Biffy Clyro frontman Simon Neil: ‘We took Slayer’s Dave Lombardo to Todmorden for a curry and a pint’

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I’ve heard snippets about the concept of Futique, the band’s new album. Is it true you’ve got into meditation recently? SassyWraps
About 12 years ago I had a nervous breakdown, and in therapy I did so much meditation that everything became existential and I thought there was no point to anything. In the last few years I’ve revisited therapy for my mental health but also started to enjoy life. I realised that I hadn’t noticed a lot of my happiest – and saddest – moments until years after the fact. Last year, I looked at old family photos for the first time in 20 years, since my mum passed away. I realised that, by ignoring painful memories, I’d been denying part of myself. I found joy in understanding that everything that happens makes you who you are. It pulled me out of a fog – so the album is about embracing whatever’s happening now. Last year, Ben, James and I fell out for the first time ever, but focusing on the friendship and the positive things we’d shared brought us back together: we could have easily dropped everything and walked away.

Did you really take [Slayer drummer] Dave Lombardo to Greggs in Todmorden [West Yorkshire]? gongpaul
Todmorden is the UFO sightings capital of Europe! We spent eight days there [in Lapwing studio] and it was hilarious. We took Dave for a curry and a pint, and whenever anyone recognised him they were in disbelief. Below the studio, there’s a nursery. The day we left, the council wrote to the studio asking them to close, because the noise of us playing thrash metal upstairs was traumatising the children.

Do you have a favourite tattoo and what is its significance? Joddiet
I’ve got loads of ridiculous tattoos, but the one that means most to me is the one on my arm that I got in memory of my mother the year she passed away. It’s from a photo [of my parents] which I couldn’t look at for years, but I put it on my arm and now on the album cover [of Futique], because I’ve resolved my relationship with it. Rather than seeing my mum who isn’t here any more, I see two young people about to start their life together. Every step I’ve ever taken goes back to my parents, so now I see the picture as celebratory rather than sad. It reminds me that I’m an adult now – “He plays guitar with his shirt off … Really?!” – but that picture goes hand in hand with how I ended up where I am.

portrait photo
L-R: Simon Neil, James Johnston and Ben Johnston of Biffy Clyro. Photograph: Warner Music Group

What are your thoughts on Matt Cardle’s version of Many of Horror? stephenw1979
At the time [2010], an X Factor pop performer doing one of our songs was seen as blasphemous, which is probably why I liked it. We’ve got the worst name in history and were making weird music to purposely alienate people, and suddenly The X Factor came to us. We said they could cover it as long as they changed the title [to When We Collide], so if you Googled Many of Horror you didn’t get a cover version. I love the fact that [Cardle’s version of] our song became the mainstream Christmas No 1 – it’s one of the most iconoclastic things we’ve done. He did a great job, although the other day we were staying in an Airbnb near rehearsals and the owner said she wanted to show us a video of her young sons dancing to Many of Horror. It was the Matt Cardle version.

As well as Empire State Bastard you also have a lesser-known side project, Marmaduke Duke. Is a third record on the cards? AdamVallely
Every four or five albums, I need to make music that doesn’t have the weight of expectation – my own – of Biffy songs. Marmaduke Duke are better to talk about than listen to. The first album is acoustic songs, punk songs and drone songs. For the second, Duke Pandemonium, we wore masks and tights and channelled the Bee Gees. It was quite provocative. A third album is 80% finished but I’m now in Biffy mode. Empire State Bastard is atonal noise. Dave Lombardo – the best metal drummer of all time – played with us. During Covid I needed to make something almost everyone I knew would hate. My dad said: “I’ve tried to listen to it, son. I just couldn’t.”

Do you remember when you played a swimming pool in Germany? APraiseChorus30
Of course we do! We ended up soaking wet on stage and the entire crowd were in the water in their swimming gear. There was some eyebrow-raising sexual stuff going on at the front. It was a memorable show, then at the end I threw my guitar down and leaped off the Olympic-size diving board. I’ve got a great photo of it: it’s the longest I’ve ever spent in the air apart from flying.

I’ve watched you go from supporting the Cooper Temple Clause in 2002 (tickets £5) to Wembley Stadium. Do you miss those raw intimate venues or do you prefer arenas? Kangafeet
Ten years ago I’d have said the magic of a small gig can’t be replicated, but you can create a different kind of magic in a big show. We’ve learned so much about the stage show from touring with Muse, Foo Fighters and Queens of the Stone Age, but when I was 18 I saw Girls Against Boys with two bass players at Glasgow’s King Tut’s and thought it was the coolest, sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Those gigs change lives. You come out of those shows physically and molecularly transformed. Although the power of a large show can elevate your spirit. I went to see Oasis recently and seeing the joy on people’s faces meant so much. You know you’re getting carried away when you’re watching the support act and going: “Richard Ashcroft’s the greatest singer this country’s ever …” Honestly, man? [laughter] God bless you, Richard. Don’t fight me.

Simon Neil plays guitar in front of yellow lights
On stage in Glasgow last summer. Photograph: Roberto Ricciuti/Redferns

How did it feel to finally top the bill at Download [in 2017]? NotDrivingAMiniMetro
Download’s a weird one for me because I came from metal. I started with Guns N’ Roses, then got into Pantera and all that. Everything I bought back in the day led to Download. It’s one of the few festivals, like Glastonbury, where there’s so much history and you feel the glorious comebacks, the tragedies, the amazing moments. I still think of it as being for legendary bands and to finally headline felt like impostor syndrome. Once we started playing, I thought, “We’re here because we deserve it!” But you never take it for granted and you want to give someone the best show they’ll see all weekend.

I’m a big fan, aged 75, from Manchester and love the fact that you sound so Scottish. Was it important to retain your accents and did you encounter any resistance? teemac
On our first couple of records I’ve got an American twang which I’m kind of embarrassed about. When you start off, you impersonate your heroes, and I was inspired by American music. Gradually, I realised that the songs people remember are real, from the heart, and you can’t fake that stuff. It was a huge turning point, and I started singing in my own voice. The only resistance we’ve had is in America – “People won’t understand a Scottish accent” – but if that conversation starts now I can’t be dealing with it.

When I was in a band in Ireland, our singer excitedly told us about your guerrilla “play anywhere” approach to gigging. Am I remembering correctly? kingofthestoneage
That makes us sound a bit more anarchic than we were, but we toured deep Ireland a few times when we were young and if anyone wanted us to play a show, we’d try to make it happen. It’s a bit romantic to call them guerrilla gigs, but we played the Half Moon in Cork to 14 people and a tiny room in Belfast to 12 people. They were some of our most exciting shows at that point, because the people coming really cared. We learned that we’d rather be 100 people’s favourite band than a million people’s 10th favourite. When I look back at our touring schedule or the fact we made three records in three years, I don’t know how we did that, but back then we had energy to burn.

I first saw you at the Kay Park Tavern, Kilmarnock. Did you opt for the £40 payment or the free bar? darko1979
Of course we took the free bar, because we knew we’d drink more than £40 worth of booze. At those gigs there was always some old drunk guy going, “Play some fucking Motörhead!” or something, but it taught us to keep on doing what we were doing. Looking back, it was a bit arrogant at 16 years of age to turn up and play original songs, but people remember that. They don’t remember a set of Led Zeppelin or Oasis covers.

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