Review Summary: Carlsberg don't make scottish post-hardcore groups, but if they did...
We all have them.
Those songs (or indeed entire albums) that, when even slightly inebriated, we have to sing/scream/rap along to joyously; vicariously becoming extremely talented in whatever vocation we've undertaken (at least, I do, in my own mind.) "Blackened Sky", by Scottish trio Biffy Clyro, is mine. Schizophrenic time-changes and caustic lyrics that alternate between giving nothing away, and spelling it all out clearly in heart-broken, sombre tones add up to form quite the package. Equal parts melodic and dissonant, airy and dense, familiar and bizzare, this is truly a life-affirming (even though I'm generally against such a label) album, and hopefully this review will help point out why I feel that way.
Our sojourn begins with the monotone opening picking of "Joy.Discovery.Invention". Eschewing Biffy's favoured Drop D tuning for a Standard Tuning plod, this marks out this track as somewhat of a rarity in Biffy's early discography. This is a song which, at the outset, gives no hint as to whether it will be heavy and groove-laden, or light and melodic. As it turns out, it is both. After that little intro riff, and Simon (Vocalist/Guitarist) announces some ominous observations in a dour Scottish warble, "Look in slow-motion, asleep at the door. Next to destruction, reach for the source." We're then treated to some gang vocals courtesy of Ben (Drummer) and James (Bassist) accompanying Simon in pleading, "Get up, get up, get over", before leaving Simon alone for him to bark out, "Take me to your blackened sky". The breakdown makes itself known, the song being transformed into a heavy behemoth, all thunderous drumbeats and chittering staccato strumming. The distortion showcased here comes across as the most natural thing in the world. It slowly regresses back to how it all began, leaving Simon to invoke once more, in a high falsetto, "take me to your blackened sky", with an added note of finality.
"27", is up next. This is a track whose opening drumbeat/guitar combo doesn't so much bare it's fangs, as it does lick it's genitals in an act of self-preservation. And it is wonderful. The lyrics here are presumably about a break-up, and longing for the time when the relationship was working and seemingly perfect. "I stroke your silken skin, kiss you goodbye. Your eyes just pierce me through. I am bleeding with blood I would give to you, to be the way we were." Some very lovely slide guitar lines here, complimenting the drum-centred song beautifully. Halfway through the second declaration of "I still feel the pain in my heart", The song (and that line) is turned into a towering leviathan of a statement, eclipsing the prior fragile-as-glass feel of the song - to such an extent that the line, "It's all right, now", comes off as an empty promise, an attempt at self-delusion. This song is the first of a trilogy of songs on the album (comprised of "Justboy” and “57” about Simon and a serious relationship he was involved in. Speaking of which...
Up next is "Justboy". Now, some songs are one-hit K.O's, they catch you on the chin like Nigel Benn and leave you prone on the canvas, wondering what happened and why you've pissed yourself. "Justboy", is a little bit different. This is a song that is in no way less powerful, but prefers to take it's time. It lasts up until the last round, and then surprises you. That intro, crunchy and distorted, but with a lot of breathing space in-between that the incessant pounding of the drums and the deep throng of the bass, really grabbed me when I first heard it. It then leaves the drums and bass behind for a wonderfully simple picked-riff courtesy of Simon, continuing the thematic ground set by "27". The group again presents the chorus vocally as a trio, intoning as a single unit, "I don't believe in anything, that's the message in your eyes." It's a spectacular duality of melancholic lyrical content and rather upbeat delivery. The real treat, that winning uppercut that catches you in the last round, connects to your face and makes you realize - well, ***, he could've done that all along - he relished the chance to play around before finally ending it gloriously! - That takes the form of the one-line-each-trade-off between Simon, Ben and James, ending the song in a glorious and hopeful fashion, "I am hoping", (Ben) "Through the dark clouds", (James) "Light shall break and", (Simon) "Bring a bright sky", (the 3 of them altogether). It really has to be heard to be believed. An utter joy to listen to: every aspect coming together to form a song that (like much of their discography) only Biffy could've done.
"Kill The Old, Torture Their Young", despite what the title may suggest (and the opening whisper of "This.Will.Kill.") is a fairly docile track when the initial burst of distortion dies and let's the drums slow down to a somewhat groovier tempo, allowing some of Simon's frankly underrated nuanced style of guitar playing to shine, all stop/start picking and melody-defying. The breathing space of the band in perfect sync sans vocals really show what a tight-knit group they are musically. The third redux of the distortion-pummeling really hits home, and despite a coherent melody, (topped with the shouts of, "Something's wrong with us...I'll get back, I'll get back") stands out as absurdly catchy. Not the best song on the album, but on an album full of favourites, that really isn't a bad thing. The bass gets a lot of nice fills here too, bouncing off the guitar to provide some really fragile rhthymic framework.
Serving to both compliment and contrast the previous track is, "The Go-Slow". Starting with some misleading clean guitar and immediately giving way to some chunky Drop D riffing (as mentioned above, a staple of early Biffy) gives a very Coheed and Cambria "Second-Stage" era feel. The vocals are husky and emotional which, when coupled with the actual subject matter - abortion - adds extra weight to an already immense and densely-packed beast of a song. "Catch me, I'm falling down", comes across as more of a challenge and less of a plea, an interesting dynamic, in my mind. The controlled bursts of heavy-riffing is the opposite of "Kill The Old..."'s chaotic blocks of distorted mania. Shows how unafraid Biffy was, even on the debut, to go against what was popular in British music at the time.
"Christopher's River", dissolves into our ears, seemingly materializing from nowhere. The riff is full of dead notes and open-picked harmonics, a steady, loud, beat following rather than commandeering the track. The bass adopts the phaser, watery-maze effect deployed by the guitar to create a dreamy, eyes-half-shut soundscape. Lyrically, the song details a friendship lost (Without specifying how) and regret at its premature culmination. Some very beautiful imagery here: "You and me, always you held my head above the waves.
Paddling around pretending that it was not too cold,
it was but not when you were there.
Our shadows softly on the grass,
day would break we'd have our last.
Our shirt-tails in the wind
seems like yesterday my friend". The track ends with the mass chant - complete with upbeat distortion - of, "I'm not through", adding a hopeful tinge to the finale.
"Convex, Concave", is a firm fan favourite, and with good reason. The stop/start opening rhythm and weighty-drum centric verses grab hold quickly, before breezing into some clean strumming and the incredibly catchy line, "It's the same as I am". The distorted parts here sound familiar, as by now, this should be expected from Biffy, although in no way does that mean they sound repetitive. The bass adds to the guitars parts with extra fills rather than strictly following. The meaning in this song is cryptic, but from lines like "I'm sorry now, I have to hurt, I have to kill you", makes me assume that it's about spousal abuse or even just emotional abuse (a common trope to fall back on for us Scotsmen - everyone is out to get us.) And boy, does it sound fantastic. I've always thought it would have been better to place this song before "Christopher's River", to gradually bring you down from the heaviness rather than bringing you down then thrusting you straight back, but hey, that's just Biffy, and it DOES work.
"57", marks the end of the Simon-and-girl-from-his-past trilogy, and what an end it is. It's the most upbeat out of the three; the intro is crunchy and distorted, recalling "Justboy", with plenty of stuttery Drop D riffing attempting to catch up with the drums, balancing each other out to a beauteous end result. Starting off with the disarming and thus doubly-endearing line, "The sun shone in. The glint in your eyes. Your beautiful face, your beautiful face", all sung in a falsetto accented by Scottish angst. The real treat comes from Ben being allowed to tackle the chorus himself, his delightfully-American-tinged vocals adding extra brevity to the longing refrain of, "And I'm trying not to feel like this music's for you," Climaxing on the joyous finish of, "It's all right". And this time, it sounds genuine - a weight lifted.
"Hero Management", begins with pounding drums, coupled with a dissonant little guitar riff that never really goes anywhere. Quite a Radiohead, “Hail To The Thief”-ish vibe in the vocals and lyrics, “I’ve got no strength, but the sense in me to see I’m not a hero. But we still fall down.” Around the halfway mark, a strummed riff not unlike Indie luminaries the Libertines takes centre stage, before regressing to arpeggio-picking and a lovely distorted passage, really upbeat and wistful sounding. The song ends with some stop/start trade-off between the guitar and drums, before being twinned with some rather maniacal screams, only to end abruptly.
Sauntering into earshot, “Solution Devices”, at first appears unsure of itself, a high-pitched tremolo-picked riff being played only to end prematurely, start up again for longer, and then finish. After one more attempt, the song begins in earnest. The lyrics here seem to suggest a willingness to break away from oppression and no longer be walked on (“Want it, feel it. It’s what you say. Our turn, our turn, *** you and all your games”) providing a strangely anthemic chant. “Tonight, when we ride, it is such a relief to get outside”, Simon decrees, sounding for all the world as if he truly means it.
“Stress On The Sky”, is a track which again suffers from its placement on the track listing. Throaty screams, impenetrable, menacing distorted wails, hostile-sounding picked triplets, tremolo-menace from every direction. All topped off with an eerie chant. And after you’re left reeling, wondering what could happen next to add to the chaos, it ends. Just ends.
The final cut of the album, “Scary Mary,” is as polarizing as it is beautiful. Hazy, light and lazily-strummed chord changes provide the perfect backdrop for Simon’s melodic tale and falsetto, “What must I have become to deserve all the *** that you gave me
The rocks look like a body in the river, now I just wish that I could sleep
To keep me from thinking but the thoughts keep me up
It's been two months since you taught me not to trust
But you kept your promise
You make patterns in my face, you painted pictures with my tears”. A short, effect-drenched solo makes a short but delightfully unexpected appearance. Simon, voice somewhat more gravel-affected, implores us, “Wash off your hands, it's time to let go, release them
Give time to your heart, give time to your soul, release them all,” and then, it just ends. Much like “Stress On The Sky”, it simply finishes. However, unlike the prior track, there is no explosion, no eerie or unsettling chanting, no wailing-tremolo and no razor-sharp distorted mass. Just a sweet, bitterly-sung song about loss and regret. And it’s perfect.
I plan to review the remainder of Biffy’s discography (of which I consider the first 3 albums to be among my favourite ever), in which I believe that this was the weakest of those three: not as experimental, (and catchy) as lyrically-sophisticated (and cryptic) and not as cohesive as a collective body of work.
That’s right;
It gets even better.
