British post-punk band Squid’s third album brings together all facets of their sound into probably the darkest lyrical album of the year so far.
Inspired by dystopian science fiction and the band’s travels, the nine songs showcase an array of unsavory characters and places, with singer/drummer Ollie Judge acting as a sort of narrator through it all. From the serial killer in “Building 650” to the cannibal in “Crispy Skin” to the religious vengeance killer in “Fieldworks I” and “II,” these are not people you’d want to interact with, but they do make for compelling characters.
Judge is particularly cutting in his impressions of the United States: “All the houses in this country are built like shit / Drywall, well, I could put my fist through it if I wanted to / That Californian sun on my face, all those drugs they fogged her brain … No thought for wildlife.” Evidently, we did not make a good first impression. The track (“Blood On The Boulders”) starts as a slow crawl but builds into an itchy post-punk serial killer-like track that Sonic Youth would be proud of.
To Squid’s credit, the off-kilter music is a great backdrop to the songs; to their detriment, it’s often a bit too abrasive, jarring and haphazard to be memorable. “Cro-Magnon Man” builds up a decent head of steam, the bass and Judge’s falsetto the driving factors in setting the twitchy psychedelia of the track. It, the second half of “Showtime!” and “Building 650” are probably the best tracks musically, though the title track aims for a sort of twisted, fallen grandeur, employing mournful horns and a bit of hope for “us dogs and rats:” “Don't ever say you’re bored ’cause there’s always something more / When we put the pellets down and we walk around the town.”
Cowards then gives you the feeling of watching a serial killer documentary; you don’t really want to watch it, but somehow can’t tear yourself away from it when you do. It’s definitely a different approach for Squid and an ominous, loose, nightmare fuel of an album.