So Much for the 30 Year Plan

Young Simon

Description

‘Before we recorded Infernal Love, I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I developed quite a healthy drug habit and was drinking a bottle of Absolut vodka every day. I thought that if I gave up drinking, I’d spend the next two weeks lying in bed and feeling sick. I decided to keep going and see if inspiration would hit …’ Andy Cairns, Therapy?

So Much For The 30 Year Plan is the first ever book to detail the life of Therapy?, one of rock’s boldest and most idiosyncratic acts. Written with the full co-operation of the band’s current members—front man Andy Cairns, bassist Michael McKeegan, and drummer Neil Cooper—this official biography explores the dizzying highs and crushing lows they have experienced while navigating a three-decade-long career. 

Featuring extensive interviews with the band and key figures from throughout their career, So Much For The 30 Year Plan offers insights into the band’s origins in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, the backlash they received from the underground scene after signing to a major label, the birth of their million-selling 1994 album Troublegum, the full story behind their split with founding member Fyfe Ewing, and much more. 

Published to coincide with the band’s thirtieth anniversary, this is essential reading for all Therapy? fans—and for anyone with an interest in the alternative music of the era.

Sujets

• Musique
• Culture musicale
• Histoire de la musique
• Styles
• Genres
• Rock
• Music

Informations

• Publié par: Jawbone Press
• Date de parution: 22 septembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781911036647
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

A Jawbone book
First edition 2020
Published in the UK and the USA by
Jawbone Press
Office G1
141–157 Acre Lane
London SW2 5UA
England
www.jawbonepress.com
Volume copyright © 2020 Outline Press Ltd. Text copyright © Simon Young. All rights reserved. No part of this book covered by the copyrights hereon may be reproduced or copied in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews where the source should be made clear. For more information contact the publishers.

CONTENTS
YEAR ZERO/1989
PART ONE/skyward
YEAR ONE/1990
YEAR TWO/1991
YEAR THREE/1992
YEAR FOUR/1993
YEAR FIVE/1994
YEAR SIX/1995
YEAR SEVEN/1996
YEAR EIGHT/1997
YEAR NINE/1998
YEAR TEN/1999
PART TWO/going nowhere?
YEAR ELEVEN/2000
YEAR TWELVE/2001
YEAR THIRTEEN/2002
YEAR FOURTEEN/2003
YEAR FIFTEEN/2004
YEAR SIXTEEN/2005
YEAR SEVENTEEN/2006
YEAR EIGHTEEN/2007
YEAR NINETEEN/2008
YEAR TWENTY/2009
PART THREE/rise up
YEAR TWENTY-ONE/2010
YEAR TWENTY-TWO/2011
YEAR TWENTY-THREE/2012
YEAR TWENTY-FOUR/2013
YEAR TWENTY-FIVE/2014
YEAR TWENTY-SIX/2015
YEAR TWENTY-SEVEN/2016
YEAR TWENTY-EIGHT/2017
YEAR TWENTY-NINE/2018
YEAR THIRTY/2019
EPILOGUE/2020
AUTHOR’S NOTE
1989
YEAR ZERO/introduction
‘We all love playing, and we love music … we’re all having the time of our lives,’ said Andy Cairns, over the distant throb of an outdoor show. ‘If it ever stops feeling like that, then we’ll stop doing it. We’re just really grateful to be in the position we’re in.’
Sat on the grass at Castle Donington’s Monsters Of Rock festival on June 4 1994, the Therapy? frontman—joined by bassist Michael McKeegan and the band’s then drummer, Fyfe Ewing—was reflecting on their rapidly growing profile during a filmed television interview with presenter Vanessa Warwick for MTV’s Headbangers Ball . Their second full-length album, Troublegum , had been out for only a matter of months, and they were selling copies as fast as their label’s pressing plant could manufacture them.
The Ulster trio had just played on the main stage, in a teatime slot bookended by Ozzy Osbourne guitarist Zakk Wylde’s new band Pride & Glory and the sledgehammer-heavy one-two of Pantera and Sepultura. Moments before walking on stage, the band—who’d enjoyed a run of chart success with a series of irresistibly catchy alt-rock singles that year in the run up to the album: ‘Nowhere’, ‘Trigger Inside’, and ‘Die Laughing’—were perhaps rightfully concerned that their blend of pop-infused punk and noise-rock may not win favour with a traditional metal crowd. But the trio’s resolve and tenacity ensured that their set became a highlight of the event.
‘I’d never been to Donington, and I grew up vicariously, living my Monster Of Rock dream through Kerrang! ,’ remembers Michael. ‘With festivals, you’re at the mercy of so many things. These were the days of bottles of piss and mudslinging. We just went on with the right attitude and did our thing. The crowd went nuts, and I was gobsmacked at the reaction. They were really on board.’
I wasn’t there, unfortunately. On the morning of the festival, I was 165 miles away on a housing estate in Jarrow, in the north-east of England, preparing to trudge my way through another Saturday shift at a popular fast-food restaurant on Newcastle’s Grainger Street. It paid for weekend beers and the occasional record, at least. I had been a fan of Therapy? for about eighteen months, after seeing a fellow student brandishing a Day-Glo green twelve-inch single with a razor blade on the cover, a garish punk homage to Judas Priest’s 1980 album British Steel . It was the Shortsharpshock EP, which I bought that same day and subsequently played to death.
On the 533 bus to Newcastle, I remember reading Kerrang! and playing Troublegum on my portable CD player, which just fit inside my denim jacket’s hidden pocket. The album’s length perfectly matched the time it took to get to work. It felt like the album was written just for me. The last line, ‘ I’m in hell and I’m alone ’, would ring in my ears as I pulled my boots on and fixed my name badge—nine months in, no stars—to my polo shirt. I’d play the album immediately as soon as my shift ended. The opening song, ‘Knives’, would satisfyingly drown out the voice of my bullish shift manager as I made my way home.
MTV broadcasted highlights of the festival later that summer. At a friend’s house party, I nursed a bottle of warm French lager as I watched some Therapy?’s set on satellite TV. By the time they began ‘Hellbelly’—the sixth song of their set—my friend Craig, a hip-hop fan, had switched off his parents’ television without a moment’s warning. I clearly remember a shot of Andy prowling the lip of the stage before the screen suddenly turned black.
Later that year, I moved to London to study for a thoroughly useful degree in Film and Communication Studies at Middlesex University. My first Therapy? show proper—I caught most of their set at Reading that August—was at the Shepherds Bush Empire on November 27. I managed to watch ‘Hellbelly’ in its entirety this time, before I eventually exited the venue drenched in sweat, steam rising from my hoodie into the cold night.
It was the first of many, many Therapy? headline sets I’d witness over the next twenty-five years. The following year, late on June 11 1995, I jumped on the Piccadilly Line with a friend to be the among the first to pick up a copy of the band’s next album, Infernal Love , and get my whole CD collection signed. I posed for a photo with Michael, on whom I’d clearly modelled my appearance around that time: round glasses, close-cropped hair, and a nose ring.
In 1999, I began working in the Kerrang! office, and I would often interview the band on the phone for news stories—one such story involved playing the song ‘God Kicks’ down the receiver and asking readers to guess who the drunk, mumbling singer was. I would later sit face-to-face with Andy and Michael for longer, in-depth interviews. Over the course of my career, I’ve seen many bands come and go, but Therapy? have been a reassuring constant in my gig diary and listening habits, as well as the architects of some debilitating hangovers.
As the twenty-fifth anniversary of Troublegum loomed on the horizon, I approached the band for their thoughts on pitching a book on that stratospheric era. They readily agreed, but a little later they suggested I write a book about their whole career, to mark their thirtieth anniversary.
The book you hold in your hands is the result of over seventy hours of interviews and unrestricted access to their archives. It’s the story of one of rock’s boldest and most idiosyncratic acts, tracing their beginnings from the politically volatile streets of Northern Ireland in the late 80s, to achieving mainstream success, overcoming line-up changes, changing record labels, and navigating countless obstacles throughout their three-decade-long career.
The secret of their longevity can be traced back to that conversation in the Castle Donington press enclosure in the summer of 1994. Therapy? have never pandered to commercial trends: they have stuck to their guns, even during their lowest moments. They’re lifers, and their passion for their music is reflected in their most dedicated of fans.
So, it’s best we get started then. It’s a long journey …
On a summer’s afternoon in 1989, Andy Cairns returned to his parents’ home in Ballyclare, Northern Ireland, after a shift as a quality-control inspector at the local Michelin tyre factory. He was joined by Michael McKeegan and Fyfe Ewing, two students from neighbouring Larne, a fifteen-minute drive away. Their band, Therapy?, was in its infancy, its line-up having solidified only a few months previously. Later that day, they would play their first ever gig at Conor Hall in Belfast Art College, set up by the Warzone Collective, an anarcho-punk community in the capital. Decadence Within, a political-crossover thrash band from Herefordshire, were set to headline a bill that also featured local punks Pink Turds In Space and Strontium Dog.
Andy grabbed his VHS copy of Hüsker Dü’s Makes No Sense … and the three gathered in the lounge to watch the Minnesota trio’s supercharged 1985 performance at London’s Camden Palace. ‘I remember being really, really nervous that day,’ says Andy. ‘But after watching the Hüsker Dü video we were really, really up for it. I vividly remember Fyfe noticing that Grant Hart played drums in his bare feet.’
They loaded Andy’s orange Mini Metro with all their equipment and drove twenty minutes south to York Street. The band had done nothing but rehearse since May, so their plan of action was simple: play the eleven songs they had, and end with a glorious hail of feedback.
Andy, born September 22 1965, in Antrim, moved to Ballyclare as a small child. It was David Bowie’s performance of ‘Starman’ on Top Of The Pops on July 6 1972 that changed his life. ‘He looked like an alien,’ Andy remembers. ‘If it was someone with a beard and an acoustic guitar, I wouldn’t have looked twice. But they were wearing makeup and outrageous trousers. I was transfixed.’
The BBC’s flagship entertainment show shaped his musical education. Sparks’ ‘This Town Ain’t Big Enough For The Both Of Us’, released in 1974, was another song that lodged itself firmly in his young brain. That year, he made his first record purchase: the Sweet’s ‘Blockbuster’.
‘I really wanted that record, and I remember my dad taking me into Belfast and saying he was going to give me the money to go up and buy the record myself,’ he recalls. ‘It was a big deal for me, because I was quite a shy kid, but I went home clutching this copy of “Blockbuster”, which I played to death.’
When Andy was eight years old, Ballyclare Primary received a cache of musical instruments from a neighbouring school. ‘Our headmaster, Mr Brown, showed us this room of dusty, beaten-