Squid, an assembled-in-Brighton but Bristol-based post-punk band, returned home with the promise of an excellent show. Upon arrival, we were all marked with a custom “Cowards” stamp—the title of their new album and the tour that was bringing them to the Beacon.
The band, made up of Ollie Judge (vocals and drums), Louis Borlase (guitar and vocals), Anton Pearson (guitar and vocals), Laurie Nankivell (bass), and Arthur Leadbetter (keyboards), were joined by Rosa Brook on violin and Martha Skye Murphy, who opened for the band.
Martha Skye Murphy is clearly a performer—she did not break character once, even using a voice generator to interact with the crowd rather than speaking. Her voice is otherworldly, and the material from her debut album, Um, was reminiscent of the sounds of Kate Bush and Björk. The ethereal and ambient soundscapes she artfully crafted led beautifully into Squid’s set.
Later, from the darkness, Squid emerged, wasting no time and bursting into Crispy Skin, the first track from their new album. Inspired by the novel Tender Is the Flesh, the song opens with a manic symphony of synths, built upon by haunting lyrics and transient guitar riffs. As the band shifted into Building 650, I found myself admiring their unbridled creativity—I had just noticed a sort of DIY drum kit made from tomato tins and bicycle wheels.
At their core, Squid are experimental, and this showcase of their new album truly demonstrated their distinctive sound. The rest of the set had an effortlessly flowing quality, as they bled from one song to the next. The middle section, comprising Showtime!, G.S.K., Swing (In a Dream), Cowards, and Cro-Magnon Man, felt like being pulled into a different world. They play with dynamics and textures masterfully, resulting in hauntingly immersive songs that echoed around the building with a fantastical quality.
Underneath it all, a driving force was building within the crowd, and by the time the band reached Undergrowth, it was ready to erupt. With The Blades, the last song of their set, movement rippled through the pit, and the applause and cheers for the band were unmistakable.
They wasted no time gliding into the encore, opening with Interlude—a diaphanous chorus of sound, with echoing motifs from Crispy Skin that were built upon and explored. Martha Skye Murphy returned to the stage, joining the band for Narrator, the first single from their debut album, Bright Green Field. Watching the whole group together was phenomenal; they were hypnotic, akin to sirens.
Finally, the set closed with Well Met (Fingers Through the Fence), the final song on Cowards and a perfect finale for the night. The band slipped off stage through the fingers of a crowd not quite ready to let them go, already mourning the end of a concert that had enraptured its audience.
The next day, my “Cowards” insignia had faded—but the memory of the night was far from gone.
