So, the double album. Opposites. A bold move by most people’s
standards, but the progression of Biffy Clyro in the last few years makes this
step, on the whole, seem totally natural.
On the first one or two listens of this album, Biffy seem to
me like that old friend that you begrudgingly wonder if we met now, would we still get on? Which is a worrying sign. Luckily,
this is short-lived. After a few more listens the answer to that is a
resounding yes, yes we would.
The only slight gripe I’ll get out the way before anything
is the production of the album, which can be a good or a bad thing. For the more
casual listener, the production makes some of the tracks sound like catchy
radio pop songs (which is not necessarily a bad thing). But, if you remember what
is was like before Warner, when a change in guitar every few songs was as far
as it went, it can get on the nerves a little bit to start with. To me, at some
points (Biblical, the very beginning
of Different People), the clean
over-production and over-use of ‘baby’ and ‘tonight’ make things at times
teeter towards cheesy, something you wouldn’t dream of accusing this band of
five years ago. However, the weighty guitars and prediction of how it will all
sound live quickly wipes away those doubts once you get your teeth sunk into
it. And you know, with the enormous amount of success combined with the aging
and maturity of them, you can’t expect it to be all thrashed out in a day or
two like Vertigo of Bliss was back in
’03.
As it progresses, you begin to understand the reason for all
these extra things (two more members (Mike and Gambler previously of Oceansize), bag-pipes, kazoos,
tap-dancers you name it), and why actually they just add to everything. Firstly,
beginning with disc 1 The Sand at the
Core of our Bones, once the cheesy 1-minute opening is out of the way, they
don’t step off the pedal for pretty much the duration. After single Black Chandelier, which we all know
about, come two what-could-be title tracks; Sounds
Like Balloons resonates the two albums names powerfully in what seems to
jump out as a set closer (well, main set, my loyalties still lie with Now the Action is on Fire), followed by
the gentle Opposite, which sums up
the mood of the first disc (Baby I’m
leaving here/you need to be with somebody else). And yes, more ‘baby’s. The Joke’s On Us, previewed first a year
and a half ago now at Milton Keynes, is
everything I hoped it would be: velocious, powerful and energetic.
Biblical, an
obvious single but not necessarily for the right reasons, is that track that
summarises my experience of Opposites so
far. Slightly bemused at first, a bit annoyed, then delighted. Somehow, don’t
ask me why, in the time from first listening and now this has become one of my
favourites of the album. Yes it is a bit poppy, and yes it’s not ‘Biffy-like’,
but you know what, they decide themselves what’s ‘Biffy-like’, and moving the
goalposts is what made them such a loved band in the first place.
The rest of Sand at
the Core… nestles in nicely with the rest of the album, though a couple
don’t seem to be absolute belters just yet. A
Girl and his Cat and The Thaw amble
along, with pleasing enough choruses that deserve repeat listens. Little Hospitals, perhaps the highlight
of this side, thrashes along in a fashion not unlike earlier b-side Once An Empire, and builds up to
devilish roar of When you leave I doubt I’ll remember you! Ever the
optimists.
Disc 2 The Land at the
End of our Toes doesn’t completely contradict musically the theme of the
previous disc as you might expect, but rather follows the same formula to great
effect. It is this disc, however, where the new experimentation of the album
truly comes into its own. But it doesn’t seem fair to call it experimentation,
because it just fits so well, I couldn’t imagine it being done any other way
now.
A slightly more optimistic Stingin’ Belle, Modern Magic
Formula and Victory Over the Sun, which
we’ve heard either live or single versions of, are realised brilliantly. I
loved Modern Magic Formula since
first hearing it at Swindon last year, and the
finished product is probably my favourite of either disc. Wedged in between
them is Spanish Radio, a really bold
Zelda’s gerudo valley meets Scottish Folk meets Rodrigo y Gabriela type vibe
(strange, but that’s how I hear it).
Pocket, which
surfaced as a terrible recording of I’m
Probably in your Pocket about five years ago now, is everything we waited
for. A heartfelt and catchy tune, this is even more rewarding seeing as it was
assumed (or I certainly assumed), we would never here it in a completed state.
Well thank God we have, because it works.
As we come to the end, Trumpet
or Tap, Woo Woo and Accident Without
Emergency are all fun (and lyrically more optimistic) representations of
what this band have become. Anyone who was expecting Only Revolutions part 2 has been blissfully mistaken, as the
musical expertise and experimentation on this album have far exceeded
expectation. Stabbing guitar riffs along side trumpets, tap dancers and synths
bring out Simon Neil’s voice perfectly, who would’ve thought it? After these,
the whole thing ends with a fitting Picture
a Knife Fight, which again drowns you in its chorus, and the final
instrumental. Time to start it all again.
So in summary, they’ve created an accessible double album.
And whilst it’s not the drastic contrasting concept album that the title might
suggest, it’s just a bloody great collection of tracks. Remember, if you find
yourself wondering why on earth you’re singing along to a clean radio edit of
something on radio 1 in the daytime. Don’t worry, it’s Biffy, you’re allowed.
After so much hype and expectation from old and new fans
alike, this I’m certain is Biffys bold statement in becoming a justifiable
festival headline act. And looking at the back-catalogue from the last twelve
years, beginning back in 2002 with Blackened
Sky (which, by the way, is still a phenomenal album), don’t they deserve
it.
-
JS
Dylan’s
decision to ‘go electric’ was met by many with disappointment and upset at the
time, a conviction forever immortalised by the boos and heckles of Manchester’s
Free Trade Hall audience. “Judas” shouts an audience member - he’s sold out to electric pop music,
he’s betrayed the folk-acoustic symbol he had became known to represent so
magnificently the previous year! “I don’t believe you… you’re a liar!” Dylan
retorts before blasting Manchester away with a thunderous rendition of Like
A Rolling Stone. “I had a perspective on the booing… you
gotta realise you can kill someone with kindness too” he said years later. I
have digressed, but for a reason – mainly because although Blonde On Blonde is
my favorite album, absolutely nothing on earth can take away from the glorious
build up of albums which came before (Another Side Of Bob Dylan, Bring It All
Back Home and Highway 61 Revisited,)
many songs from which made up the rest of that spectacular 1966 set-list – Ballad
Of A Thin Man, It Ain’t Me Babe, and Mr Tambourine Man to
name a few. But in contrast to the raw electric boom of songs like Maggie’s
Farm, the other half of the set list, with it’s acoustic
vibe, reminiscent of Dylan’s earlier days of folk, in particular (granted it
was from his latest album) the live version of Visions of Johanna
used by Martin Scorsese in No Direction Home – which rings
most true, relevant and deepest for me personally - it was watching this
performance that started my love affair with Blonde On Blonde. 
