem in them. Often overlooked, certainly in terms of singles, Andriano's contributions to their albums over the years have provided a steady pulse that Matt Skiba can dance around while crowing about flames and hearts and oh-so-dark things in the basement.

Alkaline Trio – 'Agony & Irony' – 2008 - “Do You Wanna Know?”

Touted as a return to their punk rock roots, 2010's 'This Addiction' certainly delivered a far more immediate and satisfying record than they had produced since 2003. The raw energy – and certainly the pining lyricism – seems a bit more forced than it had done previously, but for a band stepping over the corpses they had left behind them they were certainly not really putting a foot wrong. As an effort to recapture their glory years (creatively if not financially, since both 'Crimson' and 'Agony & Irony' were fairly resounding successes sales-wise) it's a solid one.

Alkaline Trio – 'This Addiction' – 2010 - “This Addiction”

And y'know, I only got the new album 'My Shame Is True' this week. So forgive me if I'm vague on it. But it seems like a decent if unremarkable follow-up to 'This Addiction', following a similar blueprint for their mid-period material with an up-to-date production sheen. Ask me again in five years, and maybe I'll hold a more controversial opinion on it. But for now, pitch yourself bodily into their back catalogue. If you're committed, make sure you're wildly laughing, covered in oil and flinging lighted matches around while you do it.

Alkaline Trio – 'My Shame Is True' – 2013 - “Midnight Blue”

Listen To A Whole Load Of Alkaline Trio On Spotify HERE

Essential Records: Maybe I'll Catch Fire, From Here To Infirmary, Alkaline Trio/Hot Water Music, Good Mourning, This Addiction

Killing Joke - A Rough Guide

So, what the hell is the point of this? Think of it as a rough guide to bands you should have been listening to for years. If you have been, then well done. You're one step ahead of the heaving, cursing masses. You may still get something out of these pieces – nostalgia, insight, the warm satisfaction of helping me achieve sexual release through the raw erotic pleasure I get from my hit counter notching up one more peon.

The format? 10 songs, drawn from as many different albums as possible. Linked through via the magic of YouTube, Spotify and other such wonders. Some hastily constructed words about them and the band themselves. Without any further ado, then.

Killing Joke. Post-punk chameleons hailing from the arse-end of 1970s London, they have been ridiculously influential on a frankly ludicrous number of musicians from a lurching cacophony of genres. Over the last 35 (FUCKING THIRTY-FIVE) years they have morphed into a number of shapes, most of which have managed to both leave their mark on a sound and maintain their trademark feverish post-apocalyptic tribal fury.

The first track is picked straight off their first EP, 'Turn To Red'. As well as being draped with their early imagery courtesy of graphic artist Mike Coles – a mixture of stark colours, clippings from propaganda, high-rise tenements and contorted harlequin faces – it sets out their stall with a relentless percussive beat, Jaz Coleman's snarling denouncements of modern society and a distant echoing sensation that conjures up the notion that it is being beamed straight into your cortex from a subverted spy satellite.

Killing Joke – 'Turn To Red' – 1979 - “Are You Receiving?”

The debut eponymous album followed within a year, and augmented the uncomfortable punk throb with a predilection for the melodic guitars and howls of the nascent modern metal scene. This cut is a standout from a surprisingly cogent and mature first album that, in a UK shimmering with the youthful glow of the second worldwide wave of punk, manages to feed on that energy while laying the groundworks for what would later become industrial rock and metal. In the north of England, Throbbing Gristle were busy contorting noise into music. Down in London, Killing Joke were utilising similar principles to contort music into noise.

Killing Joke – 'Killing Joke' – 1980 - “Requiem”

The title of 1981's second album, 'What's THIS For...!', is an apt demonstration of the principles of early Killing Joke - a non-sequitur lending purpose to futility. The sound remained largely similar to their debut, albeit with the improved production that tamed many a punk band instead lending a feeling of discordant discomfort that suited their wide-eyed unholy prophecy down to the ground. A more markedly tribal percussion from Big Paul Ferguson lent credence to their ongoing crusade, an intellectually violent wardance against the growing urban wasteland around them. The album as a whole is stunningly confident, crawling with an unclean madness that delivers you straight into the heart of Jaz Coleman's lyrics. Not entirely a pleasant place to be. This cut is also notable for having an obscure band named after it, that later delivered to the world the likes of Godflesh and Napalm Death.

Killing Joke – 'What's THIS For...!' - 1981 - “The Fall Of Because”

The following two albums ('Revelations' and 'Fire Dances') showed an increasing use of occult imagery, running parallel with an increasing sense of paranoia that led to most of the band relocating to Iceland in 1982 to avoid the oncoming apocalypse. Once this failed to appear, it isn't too much of a stretch to assume that the (presumably) sheepish return to their home shores helped to fuel the mellowing of their sound. This shift reached its apex with 1985's 'Night Time', which utilised their already established infectious rhythms to slot comfortably (as comfortable as Killing Joke could ever be said to be) into the burgeoning New Wave scene. While they haven't really held onto this position in the minds of the general populace in the intervening years, their quasi-pop sound was dark and unsettling enough to have lodged itself firmly into goth subculture. Nearly 30 years later, “Love Like Blood” is still a firm eyeliner-and-lace floorfiller. It's also worth noting that another track from this record, “Eighties”, contained a bassline so similar to Nirvana's “Come As You Are” that it inspired a court case that was only dropped when Kurt Cobain chowed down on the end of a shotgun.

Killing Joke – 'Night Time' – 1985 - “Love Like Blood”

Alongside the pulsing bass of Raven and the stabbing murder-pop guitars of Geordie, new influences started to bubble to the top of the steeped Killing Joke cauldron. 1986's underrated 'Brighter Than A Thousand Suns' felt no shame whatsoever in incorporating elements of prog and funk into a bubbling '80s conflict of sounds that functions surprisingly competently given the necessarily mercurial nature of the end result. This conflict played out both in public and behind the scenes, as fans decried their newer sound as being more commercial (which it undoubtedly was) and members of the band themselves began to feel uncomfortable with their direction. While still fundamentally Killing Joke and, I would argue, still breaking precious new ground, it was a long way indeed from the almost-frothing madness of their immediate post-punk work. Oddly, their increasing use of electronics was touted as a limiting factor – even though they had been enthusiastic users of electronics in both sampling and keyboards since their earliest recordings.

Killing Joke – 'Brighter Than A Thousand Suns' – 1986 - “Victory”

Inevitably, this mass breakdown of forward motion led to a collapse of the band with just Coleman and Geordie remaining afterwards. The final straw that led to this seems to have been the release of 1988's 'Outside The Gate', written and performed by said duo and the only Killing Joke album I cannot in all good faith recommend. Indulgent and faintly ludicrous with no seeming quality control whatsoever, it stands out as the only real turd in their long career. Moving on swiftly, Coleman and Geordie found themselves in desperate need of other people to actually complete the band. Eventually they managed to bring previous bassist Raven back on board, and recruited Martin Atkins on drums. The resulting industrial superstorm led to a renewal of their filthy creative juices which initially resulted in the barely restrained furious spasm that is 1990's 'Extremities, Dirt & Various Repressed Emotions'. Far more turbulent and unpleasant than anything they had produced since their early years, it is the classic example of a band reclaiming their own heritage by going back to their roots and finding the passion again. In the case of Killing Joke, this is of course the passion of a scrabrous street-corner prophet denouncing the habits of the great and good as he quotes Crowley and Malthus in equal measure.

Killing Joke – 'Extremities, Dirt & Various Repressed Emotions' – 1990 - “Money Is Not Our God”

However, this refreshed sense of purpose was almost slaughtered in the cradle when Jaz Coleman, quite predictably, chose to relocate himself to a remote Pacific island. Presumably to avoid another oncoming apocalypse. During the development of 'Laugh? I Nearly Bought One!', an anthology spanning a good deal of their career to date, the first Killing Joke bassist Youth managed to persuade Coleman away from his paranoia and back into the studio for a reformed band that jammed together various folk from all over the history of the band. The first product of this was 1994's 'Pandemonium', which managed to pick up the reigns of industrial rock from where Killing Joke left them hanging back in the early 1980s. With Middle Eastern sonic touches and unafraid to fully embrace their historic love for electronics, it is undoubtedly one of their records that can be said to be truly definitive. A raw, melodic howl into a void of half-remembered snippets from Victorian occult texts and semi-glimpsed fractal nightmares.

Killing Joke – 'Pandemonium' – 1994 - “Mathematics Of Chaos”

This lineup produced a follow-up in 1996's 'Democracy', a record which is fondly thought of by every Killing Joke fan except myself. It does most of the things 'Pandemonium' does, only calmer and with more optimism. I prefer my wide-eyed demented industrial post-punk frenzy with a bit more unbridled rage, thanks. The band hopped onto the extended hiatus train after that for their biggest fallow period to date. It would be seven years before we would hear from them again, but it was worth the wait. Returning in 2003 with their second eponymous album, the naming decision itself adequately summarised what they had done. A rebirth that put all those who had aped them over the intervening years to shame, the record was a wildly screaming kick to the chest that helped to restart the failing heart of the industrial metal scene. Without a doubt their heaviest album so far, it treads a beautiful line between accessible riffage and borderline certifiable supernaturally-tinged conspiracy theory. Perhaps surprisingly given their antagonistic history with Nirvana, Dave Grohl was brought on board to perform drums – he is of course absolutely spot-on, and blends perfectly with the shivering whole.

Killing Joke – 'Killing Joke' – 2003 - “Asteroid”

2006's 'Hosannas From The Basement Of Hell' was like an evil chimera of all their previous sounds at once – with urban industrial horror, racing punk bloodstreams and catapult-pitched melodic swansong all combining into a whole that just about manages to carry it off. It is essentially the noise passing through the head of a reborn 21^st century Jack The Ripper. While not their finest ever, it certainly cemented the clarity that even this late into their career Killing Joke could produce an album that sounded vital, fresh and – crucially – exactly like Killing Joke. Throughout the closing section of the standout title track, Coleman wretchedly roars “I'm not a murderer yet.” The sense of foreboding throughout is palpable.

Killing Joke – 'Hosannas From The Basement Of Hell' – 2006 - “Hosannas From The Basement Of Hell”

Raven's death in 2007 led to a more reflective record with 2010's 'Absolute Dissent'. Perhaps their most varied album to date, and doing an excellent job of stripping back their 21^st century sound to an experience that manages to be calmer – dare I say it, mature – while retaining a turbulent heart that carries the same essential message of social revolt and pessimistic despair for our species. 2012's 'MMXII' followed a similar pattern, albeit with a lesser degree of success. Over the long years Killing Joke have proved themselves a fascinating band, seemingly unable to rest on their laurels for long with an unshakeable sense of identity. My primary reason for hoping the end of mankind never arrives is that if it does, this band will have performed their function to completion and will therefore cease to be.

Killing Joke – 'Absolute Dissent' – 2010 - “In Excelsis”

Listen To Whole Load Of Killing Joke On Spotify HERE

Essential Records: Killing Joke (1980), What's THIS For...!, Night Time, Brighter Than A Thousand Suns, Pandemonium, Killing Joke (2003), Absolute Dissent

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