Though “The Captain” is an undoubtedly well orchestrated piece of music, epic in its melodic emotion and pretty listenable, it feels a bit too normal, a bit too friendly.
The beginning and the end offer up defiant slices of what could be a dystopian movie's soundtrack but the soft and soppy centre, seemingly compiled to be a crowd-pleaser; a moment in which microphones are switched and the audience takes control are evidence of a shaky ship or a glass vase, cracking under growing popularity, forced into meaningless collections of words easy to remember and not hard to decipher.
When Biffy Clyro are obtrusive and oppressive, they have a coarse spark, a rough edge. In “The Captain”, they are transparent shadows whistling their way to safe waters and before it’s called a “growing up phase” or any other obsequious slant on its obvious patchiness, I’d like to say that you don’t grow up by getting softer or less harsh, you grow up getting more nasty, getting more dangerous and by believing every single word you say.
