Therapy? come on to a rapturous applause, and we know this is to be a good gig. Never denying the crowd their fill of the songs that made them famous, like the pulsing Teethgrinder, somewhat poppy Going Nowhere, and the sing-a-long Die Laughing, its good to see that just because the band are sick of playing their hits does not mean that the fans are sick of hearing them. And besides Therapy? are having the time of their lives, with Michaels cheeky and slightly satanic grin and Andys piercing wide-eyed stare.
The night is saddened by the fact that a young lady jumped off a bridge behind the Cockpit just before the gig, which prompted the band to dedicate the set to her. Diane and Stories from Infernal Love just fuelled the crowd and when the track James Joyce aired near the end the place exploded. I lost count of the number of stage divers repeatedly bouncing off the stage, but the lack of a barrier seemed to please the band, and they encouraged proper stage diving.
After some Fuck Yous to oil mongers George W. Bush and Tony Blair (the guys grew up in Belfast in the 70s and have a good idea what bombings about first hand) the sweaty but chuffed Irishmen left promising to return to the Cockpit, which is always a memorable show.
FUTURE GIGS
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