Review | Squid – Cowards

Label: Warp Records

By Cyrus Larcombe-Moore

Squid are the best thing to come out of Sussex since Brighton Rock. They are a band that have consistently proven to be one of the most interesting to emerge from the British post-punk scene in the last decade. Their love of krautrock has infused everything they do with off-kilter grooves, unexpected instrumentation, and moments of genuine surprise.

‘Cowards‘ is, in some way, as quintessentially Squid as it gets. It begins in a similar manner to their previous albums, ‘O Monolith‘ and ‘Bright Green Field,‘ with ‘Crispy Skin’s‘ unexpected instrumentation preceding some of the tightest grooves British rock has to offer. Yet ‘Cowards‘ is an album keen to expand its sonic potential, to forge its own path and strike new chords. 

‘Crispy Skin‘ is recognisable and a strong development of the sound we’ve come to expect from the band but we don’t stay there for long.

You feel this album’s pull towards a new sound in its second track, ‘Building 650,’ a subtle movement into orchestral territory. In doing this, Squid have opened their sound to an enormous array of possibilities, resulting in their most surprising album yet.

The quiet psychedelia at the start and end of the album’s third track, ‘Blood on the Boulders‘, crescendos in the middle like a demented ‘Narrator‘ transformed by the kosmische the band have said was a significant influence on this record.

Meanwhile, ‘Fieldworks I‘ and ‘Fieldworks II‘ push the album’s sound to its furthest extent, incorporating a large orchestral presence and vibrant array of string instruments for a sprawling kraut-folk soundscape. Sometimes I’m reminded more of contemporary classical music than post-punk – whatever post-punk even means now.

The middle third of the record ventures into such an expansive territory, even for a band as far-reaching as Squid, whilst also uncovering some of their quietest, most intimate moments. The dynamics here are exceptional: for a world of radio frequencies, the album fills the room as often as it whispers in your ear.

And then we land on ‘Cro-Magnon Man,‘ the final single released before the album dropped. With lead vocals from guitarist Louis Borlase, we’re thrown into another dimension. The warps and whips of this record seem never-ending and it’s one of the album’s most fun and jagged tracks.

After all of this, it’s in these final three tracks that ‘Cowards‘ firmly stakes its claim as Squid’s best. As always, they stick the landing and I’m left wondering what’s next, knowing I need to experience this live, and wishing it didn’t have to end.

The title track, ‘Cowards‘, drifts along with an unsettling ease, light on the surface and heavy underneath. Lyrics about cannibalism and moral failure simmer quietly beneath its airy musicality—it’s the most luscious track on the album. Then there’s ‘Showtime!,‘ a jagged, surreal piece that distils the expansive orchestral experiments of the album’s middle third into something unmistakably Squid. All the while, Andy Warhol is dragged onstage as the band deliver their first diss track.

When the final track, ‘Well Met (Fingers Through the Fence)‘, arrives, the atmosphere shifts once again. The song unfolds over several minutes of percussive and string textures—like something out of a found-sound experiment or a West German ‘Tubular Bells‘—while a slow-burn psychedelic krautrock piece takes shape. The accumulative orchestral layers make this song sound like Arcade Fire might have accidentally written mid-acid trip. It’s a track that takes its time as it goes about engulfing you.

After it all ends, you’re left suspended in its echoes, holding out for just one more song, before thankfully it loops back round––I could do this all day. ‘Cowards‘ is a vast album. It’s eccentric, pensive, and detailed—but it’s never indulgent. They’ve gone far beyond the early krautrock-inspired post-punk we know them so well for.

We’re following Squid somewhere, into territory that defies definition—somewhere only they could take us.