It’s Biffy fuckin’ Clyro, ye radge. (Not that you could tell from this photo; my down-the-front days are long gone.)
Rescheduled from February due to You Know What, this gig (last night at Den Grå Hal, Christiania, Copenhagen) happened to fall on the night before the last day of my contract at Lund. I’ve not kept up with their more recent material, but remember Biffy as unarguably the hardest working band of the Noughties post-hardcore scene in the UK, and will always love them for having written an album that, some years after its release, saved my sanity, and perhaps even my life. They still play a belter of a show, too; L____ is a convert now, I think.
So yeah—a celebration of endings, then, which are also always already beginnings. I’m not out of academia yet—I have nine more months part time at Malmö U, starting on Monday—but given the various writings on various walls, I’m assuming this is my last lap. So I’m treating it as an off-ramp, a period of personal transition against a backdrop of systemic transition; time to see what new doors are open, and what might be behind them.
In the unlikely event that anyone still reading this blog knows somewhere that a person of my particular talents and obsessions might be of remunerative use, do please drop me a line. Otherwise, stay tuned for whatever comes next.