Therapy?
Troublegum

Early months of 1994. Young and nerdy, we are walking packed in oversized flannel shirts and standard Dr. Martens, completely unaware that soon Kurt Douglas would write his farewell letter and open another hole in his head. We pass in front of the usual record store: in the window there's a record with a cover featuring a naked man with his head inside a bin. I buy it, it's inevitable. I put on the record and from then on, I will play it many, many more times.

“Knives,” the first song, kicks off with extremely violent guitar riffs alternated with a raspy and whispered voice (years later I would find a similarity with SOAD's "Prison Sex": those four cunning Armenians surely know this record). "My girlfriend says/that i need help/my boyfriend says/i'd be better off dead" is just the beginning of an album that is a whirlwind of anger, pain, blasphemy, onanism, and altered mental states. The alternation of violence and melody reflects classic metal, but there's truly something new. The Seattle crowd drew inspiration from the alternative bands of the '80s with reverence; Therapy? take the flabby butt of Pixies' Franco Nero, sodomize it with Metallica's guitar, and smirk with satisfaction.

It's the music you'd want to hear while being chased by a group of fascists for having urinated on the effigy of the bonsai duce. Listen to “Screamager”, “Die Laughing”, ”Nowhere”: pump yourself up, get depressed, smash your blockheaded selves against the wall and never consider yourself immune to madness: I GOT A TRIGGER INSIDE!!!