Biffy Clyro - InfinityLand

Tue 19th Apr, 2005 in Music Reviews

Biffy Clyro. Even the most ardent fan couldn’t argue that it’s a stupid name. It conjures up images of a hay-chewin’, one-toothed hillbilly sitting on a porch in Texas asking you to pass him your 750mL Wild Turkey. For the record, Biffy Clyro is a Scottish indie-rock outfit, and their website says that their moniker was chosen so it didn’t “throw up any preconceptions of what the band would look like or sound like.” But I still think it sucks, and am close minded enough to hold it against them. So they’re behind the 8-ball before I’ve even put their third album Infinity Land in my stereo.

Which matters little, because it’s a very good album, full of crunchy riffs, shouting and all-round aggression. Not in an “I’m pissed off because my McDonalds was late” way, but in a raw and passionate display of rage which reminds me of (now sadly defunct) Welsh outfit mclusky.

Kicking off with over a minute of distorted electronica over a haphazard drum beat, I need to check that I haven’t accidentally switched on Triple J’s Mix-Up. But just as I’m beginning to get confused, a loud riff hits – the focal point of UK single Glitter and Trauma. But don’t make any mistakes, Biffy Clyro are not a rock band for metal fans, they’re a headfuckingly loud band for indie kids.

Despite the down-tuned guitars, the constant screaming from vocalist Simon Neil (blessed with one of the finest screams in modern rock) and the ultra slick production, Biffy Clyro owe more to Fugazi and the heavier side of the Pixies than any System Of A Down-esque band you care to mention. Strung To Your Ribcage is a perfect, radio-friendly sample of what Biffy Clyro can achieve – two and a half minutes of tempo changes (from breakneck speed to a slower passage with a surprising amount of “woo-hoo”s), note perfect screams and a singable chorus. Some may say that Green Day’s latest album is ‘epic punk rock’ – they obviously haven’t heard Biffy Clyro.

Stark emotion exudes from every track – unbridled ‘suffering for my art’ emotion, which is so intense it becomes uncomfortable to listen to at times. It is no surprise that the band’s signed to Beggars Banquet – home of not only mclusky and the Pixies, but also Cocteau Twins, Amps, This Mortal Coil and Dead Can Dance.
The constant refrain of “it’s our one change to help each other” in Got Wrong is still strikingly intense after multiple listens. “Why bother talking / if nobody’s listening?” Neil asks on the fantastically titled Wave Upon Wave Upon Wave, almost six minutes of handclaps and metallic-sounding guitars in a juxtaposition of at least three different styles, all mashed together to create a cacophony of guitar. There’s No Such Thing As A Jaggy Snake combines compelling riffs with totally indecipherable screaming while The Kids From Kibble And The Fish Of Light is one of the album’s strongest tracks and one which wouldn’t sound out of place on a Hot Water Music record.

There are some surprises on the album, too – if you’ve reached track 13 and need a respite from the head-kicking layered guitars, The Weapons Are Concealed is smothered in brass for the first two minutes, before the familiar guitars kick in, proving that Biffy Clyro are not afraid to mess with their own formula. Seemingly even more out of place on the album is a piano ballad The Atrocity, somewhat surprisingly demonstrating the warmth which can be exuded from Neil’s voice at times. “memories of a perfect time / we dream of nothing, or so we say” he sings over a stop-start piano line.

There are clues to Biffy Clyro’s inventiveness beyond the album’s 14 tracks. Firstly, there’s the album’s CD slick. Made from a sort of corrugated paper, it features handwritten lyrics and typed credits/notes – nearly all illegible due to the small text size and the paper they’re printed on. Sure, they lost points for practicality, but gain them back (and then some) for artistic value.

Secondly, there’s an mp3 floating around online of the band covering Franz Ferdinand’s Take Me Out for BBC’s Radio 1. At the opposite end of the spectrum to the Scissor Sisters’ lounge version of the same track, Biffy Clyro’s version is simultaneously heavy, intense and ridiculously entertaining – albeit while paying little attention to Alex Kapranos’ original melody.

“So where do I listen to Biffy Clyro?” you are surely asking. “Is it the sort of record I’ll put on at a party when I want to jump around in circles?” And no, it’s not – and this is where Biffy Clyro confuse me. Too aggressive for a typical hangover-relieving morning, yet far too intelligent and complex to possibly be tarnished with the ‘party metal’ brush Andrew WK is stuck with, where Biffy Clyro belongs is on a mixed CD alongside the Pixies, mclusky, Fugazi, My Disco! and yourcodenameis:milo. Had I know that Biffy Clyro played such awesomely intense rock earlier, maybe I would have re-considered their derogatory comments towards their band name earlier. It’s not that bad, is it?