Squid - O Monolith (LP)

In June 2023, Squid stepped into stranger light with O Monolith, their second album for Warp Records and a bold swerve from the city-scorched rush of Bright Green Field. It is an album made with longtime collaborator Dan Carey at Real World Studios in Wiltshire, and you can hear the room. Air around the drums. The push and pull of five players who know exactly when to leave a phrase hanging. Ollie Judge still barks and darts from behind the kit, but the band leans harder into texture and mood, letting songs uncoil rather than attack.

The opener, Swing (In a Dream), sets the tone. Judge has said the lyric came from a dream about being inside Fragonard’s The Swing, and the music mirrors that surreal tilt. Guitars flicker like sun through leaves while synths wobble at the edges. It feels playful until the floor gives way and you realize how carefully the band arranges tension. Squid were always great at momentum. Here they are better at space.

Undergrowth arrives with a twitch. The song grew from a quirky concept about a sentient bedside table and the anxiety of clutter, but what sticks is how the group turns that oddity into something vivid. Arthur Leadbetter’s keys and percussion ping like stray thoughts, and Louis Borlase and Anton Pearson etch thin, nagging guitar lines that won’t let you settle. Then Laurie Nankivell sneaks in with low brass colors, a reminder that this band treats arrangements as drama, not garnish.

The Blades is the centerpiece and the slowest burn. Nine minutes that never rush. It starts with a hush, Judge nearly conversational, and builds to a knotted finale that feels earned rather than explosive. Squid have been compared to a lot of post punk peers, but this track points to a different lineage. Patience, polyrhythm, and a fondness for odd corners that nods to progressive rock and experimental pop without ever losing the band’s scrappy bite.

O Monolith is dotted with place and myth. Devil’s Den borrows its name from the Neolithic burial chamber not far from Real World Studios, and the song carries that damp, ancient weight. Siphon Song turns inward, its processed vocals and pulsing electronics giving the record a queasy, late night heartbeat. After the Flash feels almost pastoral at first, then curdles into dread. You can sense the band writing as listeners, chasing atmosphere as much as riffs.

Critics heard the leap. The Guardian praised its adventurous streak, and NME called out the band’s expanding palette. The record landed strong across major outlets and on aggregator sites, which tracks with how it plays at home. The hooks are there, but the real pleasure is in the corners. Little percussive clacks tucked under a chorus. A synth tone that enters for ten seconds and changes the weather. It rewards repeat listens.

All of that comes alive on wax. Real World’s depth and Carey’s ear translate beautifully to O Monolith vinyl. The toms feel round and physical. Low brass blooms instead of blaring. Quiet passages sit on a black background, then the band surges and the image widens without smear. If you are crate digging for Squid vinyl, this is the one that explains the band to your speakers. It pairs well with their debut too, so anyone looking to buy Squid records online or to round out a shelf of Squid albums on vinyl should put this near the top. Even if you are browsing vinyl records Australia wide or walking into a Melbourne record store, it is the sort of sleeve you pull once and end up taking to the counter.

What makes O Monolith stick is the balance between head and gut. Squid still love a knotty rhythm and a sly lyric, but they trust patience in a new way. You can hear five musicians who spent time on the road, then decamped to a studio built for resonance, and wrote with the room. That kind of growth is not flashy. It is felt in the way a chorus lands or how a quiet bridge refuses to blink. A year on, the album already reads like a keeper, the sort of record you recommend to a friend who thought the band was all angles and bark. Tell them it is stranger, softer, and better for it. Then point them to O Monolith on vinyl and let the room do the talking.