Some bands march to the beat of a different drummer and some bands don't march at all, they go down to the beach on a cold rainy and windy day to see what strange creatures the ocean has churned up... then they take them home to dissect and sketch them. Giant Squid is one of those bands.
Rooted in the doomy sludge of Neurosis and psychedelia of early Syd Barret era Pink Floyd, Giant Squid take things to new depths musically with the addition of cello and lyrically by drawing on marine biology for inspiration. When you're so far away from what other bands are doing, it can be difficult to maintain a stable lineup. As a result the band has had a revolving collection of players based around core members Bryan Beeson and Aaron Gregory.
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Finding a label that can see your artistic vision can be a challenge also. Giant Squid regularly self-release hand made versions of their work in limited quantities. They do what they want and let the labels come to them. Both The End and more recently Translation Loss have done just that. While I get the impression that the band is happy to have a label on board, I also think that if the labels suddenly vanished, the band would just go back to their DIY ways.
The music portrays darkness, not just any darkness either. This is darkness with gloom and fog. It's darkness with a biting wind and a chill in the air. But it's also a darkness with moments of light. Maybe not rays of sunshine, but flashes of lightning that quickly illuminate the things making the terrifying noises behind you, leaving you with Lovecraftian images burned onto your retinas to ponder and fear once the darkness consumes you.
A song like 'Tongue Stones' could have been written by The Ancient Ones themselves. 'Snakehead' might be the music they play when they revel in their deep homes after their enemies have been vanquished…and consumed.
But don't be afraid. Take the plunge and listen.