Biffy are back, and just in the nick of time. Timing is a funny thing, but it feels as if the Scottish rockers have re-emerged at exactly the right moment to help us wash our hands of the general misery the world has been experiencing for months.
A Celebration of Endings is the band’s eighth studio album with celebration being the keyword.
From the get-go, this is an album that wants to have fun and after countless days of lockdown, a fun rock album from one of the biggest bands in the world is the perfect tonic for the Covid-19 blues.
Opener North Of No South pulls no punches as it sets the tone for the record with a bright, anthemic chorus that would surely have gone down a treat at festivals this summer.
Lead singer Simon Neil is hardly underrated as a frontman, but sometimes it feels like his vocal abilities are overlooked, it’s worth noting that the range of his delivery here really is spectacular.
The album progresses with typically Biffy-esque energy from the penetrating bassline of Weird Leisure to the cutting power chords of Tiny Indoor Fireworks.
The latter is a real highpoint for the album. The lead single is as infectious as anything the Kilmarnock trio have penned since Bubbles.
Neil’s rallying cry of “I fire it up then blow it out, I build it up then tear it down” condenses the album’s intentions into a single line and will leave the listener hoping for the “better days” the band are clearly craving.
Not every track is as essential, Worst Type of Best Possible struggles to justify its inclusion with a slightly apathetic chorus, particularly in comparison to Tiny Indoor Fireworks which immediately precedes it.
Further down the line experimental track, The Pink Limit feels as if it may have been better suited as a b-side than a full-blown album track.
Credit to Biffy though, they are always willing to try something new and the same experimentalism that birthed Worst Type of Best Possible and The Pink Limit also gives us the frantic End Of and the bombastic 6-minute album closer Cop Syrup.
Both lean into the bands heavier sensibilities and benefit from some fierce guitar work by Neil.
Cop Syrup in particular really is a joy and goes some way to appeasing the less memorable tracks by ending the album with a blistering flourish. This feels like Biffy in their element, and it’s hard to resist especially when they’re screaming “Fuck everybody! Woo!”.
As the album crescendos in a blissful swirl of unadulterated noise, it really hits home just how vital Biffy remains, even on album number eight.
Younger bands could do worse than take note of Biffy’s desire to experiment, innovate and most importantly rock as if they’re lives depended on it.
Simon, James and Ben are by no means done yet.
