Now long in the tooth, these once-almost-massive Northern Irish rockers have always had a pleasingly blasé attitude, continuing to plug away regardless and churn out albums on tiny indie labels like Marshall Records. For this alone they deserve credit. Throughout their career, they have often struggled to regain the heights of their classic mid-'90s output. There have been peaks and valleys, and this effort is, ultimately, one of the middling ones. Andy Cairns never was much of a singer, and on Cleave his voice is showing its age; he spends much of the time shouting. Cleave also contains some of his least successful lyrical efforts: "Everyone's living all over each other" and "It's OK not to be OK" are just two of the "gems" on offer here. And there are a few unfortunately filler-ish, forgettable tracks, such as "Expelled" and "Dumbdown," that he could have written in his sleep. But now, the good news. The band reunited with producer Chris Sheldon, who recorded their classic albums Troublegum and High Anxiety. His work here is pleasingly raw, with a gnarly noise-rock edge that at times recalls Helmet or Unsane. Neil Cooper, by this point the band's longest-serving drummer, is now arguably at least as good as the seemingly divinely gifted Fyfe Ewing, who played on Therapy?'s first three albums then disappeared into obscurity -- and has the trademark biscuit-tin snare and technoid drum patterns down pat. The febrile social climate of the late 2010s has resulted in some of Cairns' most overtly political lyrics ever, as on "Success? Success Is Survival," which also has a nice twangy surf riff. "I Stand Alone" has a hushed, thrumming guitar part that sounds like a swarm of angry bees approaching. The classic rock-esque "Crutch" has one of Cairns' most bitter lyrics ever, a portrait of a toxic relationship that recalls the suburban horror of "Unconsoled" off One Cure Fits All. While they have never managed to make another flawless album like Troublegum or Infernal Love, there's always been at least one stone-cold, timeless classic on each album. Here there are two that arguably fit that bill: the single "Callow" rails against the zombifying effects of antipsychotic medication, and has one of those amazing combinations of riff and chorus that Therapy? have always done so well; while "Save Me from the Ordinary" harks back to classics like "Turn" with its grinding dub-funk rhythm, bank of guitars, vocal effects, and stratospheric chorus that's both exhilarating and melancholy at the same time. This has always been Therapy?'s gift -- the juxtaposition of the ugly and the beautiful, the upbeat and the melancholy, the sublime and the ridiculous. Long may they play on.