There are headline sets that simply close a festival, and then there are headline sets that make the night feel as though it has been detonated. Biffy Clyro delivered the latter at Edinburgh Summer Sessions. By the time they left the stage, the air was still thick with smoke, the ground was layered in confetti and streamers, and thousands of people were still singing their way towards the exits. It was loud, theatrical, occasionally ridiculous, and completely glorious.
But the night did not belong to Biffy Clyro alone. Earlier in the day, Edinburgh’s own Swim School had warmed the crowd with a sharp display of guitar-led rock, while Nothing But Thieves had raised the bar with a set that could easily have headlined a festival in its own right. Even so, as the evening light began to fade and the field pressed closer to the stage, the atmosphere changed. It became clear that most people in attendance had been waiting for one band. And when Biffy Clyro finally walked out, the roar that swept across the site confirmed it.
Opening a bill of this size is rarely glamorous. The crowd is still wandering in, the sound is still settling, and the headliners are still hours away. Swim School, however, treated the early slot as an opportunity rather than a burden.
Frontwoman Alice Johnson led her Edinburgh band through a set of tight, distorted alt-rock that carried across the open air with impressive force. The guitars were jagged, the rhythm section was locked in, and Johnson’s vocals cut through with directness and attitude. There was no filler, no slow build toward something distant. The band simply got on with it, delivering one sharp, punchy song after another.
Tracks like “Alone With You” and “See Red” landed neatly with the early arrivals, but the real story was the welcome Swim School received. This was a hometown show, and the crowd responded as such. What often sounds like polite applause for an opening act turned into proper, vocal support, with pockets of fans making it clear that this was a band worth seeing.
They closed with “Heaven,” a song that felt like a mission statement. By the end, Swim School looked entirely at home on a large festival stage. If this set was an audition for bigger things, they passed with considerable ease.
Next up, Nothing But Thieves delivered a set that was heavier, broader, and built for the open air. Their music has always walked a line between alternative rock and electronic pop, but live, the guitars hit harder and the choruses stretched out even further.
Conor Mason remains one of the finest live singers in British rock. His voice moved between tender, understated passages and soaring, near-ballistic highs, often within the same song. Tracks like “Welcome to the DCC” immediately snapped the crowd into focus, while “Trip Switch” and “Amsterdam” triggered the first proper mass singalongs of the day. By the time “Impossible” arrived, huge sections of the audience were shouting the chorus straight back at the stage.
There was a feeling, watching Nothing But Thieves, that they were holding back some of their best material for a headline slot of their own. The confidence, the sound, and the songs were all there. Yet even as they left the stage to a hearty ovation, the excitement in the crowd was already shifting toward what came next. Biffy Clyro were waiting in the wings, and the anticipation was palpable.
When Simon Neil, Ben Johnston, and touring guitarist Naomi Macleod walked into the lights, the sound that greeted them was more than applause. It was a roar, a cheer formed over years of shared history between this band and their audience. Biffy Clyro have spent their career building a deep connection with Scottish fans and beyond, and that bond was visible across every corner of the field.
Macleod, standing in for James Johnston on this tour, slotted into the lineup with remarkable ease. She already plays with Simon Neil in Empire State Bastard, and that chemistry showed on stage. Her guitar added weight and texture to the songs, while her interactions with Ben Johnston gave the rhythm section an extra layer of energy. The trio, completed by Neil’s unmistakable presence, moved like a band that had been playing together for far longer than this particular configuration had existed.
Neil was in typically magnetic form. Between songs, he joked, smiled, and spoke to the crowd like an old friend. When the music started again, he threw himself into it with the same frantic, slightly unpredictable energy that has always made Biffy Clyro so compelling live. He did not simply sing the songs. He attacked them, wrestled with them, and let them tear through him.
The set itself was a masterclass in dynamics. Quiet passages sat alongside bursts of heavy, punishing noise. Melodic hooks were wrapped around jagged time signatures and sudden shifts in mood. The crowd followed every twist. Fans sang along to deep cuts and radio hits alike, often at a volume that threatened to overpower the band themselves.
This was not a casual festival audience. These were people who knew the words, knew the pauses, and knew exactly when a song was about to explode.
The production, already impressive, reached another level during “We Got A Match.”
Simon Neil appeared with a flamethrower, sending towering blasts of fire racing above the stage while the rest of the band powered through the song. It was theatrical, over the top, and exactly the sort of moment Biffy Clyro have made their own. The flames turned an already thunderous performance into something visually unforgettable. Each burst of heat brought a fresh roar from the crowd, and for a moment, the night sky above the stage seemed to catch fire.
It was one of those images that will linger long after the festival is over. Fire, rock and roll and a Scottish crowd at full voice.
If “We Got A Match” brought the fire, “Mountains” delivered the purest emotional release of the night. The song has long been one of Biffy’s biggest live moments, and it still works with devastating effect.
As the opening chords arrived, confetti cannons fired across the audience, sending thousands of pieces of paper into the air. The crowd sang with such force that the band almost became secondary. The chorus was carried by the field itself, a mass voice rising into the night. It was the kind of moment that separates great gigs from unforgettable ones. The music felt shared, communal, and something created by everyone present.
Biffy has always understood this balance. Their songs are heavy, complex, and often unpredictable, but they still give a crowd something direct to cling to. “Mountains” is the perfect example. It thunders and soars, and yet it remains impossibly easy to sing along with.
After the confetti settled and the roar faded, the band left the stage. The encore opened with “Machines,” a quieter, more stripped-back song that offered a brief change of pace. For a few minutes, the field seemed to exhale. There was a gentler kind of singalong now, something less frantic but no less powerful.
The calm did not last long.
“Wolves of Winter” crashed back in with pounding drums, sharp guitar lines, and a surge of red streamers fired high above the audience. The streamers caught the stage lights and hung in the air like bright marks against the dark sky. It was one of the most striking visuals of the entire set. The juxtaposition of the song’s hard-edged energy and the almost beautiful image of red streamers drifting overhead created a moment that felt distinctly Biffy.
The crowd responded in kind, jumping and shouting as the band tore through the track.
Then came “Bubbles.”
The opening notes triggered one of the biggest reactions of the day. It was the sound of a crowd finding the song they had been waiting for, the song that made all other moments feel like preparation. Bodies moved. Voices rose. From the front barriers to the back of the field, people shouted every word back at the stage.
Neil fed off the energy, charging around the stage while Ben Johnston and Macleod maintained a relentless, driving rhythm. The song never loosened its grip. The chorus hit, and the entire field seemed to become a single wave of sound. It no longer felt like watching a festival set. It felt like being inside something larger, a collective burst of noise and emotion.
It was frantic, messy, and utterly brilliant.
After the flames, the confetti, the streamers, and the chaos of “Bubbles,” Biffy Clyro closed the night with “Many of Horror.”
The mood shifted once more. Where “Bubbles” had been urgent and wild, the final song felt more personal, despite the enormous audience. Thousands of voices joined Neil for the final chorus, turning the song into a shared moment of catharsis. It was less a performance and more a promise, something carried by everyone in the field together.
As the final lines rang out, fireworks exploded above the stage, painting the sky in bright colours. It was the last great image of the night. But the sound of the audience stayed behind long after the lights dimmed. People were still singing as they made their way out, still discussing the flamethrower, still arguing over which songs should have made the set.
Swim School made the most of a major hometown slot and looked every inch a band on the rise. Nothing But Thieves delivered a powerful, anthemic set that reinforced their reputation as one of Britain’s strongest live acts. But Biffy Clyro took the night to another place entirely.
The flamethrower during “We Got A Match,” the confetti on “Mountains,” the red streamers during “Wolves of Winter,” and the fireworks above “Many of Horror” gave the show plenty of iconic moments. More than any single effect, though, it was the relationship between the band and the audience that made the night special. Biffy brought the songs, the spectacle, and the chaos. Edinburgh brought the noise.
Together, they closed the Summer Sessions the only way Biffy Clyro ever does: loudly, dramatically, and with thousands of voices still hanging in the air.
Review and Crowd Photographs by James Edmond
