At Squid you sometimes wonder: is this a rock show or a radio play?

Reality check. In 2025 a rock show can go as follows: playing a trumpet player and cellist together in a moody twilight and cellist together for minutes, lasting jazz duet. Like then guitar, synthesizers (on the church organ) and eventually bass and drums raid a theatrical ballad with a nasal nosing vocals, a theatrical ballad is created. But immediately afterwards a cross rock number sounds that gradually explodes in a stamping dance track in which every transition and drop is celebrated with an outrageous cheers. Nobody thinks that is crazy. Everyone mosht.

This is Tuesday evening in the Amsterdam concert hall De Melkweg at the just not sold out show of the British five Squid.

Everything is possible, nothing is wrong and false does not exist, just like on their third album Cowards. It is not an indie, (art) rock, jazz, funk, small art or dance. It’s all at the same time.

And so it goes more and more: a new generation of bands (see also: Black Country, New Road) does not care anymore of stuck conventions. For them, every performance is a colorful evening on which everything is allowed. The more theatrical and atonal, the better. Previously ‘forbidden’ instruments are pulled out of the dust, old rock ‘n’ roll taboes are broken. What once applied as not done has grown into a new standard.

Deafening fog horn

An hour and a half tingling synthesizers on the harpsichord position or buzzing as deafening fog horns. Guitarists play Arab scoop ladders who slip into your ear like winding snakes. A honking Stadsheraut winds its cheerful honking into the room without irony.

The colorful evening content is also high at Squid. The performance is one big instrumententafette. Even during songs, Laurie Nankivell gives his bass to guitarist Louis Borlase to grab his trumpet or to work on his storage with cowbells and other percussion. Keyboardist Arthur Leadbetter also plays cello and guitar. Guitarist Anton Pearson sometimes hangs above an organ.

The only stable factor is the front (or actually behind) man Ollie Judge who beats as a singing drummer and is considered the creative brain of the band from Brighton. Occasionally he stands to reinforce his texts dramatically by rubbing his hair with his sticks or piercing his hair. Only during the encore does he dare to leave his kit: while the synth-beats beched he takes his well-deserved shine for a moment. But still: singing drummers, it remains difficult.

Blinging synthesizers

Fortunately there is enough musical to experience. « Showtime! » Starts as a fairly conventional song with a somewhat transverse rhythm, but soon derails. After Judge’s uninterested love statement « You Could Be My Footnote« The rhythm suddenly stops and a choir seems to sound from tilted gameboys. When that hurricane of bleming synthesizers lies down, you end up in an epic, Jean-Michel Jarre-like trip that turns back into the crowning kraut rock. And then-just like all of the song, the song-next song-the song-next number-next song-the song-next song-next song-next song-the song-next song-next song-next song-next song-next song-next song-next song.

Sometimes you wonder: is this a rock show or a radio play? For example, if Judge in the ‘crispy skin’ crispy skin sings of cannibalism and confessively confessively confessed how easy it is to slaughter prey: « One Hit Right Between the Eyes, It’s Become So Easy To Take A Life.  » As soon as the uplifting beat stops, he chews extra slowly on his slowly drawn up atrocities: « Hit Them Once, Not Again. « 

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