Squid - Bright Green Field Review
“Squid are not the “new Black Country, New Road”, Squid are Squid, and what they offer us here is exciting and unique, with an eccentric and groovy energy taking us through a new take on new wave.”
Brighton five-piece Squid are yet another exciting alumnus of Speedy Wunderground, breaking out alongside the now somewhat notorious bands black midi and Black Country, New Road — both of whom also have releases out or scheduled for this year. Squid, however, exist apart from those two, whose paths have been interwoven. Instead, Squid have been a little more under the radar, but not by much, and found a following which, while overlapping with those of the other two, is a little more of its own. Their comparisons are different too: Squid are thought of more in relation to Talking Heads than to Slint. This debut album, Bright Green Field, also comes after considerably more content, creating possibly less of an air of mystery — they had already released two EPs prior to this album. It’s easy though, from the context of their roots, to make these comparisons, and it’s also easy to go a little too far with it — Squid are not the “new Black Country, New Road”, Squid are Squid, and what they offer us here is exciting and unique, with an eccentric and groovy energy taking us through a new take on new wave.
One of the earlier tracks which best exemplifies their distinct aesthetic is the first single released in anticipation of this debut: ‘Narrator’. An eight-minute epic, it has a sort of disjointed, almost unnatural, groove to it, comparable only to the sound of ‘Buy’ by James Chance and the Contortions, but with a mathy guitar lick flowing through the middle of the mix. As Martha Skye Murphy’s feature comes in, there is a tense, jerking crescendo that follows the hook “I’ll play my own part”, developing into a slightly haunting atmosphere, with screams surrounding a rushing, swirling guitar solo.
We can also hear the classic Squid sound which has helped them to make a name for themselves over the past couple of years in the first half of the track ‘Boy Racers’: a jerky beat and some intricate guitar play, with some synthy production to take the edge off the otherwise angular and near-staccato sound. The yelped, eccentric vocals also take centre-stage, with abstract lyrics radiating anxiety. This is then followed by a synth solo outro — or that’s what it seems like at first anyway. But it actually lasts for over four minutes, longer than the much more interesting preceding section of the song; while it develops into a dissonant effect that brings an interestingly uneasy feeling to their sound, it lasts too long, feeling played-out a little too far.
As we get towards the middle of the album, there are a couple of weaker tracks for me, namely ‘Documentary Filmmaker’ and ‘2010’. While the former offers a chance for a breather from some of the manic grooves ladled out generously throughout many of the tracks, it doesn’t offer much to make that break enjoyable. Around the middle, the tempo picks back up with a crescendo but does so in quite an unsatisfying and jarring way. The trumpet arpeggios are quite pretty, but they are really the only thing going for this track, which also features one of my main irks: lyrics repeated what feels like dozens of times. This is one of the main issues I find with ‘2010’ too, but here it is also coupled with one of the weaker vocal performances on the album. While I like the Radiohead-esque build from the start, the transition into more thrashing guitars sounds a little premature, a jump that doesn’t quite feel right, possibly having jumped too soon or too far. Often, I really enjoy a loud/quiet/loud aesthetic as we are given here, but I think in this track it’s unfortunately not particularly well-executed.
One criticism that could be raised against Squid with this album is the extent to which they wear their late-70s post-punk influence on their sleeve, but for me, they expand on these styles in a new, modernised, and engaging way. James Chance, as mentioned, seems a big influence here, while the track ‘Paddling’ sounds like an expansion of something that could have been on an early Devo album, with the same retrofuturist cosmic aesthetic to the instrumentals and a coldness to the vocal delivery which also seems quite Devo-reminiscent. The lyrics also follow this vibe, coming across as a dystopian sci-fi take on a coming-of-age theme. ‘Peel St.’ reminds me of a slightly more experimental take on what The Units were doing with ‘High Pressure Days’; Squid go noisier and more manic, though. I really like the way the 8-bit beat emerges, forming the skeleton of the instrumental, but then they expand on it with a frenzied retrofuturist ambience. The lyrics here are really interesting too, very openly based on Anna Kaven’s 1967 novel Ice, referencing the ice covering the town, and The Warden – the only named character in the book. Ollie Judge, the vocalist, at one point even yelps out “Oh Anna!” just in case it wasn’t clear enough. The chorus, “I’m falling in, I’m falling out”, could also be a reference to the dreamlike, hallucinogenic style of the book.
The closer, ‘Pamphlets’, is another classic Squid banger, again with some interesting lyrics to dissect, seemingly painting a picture of someone riddled with the anxiety created by advertising and consumerist culture. The long instrumental passage here also works really well, making a real statement while closing out the album with its racing bassline, wandering guitar and driving drumming.
Squid are probably one of the most maximalist bands around at the moment, really throwing everything but the kitchen sink at their sound. Often it pays off, but sometimes it can just feel like a little too much: unnecessarily drawn-out instrumental passages, overperformed vocals or premature jumps into walls of noise some of the culprits on Bright Green Field. However, at their best, which they are here for the most part, they have built a unique, eccentric and downright fun style, which is able both to make you want to move and showcase their brilliant musicianship. Also, stop calling them “the new Black Country, New Road”.
