Biffy Clyro were brilliant. There is no denying that. There are plenty of reasons why they are one of the worlds biggest bands, and they were all on display and then some at Alexandra Head in Cardiff last night.
However, I would be remiss if I did not mention what a complete and utter pain it was getting to said performance. Part of the Bay Series, Biffy’s Cardiff show was pitched not as a gig in an old car park in the arse end of nowhere but as a ‘mini festival’.
You certainly got the whole festival experience. This included a twenty-minute walk to the site, facilitated by the fact that all the roads and the public footpaths leading to the makeshift venue had been closed, which forced everyone to park in Cardiff’s notoriously overpriced car parks.
Thankfully, the evening’s entertainment was worth the trek and then some.
First up were West London punks Chubby and the Gang. Stepping onto the stage with all the gusto and swagger of a band straight out of a dinghy pub basement somewhere in Soho circa 1977, it is safe to say they have the bratty attitude of the era down pat.
Frontman Charlie Manning-Walker aka, (the not so) Chubby Charles shouts and spits through each number with gusto, while his band chug along behind him, with a ‘we don’t give a fuck’ attitude that is hard to resist.
Proudly English, a somewhat precarious position to take in Wales, But as Chubby said after a rant about ‘fucking hating the police’, the band were ‘not here to make any friends’.
It is unfortunate because I think they managed to get most of the crowd onside by the end of their politically charged set.
Chubby and the Gang will be back in Cardiff at the Clwb Ifor Bach on 12th December.
Next up were Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes.
Carter is less a frontman, and more a force of nature, a whirlwind of boundless energy, a natural showman, and charming as fuck.
There are few entertainers I have ever seen own the stage so completely and be so aware of it.
Tattooed to the nines, bouncing onto the stage in a colourful shirt that can best be described as biblical, Carter is the kind of guy society tells us you would not want to meet down a dark alley.
Truth is, he is a gentleman.
His first order of the day, something I would love to see more acts attempt, was to designate a women’s only section to let the girls mosh, circle pit and crowd surf in peace.
Beset with technical issues, Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes battled on regardless, delivering an incredible performance despite only managing to get through eight tracks without any problems.
As Carter cried, ‘For two fucking years I’ve been sat at home. Fucking give it to me!’
He then dived off the stage, and almost went arse over tit as he crowd surfed his way back during Sticky.
Carter then dedicated the next track Lullaby, to his daughter Mercy Rose.
“She’s Six, and the love of my life”, he said. “I wrote this track when she wouldn’t go to fucking sleep. So this is also for parents who have a new baby, I feel your pain.”
It was at this point that Dino’s guitar started to fuck up, and the amps began to crackle with feedback, an issue that would plague the rest of an otherwise phenomenal set.
Something Carter opined at one point: “We are being plagued by technical difficulties, but they are not affecting our performance because we are fucking badass.”
“Sometimes things go right, and sometimes they go catastrophically wrong.
“But I’m still having a great time.” He added.
Still, we were treated to an impromptu cover of House of the Rising Sun, and Carter even brought his mum on stage at one point.
Finally, after cutting out throughout most of the set Dino’s guitar sprung back into life just in time for an incredible cover of Ace of Spades.
Bowing out, Carter offered some sage advice, “A lot of people are going to get in your face, a lot of people are cunts, which is why you should carry a fucking crowbar!”
Ending on a high with one last big sing-along, The rattlesnakes departed, but not before Dino smashed his guitar to bits. I don’t think it was part of the act.
Finally, just after nine, to chants of ‘Mon the Biff!’, frontman Simon Neil, cutting a striking figure in a painters smock, took to the stage as Biffy Clyro kicked off a with North of No South from their latest album No Celebration of Endings.
It has been three years since the Scottish rockers came to Wales, and it was clear that they were not fucking around as Neil ditched the Arthur Dent look as the band launched into fan-favourite, The Golden Rule.
“How are you fuckin’ doing Cardiff”, Neil quipped before launching into the upbeat sounds of Tiny Indoor Fireworks.
It is clear where the Kilmarnock trio shine is their ability to shift from full-on explosive set pieces, with Neil barely being able to contain the noise coming from his guitar, to out and out balladry, seemingly on a dime.
Nowhere was this more evident than during Biblical, with its intimate opening, which had everyone singing along.
The hits continued to come thick and fast with the jaunty, Whose got a Match?, and the epic Mountains.
It could be argued that Biffy’s explosion in popularity from math-rock pioneers with a cult following, packing clubs up and down the land, to selling out stadium shows was the result in a change of sound, but while listening to brand new track Unknown Male 01, it is clear the same mix of soulful, intelligent lyricism and sheer technical ability, which resonated with old school fans on Infinity Land and Blackend Sky is still present to this day. It is just a shame that the likes of Justboy and Only One Word Comes to Mind have been dropped from the setlist.
Other highlights included Living is a Problem( Because Everyone Dies) and the X-Factor baiting Space, which had everyone singing along, and felt surprisingly touching considering the year we have all just had.
The biggest stand out of the evening was Bubbles, which saw the thousand plus present; lose their collective shit, and Neil remark afterwards: “Ain’t no singing like a Welsh crowd singing.”
The main set ended with one final crowd-pleaser, Biffy’s most recognisable hit, Many of Horror.
After the break, Biffy let their hair down with Different People, and then launched straight into an incredible version of Cop Syrup that saw the whole band, techs included, let loose.
Finally, Neil picked up his acoustic and ended the evening with the Sombre, heartfelt but ultimately hopeful Machines.
The mournful ballad’s refrain, ‘take the pieces and build them skywards’ seems like sage wisdom considering the current state of the world and a fitting end to the first big gig of what looks set to be a phenomenal year for live music.