On May 23, Squid stopped by Brooklyn’s Warsaw Club for the grand finale of their North American tour promoting their latest record, Cowards. Music that seemed to bend time just by the long, busy instrumental sections; a punkish crowd of all ages coming together to “be quiet at the quiet parts and loud at the loud parts,” as vocalist and drummer Ollie Judge noted; a steel focus on producing the music as loudly as possible but a theatrical, semi-unserious spirit to the singing—Squid gave a performance that left me with a singular impression: This is how all live music should sound. This is how all art punk shows should be.

Up first was FearDorian, a young and up-and-coming rapper who supported the headliner throughout the US tour. Though he raps plainly, oftentimes just letting his lyrics flow out of him from song to song, his self-made beats—samples of early 2000s rock hits and shoegaze classics mixed with buzzy percussion—almost punched through Warsaw’s walls. The texture of his music became an audible spectacle, garnering some true excitement and hype from his already- passionate fans, headbanging and cheering along by appreciative listeners (myself included), and even some nods and claps to the intricate rhythms by those still getting acclimated to his post-internet, slightly hyperpop-tinged sound. Plus, he debuted some unreleased tracks that sounded exciting and even more experimental in production. If anything, FearDorian is definitely a relatively new, fresh rap artist to watch!

If anyone wondered how Squid could pull off their maximalist sound, the answer is hard, imaginative work. Rows of pedals taped to the ground, synth boards littered throughout, and a cage-like keyboard station tucked into a corner—blurring to keep pace with the rapid pace of their music, the band touched any and every rigged-up machine that could make noise. On one hand, these contraptions (as I have come to label them) were necessary: one hears the frenetic, fizzy, coarse introduction to “Crispy Skin” and understands that no standard five-piece could ever achieve that. The band, then, had the opportunity to truly play with their track: beginning with a warbling, sort of techno synth layer, pounding the drums and hitting percussion in an improvisational manner, Squid elongated their entrance by about a minute, building audience anticipation until kicking in with the video game-like melody of “Crispy Skin.” Afterward, the crowd broke into a roar, and the show went full throttle on blaring noise and adrenaline-rising music.

Some songs felt endless, letting the audience get lost in the textures of Squid’s music. “GSK” steered the mood into a steady groove, letting Laurie Nankivell carry the song away with the warm, buttery trumpet solo that glided against the choppy, wooden sounds of the layers of percussion. Likewise, the strange yet slightly haunting “Broadcaster” looped on for minutes, as Judge slowly paced back and forth to let the chirpy, cricket-like noises run. (The breakdown itself kept getting delayed, but once it occurred, Judge began crashing out on the drums, and all band members began playing their instruments as loudly as possible, riling the crowd up in a cathartic rage with them.) “Cowards” also gave the band a necessary pause from all the chaos of their more demanding tracks, relying on the impressionistic, swirling playing style and calm, meditative vocals to channel a more trance-like energy.

Yet in all the busyness—all the rushing about to switch from cowbell to tambourine, from one pedal to the next, from one synth setting to another, from acoustic to electric, mostly in the same minute interval of the song—there is still grace and elegance to Squid’s music. I found myself particularly moved by their live rendition of “Well Met (Fingers Through The Fence),” a song whose lyrics gently wash over the shimmering, oceanic trembles of percussion, muted brass, and harpsichord. Until that concert, I never noticed how truly delicate the song is. Nankivell took center stage with his tinny brass solo, somberly lingering over each raspy note as if he were leading a eulogy. Judge dropped the energetic theatricality of his performance so far and just sang the lyrics alongside Anton Pearson as they came. “Well Met” is a heartbreaking song. It’s not a track reveling in the grotesquerie of the mind of a serial killer, a creep, or any other kind of evil man conjured in Cowards; instead, it’s mourning the loss of unpolluted earth, once-vibrant towns, the hope for a future that isn’t stained by violence and destruction. At this moment, I forgot that this was an art punk show—that people are here, at least partly, to punch each other, yell in anger, and try to get someone else to throw them up and toss them around for a crowd surf moment. (The “Narrator” encore had at least three different attempts at a crowd surf, as well as a mosh pit with a surprising sense of consideration for personal space of the non-participants, by the way.) What I got out of this performance was simply stunning music that pounded through the ear canal and into the heart.

This is how Squid should be experienced: ear to the speaker, hands gripping to the metal bar of the barricade, and brain concentrating on all the thumps and vibrations of the dizzying music until one’s head feels like a tuning fork. Sure, thrash around, bump shoulders with a stranger, and maybe scream along in catharsis. But don’t forget to appreciate the sheer work the band puts into making their technically insane music come alive.

Words by Victoria Borlando
Photos by Bobby Nicholas lll

Ordee tickets for Squid HERE

Squid Live at the Warsaw Brooklyn NY May 23, 2025. photo by Bobby Nicholas lll