Live Review: Biffy Clyro, Calling All Cars

Managing to showcase their newfound polish and former grit in a short opening set, Calling All Cars execute with surgical precision.

Werewolves is sassy, if sonically lacking in kick; Standing In The Ocean comes off sounding better with that TV On The Radio-esque climax. When they close with Reptile though, the Melbourne trio become the best rock band in Australia. That statement isn’t true as soon as they walk off the stage, but for four minutes they are the undisputed heavyweight champs.

There’s plenty of Scottish patriotism in the room, and quite a few what-the-fuck faces from expats who can’t believe they’re seeing Biffy Clyro in such close quarters, and that translates into utter adulation when Simon Neil, the Johnston brothers and touring guitarist Mike Vennart belt us with Different People, That Golden Rule, The Captain and Sounds Like Balloons. The band sound absolutely monstrous, and after touring 2013 record Opposites for over 18 months they are performing on another level, attacking their instruments frantically while remaining completely in control.

As expected, Vennart is the only one wearing a shirt, with Biffy’s core three all getting their pasty rigs out. Neil’s tropical trousers look like they are painted on, the tattooed, animalistic frontman shaking his hips continually as sweat rains down on the ground. Who’s Got A Match? and 57 get the pit bouncing, and they treat us to a rare performance of Convex, Concave before Neil does the acoustic thing with God & Satan. A frantic burst featuring Glitter And Trauma and Living Is A Problem Because Everything Dies shows Biffy at the mathy best, before Many Of Horror drowns the room in gang vocals, the chorus sounding epic beyond words. In amongst all this there’s minimal banter, but it’s clear the gents are completely blown away at the response given to them after some poorly attended Brisbane headline shows a few years ago. They round out the main set with Black Chandelier and Bubbles, and the roar when they leave the stage is deafening.

A smiling Simon Neil returns to view on his lonesome, playing Machines with the help of hundreds singing “Take the pieces and build them skywards”, before he’s joined by his comrades once more for a bouncing Stingin’ Belle – the rhythm section of James and Ben Johnston revelling in the chorus of the tune. All that’s left for us is Mountains, Biffy Clyro’s most grand and unapologetic chest-beating anthem. They expel what last bits of energy and emotion they have, and the music travels out from the speakers like a blinding call to arms. “Nothing lasts forever”, Neil reminds us, “except you and me”. Those lyrics have never resonated more than they do tonight.