Zero Restraint, Maximum Damage, Biffy Clyro Tear Up Manchester

Desh Kapur
Jan 18
2 min read

Co - Op Live, Manchester 17th January 2026

WORDS MATTY BEZ / IMAGES DESH KAPUR

Zero Restraint, Maximum Damage, Biffy Clyro Tear Up Manchester — Photo Credit Desh Kapur

Saturday night at the Co-Op Live in Manchester and Biffy Clyro had arrived with intent. it was a controlled ignition. A physical, emotional confrontation delivered with the confidence of a band who know exactly who they are, and exactly how much damage they can still do when the lights go down.

Before a single note was struck, the arena was held in a vice. A low, steady pulse thudded through the building — industrial, relentless — a heartbeat bouncing off steel and concrete. It quickened. Grew heavier. Then it dropped out completely. Silence. Tens of thousands frozen in place, coiled and waiting, like crocodiles beneath the surface, muscles tensed, ready to erupt the second the water breaks.

The stage was shrouded in a huge cobweb of gauze, ghostly and oppressive. When “A Little Love” began, it was played mostly from behind that veil — sound arriving before bodies, silhouettes moving while the room strained to see more. It was a masterstroke in tension. As the gauze finally lifted, the release was immediate and violent.

Simon Neil emerged stripped back and feral — shirt off, tattoos fully exposed, sweat already pouring. No posing. No distance. Just raw presence. “Hunting Season” and “That Golden Rule” followed, snapping the crowd fully awake as riffs crashed down and drums landed like piledrivers. This was Biffy in attack mode — sharp, physical, and unflinching.

Momentum never dipped. “Who’s Got a Match?” and “Wolves of Winter” turned the floor into a surging mass, while “Tiny Indoor Fireworks” and “Space” brought a different kind of intensity — arms raised, voices cracking, emotion bubbling just beneath the noise. When “Biblical” arrived, the arena softened without losing weight; thousands singing back in unison, reverent and defiant all at once.

The light show was a weapon throughout. Pulsing strobes sliced through the darkness, disorienting and relentless. Pyro detonations rolled heat across the room. Streamers burst into the air at precisely the right moments, cascading down as the band hit full throttle. It wasn’t decoration — it was part of the assault.

Later, “Mountains” and “Black Chandelier” felt euphoric, communal, massive. “Machines” stripped everything back to the bone — fragile, devastating, the room hanging on every word — before “The Captain” and “Living Is a Problem Because Everything Dies” dragged things straight back into chaos, riffs grinding and nerves shredded. “Bubbles” pushed the place into meltdown.

And then the closer: “Many of Horror.” No tricks. No spectacle. Just one of the great modern closers, sung back at full volume by a crowd that knew exactly what they were part of.

My 5th time seeing Biffy and i was as blown away as ever!— A ferocious, emotionally loaded masterclass from a band operating at arena-wrecking level.