Previously, Squid have described their live shows as something like a DJ set – blending songs together, making stuff up and improvising a way to launch themselves from one sonic adventure to the next. Tonight at Bristol Beacon there is some of that on show, but in showcasing much of their latest album Cowards there is also an unforeseen tightness as the band rollicks through new tracks like ‘Building 650’ and ‘Showtime!’
There is also a darkness in evidence, apocalyptic lighting and smoke making the group almost indistinguishable as they fire into opener ‘Crispy Skin,’ itself a sinister portent with its lyrics “I couldn’t eat another thing, no more pages and pages of crispy skin.” ‘Swing (In a Dream)’ features pulsating rhythms and a doom-laden, trumpet infused breakdown. Lyrics veer between concrete realism and dark visions, between 24 hour petrol stations and industrial chemicals, while Showtime! features the Hot Chip-esque refrain “watch you watching you watching me”
This darkness is betrayed by the clear cheeriness of the group. A huge banner above reads “WE ARE FRIENDS”, referencing lyrics from ‘Building 650’ and its glitch-rock references to urban sprawls. Drummer and vocalist Oliver Judge, who seems something of a reluctant hype man, thanks everyone for coming out, and those many friends that have come in on the guestlist. Recent encampments and recording sessions at Peter Gabriel’s beautiful Real World Studios between Bath and Chippenham have clearly made them South West mainstays.
The quintet formed as a jazz group in a Bar in Brighton – although they are enhanced tonight by guest Rosa on percussion and violin – and it is in the jazzier, more melancholic moments that they excel. Laurie Nankivell’s trumpet playing – against a backdrop of pre-recorded trumpet – on the enchanting ‘Cowards’ is beautiful. Judge is able to channel In Rainbows era Thom Yorke as he adjusts his vocals from shouting to eerie crooning. The band then launch into Cro-Magnon Man, with a sound echoing the golden age of space exploration.
Excitement in the dedicated crowd reaches a peak for the encore of ‘Narrator,’ and a decent sized moshpit erupts. In the centre is a buoyant fan in an orange hat shaped like a squid. However, such is the improv-heavy and experimental nature of Squid’s music, the moshpit falters and fails to agree on when the best time to burst is. The energy is there nonetheless. Squid end the show with the more sombre ‘Well Met (Fingers Through the Fence),’ which manages to calm everything down and leave the gig on a peaceful, satisfied tone.