Squid at Brighton Music Hall, 3/25
By Ethan Lam and Lola Nedic
“How do they sound exactly the same as they do on the album?” we yelled to each other about halfway through Squid’s set. Perhaps what was most impressive about the UK 5-piece’s show at Brighton Music Hall was how tightly executed their set was. Even though their sound is so liberatingly loose and chaotic, not a single instrument ever sounded out of place. Lead vocals, a duty traded between drummer Ollie Judge and guitarists Louis Borlase & Anton Pearson, were as expressive as ever. Judge in particular yelped and shouted so vigorously that we couldn’t help but wonder how he hadn’t howled himself hoarse over the course of the band’s 12 date US tour.
Bright Green Field was one of our favorite records of 2021. In a year full of standout post-punk-prog-rock-post-Brexit-whatever-you-wanna-call-it releases, that was no easy feat. We had been looking forward to this show for the better part of the semester, and are happy to report that it more than lived up to expectations. Squid are unbelievably good live – we couldn’t help but feel that we were witnessing the early days of one of the most important underground bands for years to come.
The band warmed the crowd up with an extended intro before launching into BGF highlight “Peel St,” a song that spawned an inevitable mosh pit. After a quick check-in to make sure everybody in the crowd was alright, they continued their set with “Fugue,” an unreleased track that we hope makes it onto their next record. Norlase, Pearson, and Judge split vocal duties on the following track “Paddling,” a relatively calm song – at least by Squid standards – that gave the hyped-up audience a chance to rest.
The rest of Squid’s set was as frenzied, skittery, and wild as we had hoped it would be. Twitchy songs such as “Pamphlets” and “Sludge” highlighted the band’s eccentric style – one that is punkishly dissonant yet impossibly calculated. The songs change texture twice, perhaps even thrice throughout their runtime, revealing entirely new edges and shapes as you continue to listen. The crowd ebbed and flowed with Squid’s stormy songs, an almost perfectly choreographed tango of men in cuffed beanies.
After the sort-of-pocket-of-quiet offered by “Documentary Filmmaker” and interlude that ensued, the band began to bring the set to a close. They had saved two absolute rippers for last, as they launched into crowd favorite “G.S.K.” The crowd, a most fascinating amalgamation of individuals, seemed torn on how to react. Half of the audience geared up for action, harnessing kinetic energy for the hell pit they were about to create. The other half threw themselves deeper into their own heads, gently singing the song and creating an intimate experience entirely their own. We even saw a couple slow-dancing to the song, which, though odd, proved to be sufficiently entertaining for us both. A few rows away from us, the mosh kicked into overdrive – and then into hyperspeed, as Squid sent us off into the night with “Narrator.” We speak on behalf of everyone at this show when we say that the only thing going through our heads at that moment was “Holy shit, this is the best song I’ve ever heard.” We stumbled out of the venue into the Allston night with shit-eating grins on our faces, certain that Squid had just put on one of the best sets that the both of us had ever seen.
Throughout the night, the crowd bustled with energy. The mosh rarely stopped for more than a minute, and a few people even began to crowdsurf – a surprisingly rare sight in Boston. It was proof that above all else, Squid know how to compose songs with frankly dangerous amounts of groove backing them up – the perfect music for sweaty, excitable, young bodies.