In my local second-hand bookshop there’s a well-thumbed copy of Dr Arthur Janov’s The Primal Scream. Published in 1970, the book outlines Dr Janov’s “primal therapy,” in which patients deal with psychological pain through experiences that go deeper than traditional talk therapies. Although out of favor in modern psychology, “primal therapy” was big news in the 1970s, attracting some high profile devotees.

The idea of a “primal scream” brings to mind raw, naked emotion. John Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band album was heavily influenced by his experience of Janov’s work and his vocal work on the album is what most people would think of when they hear “primal scream.” Or Bobby Gillespie’s band, possibly.

Consequently, it’s strange to think of another Janov-inspired band, Tears for Fears, as hailing from the same therapeutic territory.

Tears for Fears are best known for their massively successful Songs from the Big Chair album and the hit singles “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” and “Shout.” Unlike the doom-and-gloom aesthetic of many bands from the early 80s TFF embraced glossy synthesizer-driven pop. And they crashed right through to the mainstream with their odes to psychic dysfunction.

The Janov influence is more apparent on their first album, The Hurting, although mainly in the lyrics and song titles. The music is still glossy and sophisticated; raw emotion is subjugated to pop perfection.

Of course, spit and polish can only do so much to a jagged surface—and the anguish present in the vocals of “Memories Fade,” in which Roland Orzabal sings “memories fade / But the scars still linger / Goodbye my friend / Will I ever love again?” The depth of emotion even renders the mournful saxophone work from Mel Collins affecting, in spite of the cheesiness associated with the instrument’s use in pop music.

A more upbeat song in both tempo and content is “Change.” While it is largely an exploration of change in the negative sense, the pounding drum machine and whooping chorus lends the exercise an optimism that belies the refrain of “it’s all too late.” And there’s still the exhilarating synth-break to be reckoned with.

As a concept album about pain and healing, The Hurting, ends on an appropriately unresolved note. “The Start of the Breakdown” is a perfect fusion of the pop and primal scream elements of the album. Like the majority of the disc, the vocals are anguished and focused on the confusion and pain brought on by the turbulent past outlined over the previous nine tracks. The title suggests that for all that’s gone before, there is still more to come. It will get worse before it gets better. And yet the rapid, interlocking analogue synthesizer lines create a complex melody that is tense, troubled and hopeful simultaneously. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems.

Tears for Fears’ enduring (and broad) appeal most likely derives from their ability to tackle complex subject matter and push musical boundaries, while still retaining a love of tuneful pop that allowed them access to the airwaves. Unlike more harrowing bands, you can listen to Tears for Fears regularly without abrading your ears. Unlike most pop bands, extended exposure won’t rot your teeth with sugar. This is therapy where you’ll want to make every appointment.

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