Squid are a fascinating act to cover. Made up of five members – all as expressive and as tetchy as each other in their musicalities – and prone to fusing genres almost at random, the group are somewhat of a Frankenstein’s Monster of a band. Equal parts post-punk as they are funk, jazz, and prog-rock, they oscillate between more sounds in one song than most bands do across a whole album. Their sprawling records are a testament to this. And, so was their live show.
Across their thirteen-song setlist, Squid put everything on show at Manchester’s New Century. In a flurry of percussion antics, and amidst the largest amount of mullets humanly possible in one concentrated area, it was difficult to work out whether it all really came together. Squid’s Manchester show was energetic, festering with natural improvisation and influence, but ultimately marred by a jarring pretentiousness and a stumbling lack of direction.
“It’s just verses followed by verses… the songs don’t actually go anywhere!” a punter mumbled to their group of friends as Squid idled through one of their many lengthy instrumental synthesiser experiments. Musical interludes were commonplace across Squid’s set – some more interesting than others. At best, they came across as introspective Brian Eno soundscapes (not too dissimilar to his recent work on Netflix’s Top Boy), and at worst, they came across as increasingly alienating, momentum-killing moments met with idle chat and confused, half-hearted applause.
The aforementioned punter’s comment seemed to mark a divide in Squid’s appeal – he was right in that their songs don’t particularly reach any sort of musical or melodic resolution, often succumbing to watery experimental breaks, but it was less clear whether this assertion was praise or criticism. On songs such as ‘Documentary Filmmaker’ or ‘After The Flash’, effervescent instrumentals rang across New Century to great excitement, but never reached any sort of gratifying conclusion.
This marked a significant split – much of the crowd was content in moshing along to Talking Heads-lite jams that stretched on indefinitely, whilst others frustratedly waited for the kooky mix of rambling vocals, wiry guitars and apocalyptic trumpets (think Radiohead’s ‘The National Anthem’) to evolve into something – or, anything – resembling a chorus. Squid’s pretentiousness equally enamoured as it did alienate New Century’s audience.
Post-punk’s hallmarks – both charming and irritating – were displayed here potently. Ollie Judge’s vocals, whilst immensely impressive considering the frontman also plays the drums, seemed to nod towards the wavering, and increasingly saturated, appeal of the post-post-punk revival. At the end of the set, Judge jumped up from the drum kit, performing ‘The Blades’ in a raspy whine whilst wrapping the microphone lead around his neck. What may have been dangerous, sexy, or politically-charged for Iggy Pop in the 60s/70s doesn’t quite hit the mark when aped by Squid’s shaggy-haired, smiley frontman/drummer.
However, credit must be given to Squid, especially considering that half of their audience at New Century were indeed enrapt – in every sense of the word – in the band’s soundscapes. Doc Martens were stamped, graphic tees were ripped and mosh pits were opened up: a whirlwind of aggression rarely seen at a gig for such an art-house band. This was a surprise that shouldn’t go unnoticed. Even if some of the longer instrumentals began to lose their charm, it’d be a lie to say that the funk-fuelled rhythms weren’t frequently compelling to immerse yourself in.
Classic debut LP track ‘G.S.K’ was delivered with crisp, lean professionalism, its dub-meets-punk bassline bursting through the mix with wonderful tenacity. Squid’s bass player/trumpeter Laurie Nankivell might just be the heart and soul of the group – his bass-lines and brass parts were consistently enjoyable: mixing the disparate influences of Public Image Ltd. and Marvin Gaye. Elastic and acrobatic, the bass parts often made up for the otherwise disjointed songwriting.
There was definitely a triumph somewhere in Squid’s headline set – many punters left with manic grins and quickened heart rates. Personally, I just couldn’t quite find it.
