Can we escape the traps of the past but always know some mistakes are worth repeating? (Two People in Love)
Sometimes you have to come close to losing everything to realize what you’ve got.
The Biffy Clyro story has been built by three kindred spirits who have been together since they were just 15-years-old. Over that time, Simon Neil and brothers James and Ben Johnston have taken their band from the big dreams of their scrappy, grunge-loving origins to become one of the biggest forces in alternative rock. Against all odds those ambitions were realised with three UK #1 albums; headline sets at festivals from Reading and Leeds and Download to Radio 1’s Big Weekend and TRNSMT; countless arena shows; multiple NME and Kerrang! awards plus three BRIT nominations.
But as they released ‘A Celebration of Endings’ in the midst of the pandemic, quickly followed by the companion piece ‘The Myth of the Happily Ever After’, unexpected cracks spread throughout their foundations. Suddenly, ‘The Myth…’ title felt horribly ominous.
“I think we had all neglected our lives outside of the band,” admits Simon. “I think we all, in different ways, reached the end of the road and really needed to address our personal situations in terms of mental health. I needed to do something that was just the opposite of Biffy.”
He channelled that urge into his leftfield extreme metal band Empire State Bastard, spending much of 2023 on the project’s release and its first run of shows. It would be the first time since 2015 in which tour titans Biffy had effectively spent more than a year off the road. What emerged was, he confesses, was almost “a fear of being together.”
A self-confessed overthinker who needs creativity to maintain a clear headspace, Simon’s thoughts were haunted by the situation. Who is he without his bandmates and what would he do next? “Hitting a low point always leads to me writing good music,” he grimaces, also accepting that it makes him incredibly hard to live with. But the songs flowed freely, with a soundtrack of the hook-laden aggression of Hi-Vis and The Armed, the melody of Big Thief, the metallic, sky-bound synths of Blood Incantation, and the instant pop of ABBA and Kacey Musgraves all providing subconscious influences.
The attitude of artists from other disciplines informed his thinking too: the extreme, unyielding commitment of Marina Abramović’s ‘Rhythm 0’ project; the way in which Ari Aster’s horror films focus on psychological torment over shocks or gore.
But what could solve the band’s tension? The solution was actually simple. “It was literally seeing each other in the flesh, having a hug, and then everything just evaporated. It was just that shared moment of, ‘Aren’t we fucking lucky to know each other and to be able to share our lives together?’ So we spent a lot of time together outside of the context of the band. All we needed to do was to remind ourselves that we’re the same people. While we’ve evolved, we’re still the same pals we were when we were 15.”
That sense of returning to their roots to reconnect with the “ease, joy and innocence” of their early days was further heightened with a series of gigs in which they revisited their first three albums.
It was a turn of events which led Simon to realise the importance of the small things: or rather, the small things in life that really mean everything. Or as he now puts it: “I realised that you only really cherish things once they disappear. I want to cherish every moment I have with the people I love. I don’t want to be sitting here in ten years’ time cursing myself for a split-second decision I made because of my ego.”
And quickly Simon rediscovered how much he valued his old friends and bandmates. He found their joy and their enthusiasm for his new songs infectious, and they trusted his songwriting regardless of the soul-scorching lyrics they often included. He could hear how much they had finely tuned their already accomplished abilities as musicians since he last saw them. He also appreciated what they individually bring to the band as a unit: Ben’s natural tendency to live in the moment, James bringing logistics and planning into the mix.
But their friendship means more than all of that. It’s something which is explored in their upcoming single ‘A Little Love’, a track in which brighter melodic tones and funk-leaning vibes bring an element of surprise before a classically soaring Biffy hook hits hard.
“It’s a cynically optimistic song,” begins Simon in reference to what is surely the most positive-sounding song to ever open with a lyric referencing divorce. “The song is basically about no matter what life or your relationship throws at you, if you always maintain that connection and that presence in each other’s lives, then I think you can conquer anything. Myself, Ben and James have been really lucky to share that. It’s the same in any long-term relationship: a marriage, with close friends or family. The beautiful thing about going through such a part of your life together is that you find out the most important aspects of each other and what really matters.”
Another new song, ‘Goodbye’, takes us into a darker mindset. The tone is sweeping, string-assisted balladry in the finest of Biffy traditions – emotive, not manipulative – but its elegance masks the punctured torment of feeling as if giving up is your final chance of redemption. Simon picks his words carefully. “With the speed and intensity of our modern lives, I feel everyone has probably considering shuffling off the planet. That had passed through my mind at points. And that’s why I now finally feel a bit of optimism, because I was able to pour that sentiment into a song rather than internalise it. Actually I realised I didn’t want to escape this life, I just wanted to feel present. I needed to remind myself that life is everything, it isn’t just your good times.”
That existentialism is traded for visceral exasperation in ‘Hunting Season’. In a volley of punkish melody and post-hardcore riffing, his ire targets big tech, social media companies and late stage capitalism: especially the way in which people are treated as “collateral damage” in their pursuit of profit margins. It’s also symbolic of the band’s renowned communication, as Simon had put it on the backburner until Ben picked it as a personal favourite.
These songs – and a wealth of others to be revealed – came together primarily during seven weeks of sessions at Berlin’s hallowed Hansa Studios with producer Jonathan Gilmore (Nothing But Thieves, The 1975, beabadoobee). By this point, team Biffy was back in high spirits, which were heightened by a “studio where I feel great art has been made, it emphasises that it’s really important to set your bar fucking high.” For Simon it evoked images of prime David Bowie and Iggy Pop, of Einstürzende Neubauten drilling holes in the live room, and Nick Cave and Blixa Bargeld getting lost in hedonism that made ‘Fear and Loathing’ look like a stroll to the garden centre.
Their enthusiasm in the studio was further driven by the summer festival offers that were coming in. By the time this summer fades, they will have played Radio 1’s Big Weekend, Glastonbury, Eden Sessions and TRNSMT, plus a selection of major European events such as Rock am Ring / Rock im Park, Pinkpop and Hurricane.
So what could’ve been gone is now firmly back – and stronger than ever before. “Our raison d’etre is to get up on that stage,” beams Simon, flashing a smile of both relief and contentment that the trio’s woes are behind them. “I just can’t wait to remind everyone what we’re all about. Our mantra is, let Biffy be Biffy, motherfucker!”
