Biffy Clyro

The sky is pouring and washing multicoloured oil residue into the gutters outside the Garage tonight. However, it’s just gone 8pm, people are blowing in off the streets and beneath their wet coats’n’jackets they’re wearing iDLE/WiLD, Seafood and Biffy Clyro tee’s. This can mean only one thing...

The first on’s, on, and they are Serafin fronted by ex-Stony Sleep singer Ben I-don’t-know-his-surname (geeky note: they were one of few uk 90’s bands who captivated a cult audience and never displeased any of their loyal following with blistered harmonies and shattered rock that was put back together again in a really exciting art-rock fashion). Stony Sleep are not a reference point cus obviously things progress, well, in this case anyway. Serafin wash away the world outside for 30minutes with sparkly fresh pop, the kind of intelligent-pop that Miss Ellis-Bexter can only dream of her songwriters writing for her. They’ve got hooks galore, maybe not as many instantly loveable bits or art bits yet, but with Muse’s management looking after them and mainstream people starting to wake-up to rock again, it can only be a short while before there is room for another band this ace.

Tenner were a late addition to the bill. 2 minutes into the gig I wish they weren’t here. They sound like they’ve been locked up in their practice room since the mid-nineties with blobs of blur and moments of cardigan wearing madchester punk stuff which is about as directionless as living in the past. I’ll admit the long indulgent ends of some of their songs were quite good and not just cus the songs ended. There was the odd gem that maybe seemed as if I was being a cynical bar-steward but they were few and far between. 20 minutes or so later - it might have been longer - a few hands slap together and they thankfully leave the stage.

Tonight’s crowd belongs to only one band. A band with a weird name. A band from Scotland. On a tour endorsed by Drownedinsound. First things first, I love Biffy Clyro! They’re one of the most exciting bands around at the moment and their emo-tional rock rivals all their American peers who seem to be getting all the hype.

Once again (well this is about the 6th time I’ve seen them in as many weeks), their set opens with the gentle sound of ’hope for an angel’ which crawls like a baby up steps until it’s an ugly beast pained by a form of man-made devolution. Although, Biffy Clyro don’t sound very childlike. They do sound as if they were bruised on the insides as they flew out of the womb at the front row of Glastonbury ’81 but that’s another story altogether, probably.

And so it goes... vocals swap from drums to front right, front left and back around again. The whole sound has a touch of grunge and post-rock to it with guitars flying as picture perfectly as the drips of sweat from the screaming drummers chin. However, Biffy can write amazing pop (or emo, haha) songs, like current single ’57’ that gets everyone doo-doo-dee-doo-ing along as a ‘pit flows in front of 3 grinning Scots. The bouncing heads all contain smiles and j17-patented girlie swoons. Hair of the Cooper Temple Clause variety is spotted springing out from the bouncing-jelly-bean area every so often. Of course they leave the crowd begging for more and treat the crowd to something that sounds like a Tool kicking off on Mogwai for being so damn boring as an encore.

Stadium dwelling Foo Fighters fans wake up! Hype infatuated fans wake up! Work out what you love and define yourselves you idiots! This is a warning, if people aren’t careful a lot of someone’s are gonna be sorry – much like leaving it to America to sort anything out! In fact, no, people’ll be really, really fecked orf that they missed this band before three Biffy faces feature between the big bright lights of big big gigs because I know they will, trust me - I’ll be waiting outside to feel the sky to fall on me.