After 4 months of Omicron-induced gig hiatus, here I am going back-to-back already – talk about 0 to 100! After last night’s awesome Parquet Courts party (Parq-arty?), I find myself in the much more intimate confines of Bar Le Ritz on this dreary Saturday, to finally check out UK 5-piece Squid.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I am not overly familiar with them. A couple of blasts through their Spotify playlist, maybe, but besides that, I am relatively ill-prepared. I discovered them through their song The Cleaner (which, weirdly, doesn’t make their set tonight), liked what I heard, and basically threw myself in at the deep end. But I am more than happy to do so. If there’s one thing the pandemic has destroyed for me, it’s my knowledge of the up-and-coming bands on the alternative scene; I hadn’t realized how reliant I was on gig listings and support bands for getting to know new music until suddenly, there was no more of either.
The place is packed well before the band take to the stage at 8.30; apparently, Squid have quite the following here already, as the show sold out well in advance of tonight. As well as a truly unique sound, the live aesthetic is quite different to most bands too, with drummer and leader singer Ollie Judge front and center for the duration of the show. After a relatively delicate start in the form of Nines, Peel St. brings the cowbell (not many reviews where I can say that!) in conjunction with multiple pace changes, somewhat reminiscent of the chaos of Black Midi (who, incidentally, are in town this month too, mark those calendars!). Twinkly guitars, provided by Louis Borlase and Anton Pearson, lead swiftly into another drum pummelling from Ollie on Fugue, before all three take a verse each on a vicious Paddling.
Sensory overload is attained on Sludge, as an entire collection of cowbells are bludgeoned, a trumpet makes its first appearance, and Arthur Leadbetter sprinkles all manner of synth effects over the top of everything, building things up so much that the arrival of Pamphlets serves to light the fuse and set off the pit. The synth distortion at the end of Boy Racers is so deep and bassy, my innards rumble and my glasses shake; the Squid live show is more than just a show, it’s an immersive experience. Sevens feels like Bloc Party covering Kid A, such is the mix of electro-synths and angular riffs, while Documentary Filmmaker is just downright creepy, with its haunted jazz club vibes culminating in a series of beeps that melts seamlessly into the epic G.S.K.
Narrator is a tough proposition to listen to on record, thanks to an outro that consists primarily of screaming women; if you’ve seen the Let It Be documentary and those clips of Yoko howling into a mic as everyone else jams, you get the idea. Thankfully, the live incarnation of the song replaces screams with thrashing guitars, which is much more palatable and rounds out the 80-minute show perfectly (though a few women in the crowd attempt to add in the screams anyway).
A fantastic Montreal debut for Squid, and hopefully the first of many visits. It will be fascinating to see what their shows will become when the stages get bigger; I hope my glasses and my innards can handle it!
Setlist
- Nines
- Peel St.
- Fugue
- Paddling
- Sludge
- Pamphlets
- Boy Racers
- Sevens
- Documentary Filmmaker
- G.S.K.
- Narrator
Review & photos – Simon Williams
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