Review Summary: Slick, commercial muzak for slick, commercial listeners, accidentally branded with the Biffy Clyro name.
Leaping to majors is a big moment. All of a sudden, you have the world at your feet (or so you'd like to think), and you're about to become huge with the aid of your wonderful corporate buddies. Unfortunately, sooner or later you realize that your wonderful corporate buddies who gave you this fabulous chance are mostly interested in making a profit, and you are expected to abandon (or at least severely back out on) your creative ideas if they do not go too well with the current “it” sound. But hey, you're on a big label, right?
Biffy Clyro made a mistake. Be it out of juvenile naiveness, lust for money and irrational hope for maintaining unstirred creative control – I don't know. For whatever reason, they decided that they want to move up from their indie bungalow and scored a deal with Warner offshoot 14th Floor. Their 4th album, Puzzle, followed soon thereafter. It was heavily alarming – whilst the record managed to retain some tiny fragments of the trademark sound that made the band so incredible in the early days of their career, it veered dangerously close to instant mainstream gratification alarmingly often, at times succumbing to it entirely. The supposedly non-album single “Mountains” that popped a year later continued Biffy's devolution, happily abandoning any of their preserved old character in favor of cheddar pathos. With an album in the works, Biffy's spectacular demise was just around the corner...
...thing is, the band can't even die properly. Instead of a spectacular faceplant against concrete that would leave old fans jeering and (happily) storming away, Biffy delivers an album of utter indifference and lack of content. It's impossible to rage against it – it's as emotionally captivating as getting into a tantrum about air. There's just nothing here... it's the sound of a gifted and invigorating band half-heartedly committing themselves to making corporate muzak. Nowhere is Biffy's transformation more apparent than in the singles – “Mountains” has been dealt with already, “The Captain” proudly showcases an empty, shanty-like melody that evokes a pirate-themed junior high costume party, and “That Golden Rule” is just weird enough for more adventurous radio listeners to proclaim their taste as “unusual”. Compare those songs to any random track from Biffy's first three albums... is this the same band we're listening to?
The remaining nine cuts don't offer any redeeming value either, their main purpose being to not offend the kids who bought this for the singles. “God And Satan” is my bet for the next installment in the series, an obvious heir (if one decides to not call it a clone) of “Machines” – a passable, yet ultimately forgettable acoustic ballad. “Bubbles” meanders along pointlessly, and the 7/8 outro comes off as pretentious, not original (as most likely intended). “Many of Horror” is rock bottom, an overly saccharine and foreseeable ballad sporting a set of perfectly disposable lyrics. “Cloud of Stink” sees Biffy almost trying to almost get it right, but they apparently can't be bothered to make even one song with character these days. “Whorses” features some lively, galloping percussive action and slightly above average melodies, thusly making it the highlight of the album. Not that it's saying much...
Biffy's transformation is complete. Only Revolutions is a workmanlike, mainstream affair – crafted by a mainstream band for mainstream listeners. If you fancy just about any song that plays on the radio, this will tickle your fancy. If you approach albums looking for any form of content in your music, steer clear – Biffy has succeeded in becoming yet another corporate act. Unlike other fresh additions to the family, they have a history of albums that any band respecting the quality level of their music would kill for. Biffy's Myspace just got tagged with powerpop, and the suddenly beardless Simon can go rejoice with his buddies. If this is what he wanted.
