LIVE REVIEW: Biffy Clyro, Nothing But Thieves, Don Broco, Marmozets, Wavves, Finsbury Park, London, 03/07/2026
Photo Credit: Eva Pentel
Despite ostensibly being just one of near countless tens of thousands plus cap music events on Friday 3rd July, there’s no place we’d have rather been than Finsbury Park, witnessing Biffy Clyro’s biggest ever headline show.
Normally, bands prior to headliners are there to warm up the crowd. But with a relentless sun beating down on the both slowly-filling and slowly-melting crowd, that wasn’t much of an ask. Long before the first band had taken the stage, sweat was already dripping, pints were disappearing almost as quickly as they were poured — merely to stop them evaporating, surely? — and thousands of fans had resigned themselves to spending a day baking. Fortunately, the line-up was more than capable of matching the temperature.
First up, Wavves. The San Diego quartet – the only non-British band on the bill – arrived to chants of their own name, Nathan Williams grinning as he observed that the blistering heat was “par for the course” back home in California. Their sun-bleached surf punk-rock felt tailor-made for the occasion, with King of the Beach, Goner, Post Acid, and Demon to Lean On all breezing by in a haze of fuzzed-out guitars and slacker charm. “This song’s called ‘Fuck Donald Trump’,” Williams deadpanned before another burst of distortion, breaking into the aptly named Idiot, while Nine Is God – written for Grand Theft Auto V – reminded anyone wondering where they knew the band from with definitive proof. By the time bassist Stephen Pope had ripped off his leather vest after “rocking too hard”, and the frantic pulse of Green Eyes sent the band hurtling towards a gloriously scrappy finale, the day had officially started. Though, we technically got the Vinewood Boulevard Radio DJs live on stage before GTA VI. C’mon Rockstar. Do better. 8/10
Wandering around the site before second band Marmozets, you were struck by just how eclectic and diverse the site was. Plastered across the temporary walls were a number of tour posters loosely adhering to the weekend’s genre; Bury Tomorrow sat right next to Lenny Kravitz, Keo next to Skindred. It was fun to see just how far-reaching the ‘rock’ genre has become.
Enough of that though — onto Marmozets proper.
“We’re here to warm you up – Mon the Biff!” Becca Bottomley laughed, an almost sardonic chuckle given the weather. Their set, however, wasn’t without its frustrations. Technical issues plagued their half hour, with sound repeatedly cutting in and out throughout the band’s tenure on stage, while the band’s in-ear monitors appeared determined to sabotage proceedings for the group too. It barely mattered. Bottomley remained mesmerising throughout, effortlessly shifting between delicate melodies, piercing shrieks and full-throated screams as newcomers from CO.WAR.DICE — A Kiss From A Mother, Cut Me Off and Mes Désirs — went hand in hand with firm fan favourites, the riotous Move, Shake, Hide or the serpentine Captivate You, to showcase exactly why Marmozets have been so sorely missed. By the time Play and Major System Error arrived, the crowd were fully invested. Twin mosh pits opened on either side of the field, friends climbed onto shoulders and the band abandoned any sense of restraint, bassist Sam Macintyre and even drummer Josh Macintyre racing around the stage to whip the audience into an even greater frenzy. Then, with a deserved curtsy from Becca as the crowd roared their appreciation back, ‘twas over. A triumphant return, despite every obstacle thrown in their way. 8.5/10
Few bands embrace chaos quite like Don Broco. Rob Damiani barely stood still from the moment Cellophane exploded into life, somehow managing to stomp with his entire body as he swaggered, shouted, screamed and sneered across the stage; Matt Donnelly’s softer vocals, in comparison somehow felt bigger than ever as they soared over the field. Pretty, Gumshield, and Nightmare Tripping all landed with enormous force, the latter’s thunderous bass breakdown giving way to one of spinning Simon’s effortlessly slick, flanger-filled guitar flourishes, as the short and sweet set roared by to the delight of everyone.
“We mean to set these pits off like we mean to go on,” Damiani challenged, dividing the crowd in twin walls of death to erupt at the maestro of mayhem’s command — at least until a quickly-booed-away hydration break interrupted everyone — and woe behold anyone who failed to comply.
“After a mere twenty years we’ve finally managed to snag a show with Biffy Clyro,” Rob laughed. “They’re one of the reasons we started a band.” True or not, there’s always a sense of gratitude to the Bedford boys’ performances, even if just to their devoted fanbases for sticking around for twenty odd years and now launching them to arena status — particularly with the fuck-off ecstasy of Bruce Willis. And, with the news that they’d be headlining 2000trees after Alkaline Trio pulled out due to illness — along with new shows announced for their November tour, including Here At Outernet — there’ll be plenty of opportunities to indulge in the band’s delightful, laddish hedonism yourself. 9/10
It’s been a minute since Nothing But Thieves have been in London, but their absence sure has made the collective heart grow fonder. And, in the spirit of making up for lost time, what better way to start than Amsterdam? Hearing shocked gasps and little yelps as a band opens with their biggest song is always a fun one, although it’s ever ironic that a song with lyrics of “hey you watching me lookin’ through a screen/ I’m here in front of you” is arguably the song that gets recorded the most.
Conor Mason remains one of Britain’s finest vocalists, effortlessly drifting between haunting falsettos and muscular rock vocals without ever seeming to break a sweat, even in the sweltering heat. The addictive groove of Itch and the Muse-esque menace of Is Everybody Going Crazy? contrasted beautifully with the fragile intimacy of Particles, while If I Get High transformed the park into a giant singalong — just a shame that the afternoon sun made phone torches, if not impossible, a little pointless. Speaking of Impossible, said emotionally charged favourite landed as powerfully as ever, along with the gentle Sorry, helping to prove that the band’s quieter moments can be every bit as commanding as their biggest riffs.
There was even some new stuff, too. Fresh single Evolution was greeted like an old favourite, but that was somewhat expected; the live debut of the unreleased Stray Dogs — according to on online setlists, anyway — however, wasn’t, and proved a phenomenal surprise. Plus, story time, with Mason fondly recalled first meeting Biffy Clyro around a decade ago; his attempting to voice Simon though, in an accent that was a fairly questionable attempt at what was hopefully meant to be Scottish, was even better than the actual story.
Closing with the euphoric rush of duo Welcome to the DCC and Impossible, it was a great teaser for their own headline tour next year — although no Trip Switch felt like blasphemy. 9/10
Still, there was only ever one reason most of the 45,000 odd people gathered in Finsbury Park had made the journey. As smoke drifted across the stage and the now-familiar orchestral introduction swelled through the speakers, one chant gradually consumed the park.
“Biffy! Biffy! Biffy fucking Clyro!”
Then, the ‘that’s Parasite Eve!’-exclamation-inspiring Erghen Diado (Song Of Schopsko) With ‘tapan and Spoons on the speakers, just to get a little bit more hype going… and then they were there.
Launching into The Captain — seemingly their go to for all of the big, monumental moments of their careers — there wasn’t a face in sight who wasn’t either gasping for breath or screaming along to the distinctly crowd-led fan favourite, Mike Vennart his usual debonair, distinguished self on guitar while the topless, custom-Levi-kilt-wearing Simon Neil, a wide-eyed, maniacal-grinning, loveable loon, led proceedings. But even though the weather had cooled down, Biffy refused to let that stand — why else would they follow that up with the one-two punch of That Golden Rule and Who’s Got A Match, the latter leaving Simon unattended like a hyper child as he shot a flamethrower into the sky?
Visually, it was spectacular. Biffy gigs usually are, sure, but Finsbury saw the group go above and beyond. Pyro exploded almost constantly, curtains of sparks cascaded from the rigging during Biblical, confetti cannons transformed Mountains into a blizzard of colour and enough lights flashed across the park to leave anyone without sunglasses temporarily blinded. Yet for all the spectacle, it was still the songs doing the heavy lifting — effortlessly, we might add.
Simon Neil remains one of rock’s most compelling frontmen, somehow capable of looking impossibly intense and endlessly joyful all at once, the epitome of smiling with his eyes. Even while throwing himself into the frantic riffs of Living Is A Problem Because Everything Dies — featuring a snippet of Questions and Answers from sophomore album The Vertigo of Bliss — or the long-awaited return of Booooom, Blast & Ruin making its first UK appearance in over a decade, even the heavy felt endlessly joyous.
Speaking of long-awaited, there were treats for the diehards everywhere. Some were more ‘common’ than others — God & Satan isn’t regular, per say, but isn’t that rare either, and the silence at the end of the track breaking into A Little Love’s intro felt inspired. But Justboy resurfacing after a painful few years away from regular setlists, the aforementioned-mentioned …Blast & Ruin, or the more important airing of There’s No Such Man As Crasp, the seven on stage huddled around one mic — a track that hadn’t been played since 2009, bar the A Celebration Of Beginnings anniversary shows in 2024. Less so for the song itself, although seeing the band that have headlined Download multiple times singing acapella is always fun, but what it represents. For those two minutes, you could feel an unhinged, excited tension in the crowd — they were playing There’s No Such Thing As a Jaggy Snake! Cue carnage, although perhaps not as much as such a song always warrants.
Side note — speaking of A Celebration Of Beginnings, where are those professional recordings? If ever there was a night to live again in perpetuity, it’s those three!
That balance, pivoting on a dime between heavenly and heavy, has always been one of Biffy’s greatest strengths. One moment they were inducing localised earthquakes with the pulverising Hunting Season, Cop Syrup or Hunger In Your Haunt; the next they were standing almost motionless as Space floated across Finsbury Park, or letting the aching beauty of Goodbye or the sing-along glory of Black Chandelier breathe beneath a canopy of twinkling lights.
The encore only reinforced it.
Simon returned alone, acoustic guitar in hand, for a spine-tingling rendition of Machines, joined only by a violinist — at least until Vecna showed up, as Counterfeit’s Jamie Campbell-Bower rocked up to join him on vocal duties. A heart-warming, gentle moment… at least until the silence was shattered for Wolves of Winter. Strange, then, that Bubbles then prompted the biggest pit of the day?
Finally, as Scottish flags rose above the crowd, it was time for Many of Horror, all 45,000 odd voices united in one final chorus. It was impossible not to smile. And, as fireworks crackled overhead and the band gathered arm in arm to soak in the moment, Simon Neil stepped towards the microphone one last time.
“We are Biffy Fucking Clyro.”
Let’s be honest — are there any better words in the dictionary?
Mon The Biff.
10/10. Obviously.
Written By: James O’Sullivan
