In a city accustomed to a thousand gigs following a familiar script, Biffy Clyro tore up the rulebook at Birmingham's Utilita Arena. The Scottish rock trio, now a decade-spanning institution, delivered a performance that was as emotionally raw as it was spectacularly unpredictable, proving that after 19 years, they remain fiercely original.
A Setlist Defying Convention
The band, touring in support of their 2025 album Futique, opened with tracks from that record, 'A Little Love' and 'Hunting Season'. The stage setup was immediately intriguing, with the musicians partially obscured by a structure resembling a blanket fort—a visual motif that would return with powerful effect later in the night. The absence of bassist James Johnston, currently on a hiatus, was spiritually palpable, though his space was filled with reverence and the considerable skill of touring bassist Naomi MacLeod.
An Emotional Rollercoaster
True to Biffy Clyro's nature, the evening was a masterclass in emotional whiplash. The anthemic rush of 'Golden Rule' and the fiery 'Who's Got A Match'—showcasing Simon Neil's faultless vocals—gave way to the poignant stillness of 'Machines', performed acoustically within the descending blanket fort. The crowd's energy was expertly manipulated, from the discombobulating riffs of 'Wolves of Winter' to the arena-wide singalong prompted by 'Tiny Indoor Fireworks'.
Neil addressed James's absence directly, telling the Birmingham crowd, "We're missing one of our limbs," before praising MacLeod, whose amplified bass line on 'Friendshipping' felt like a celebratory statement of capability. The journey continued through the pure elation of 'Biblical' to the immediate nosedive of 'A Thousand and One', a stark reminder of the band's commitment to reflecting life's brutal contrasts.
From Download Fury to Arena Confessional
For long-time fans, the performance felt like a culmination. Having first hammered audiences into submission at festivals like Download nearly two decades ago with upstart fury, the band now operates on a different plane. This was a confessional, a shirtless-heart-on-sleeve exposition of a career built on life, pain, love, and public anguish.
The production amplified the narrative. A giant, dilating eye on screen during 'Two People In Love' stirred unease, while a stunning string section added heart-wrenching depth to 'Different People'. The arena transformed into a unified dancefloor for 'Bubbles', before the night concluded not with a drawn-out farewell, but with a powerful, seemingly spontaneous rendition of 'Many Of Horror'. Performed by the two-thirds core of Biffy Clyro and their skilled companions, it felt neither old nor tired, but spectacularly vital.
In defying the standard gig formula—no faux finish, no predictable encore ceremony—Biffy Clyro offered something more authentic: a raw, unfiltered, and brilliantly chaotic reflection of a career, and a life, lived without a blueprint.
