"There's a certain magic, or trance-like quality, that you get from pushing repetition to the extremes," says Anton Pearson, one of two guitarists in Squid, a U.K.-based post-punk quintet that draws its power from a minimalist aesthetic. "It is definitely a big part of how we write things. We'll keep going with ideas and lose ourselves in them." So, hypnotic, repetitive guitar figures—often edging towards dissonance and played with a warm, fuzzy tone—are, naturally, a prominent feature on Bright Green Field, Squid's debut full-length release.
"When you hear repetitive music, it strikes this inner chord on a purely biological level," co-guitarist Louis Borlase adds. "For example, if you have a thought, and you hear it over and over again, you start to make sense of how you are thinking. That same thing happens with minimalism and repetition. If you can let an idea ride for long enough, you realize that it has enoughscope [to reflect] a kind of microscopic adjustment over time. That is central to the way we enjoy listening to music, but also the way we enjoy writing music."
Squid - Narrator (Official Video) ft. Martha Skye Murphy
Pearson adds, "There's the psychology of the repetitive firing of neurons, where we're constantly breathing and our heart is beating—it's a whole world to think about, which is quite fun. But, for us, I think there are loads of things we find interesting about repetition that we don't really talk about. A lot of how we write is unspoken. If something feels good, it feels good, and we don't always have a shared goal of where we want things to go. We just let them happen."
"When you hear repetitive music, it strikes this inner chord on a purely biological level."—Louis Borlase
Letting things happen—even while committed to a demanding, well-defined set of principles—has been the band's working M.O. from the outset. Squid started while the band members (who also include lead singer and drummer Ollie Judge, keyboardist Arthur Leadbetter, and bassist Laurie Nankivell) were still students in Brighton, a hip, artsy city on England's southern coast, and their first gig was a semi-regular residency at the Verdict, a local jazz club they chanced upon.
Squid are, from left to right, vocalist/drummer Ollie Judge, bassist Laurie Nankivell, keyboardist Arthur Leadbetter, and guitarists Anton Pearson and Louis Borlase.
"I was out looking for somewhere to have a drink with some friends," Pearson says. "We saw this jazz venue that we hadn't noticed before, and went in. The guy was super nice and let us watch for free. At the end, I asked if it would be possible for us to put on a show there, and he said yes. We didn't realize at the time that it was one of the most renowned jazz venues in Europe—it was in The Guardian's top five list of jazz venues in Europe—and here we were putting on a night there. We formed the band because we agreed to curate a night of music, but we didn't have any music to play, so we just wrote a set for that."
Despite getting their start in a jazz club, Squid isn't a jam band. They improvise, although they approach improvisation more like a stimulant. It's how they get the ball rolling, and a big part of how they interact as an ensemble. But extended solos aren't their thing.
TIDBIT: Squid's debut full-length was recorded in a small London studio during a heatwave, and the air conditioning was turned off for tracking. "It was so sweaty," says Louis Borlase. "If we'd done any extra takes, we would have all probably lost about two liters of water."
"Improvisation is a compositional tool," Borlase explains. "But it's also—maybe on a more implicit, subconscious level—something that is very key to how we capture music in the studio, and maybe on a live level as well. None of us has this precious attachment to our parts to say, for example, 'I want to make sure that this certain guitar line or keyboard riff is captured at exactly the two-minute mark.' Jamming is the way in which we find an inception of musical ideas. People bring in ideas—nobody ever brings a song to a Squid writing session—and we listen to what that person has brought, as opposed to thinking about what we could do over the top of it. We very much leave that up to chance, and I think that's very important."
"Anything longer than four seconds is a bit like, 'What's this guy doing?'" says Pearson. "We have an understanding that you should never be attached to ideas, because what's the point? If you bring something small in, let that be an impetus for a process rather than a means to an end. Part of how we get to finished tracks is that someone brings in something small, it changes completely, and we realize that the thing that was brought in originally doesn't work, so we take it out. What's left are the beginnings of something new."
Anton Pearson's Gear
Anton Pearson explains that Squid's compositions evolve from musical micro-ideas brought in by various bandmembers. "Anything longer than four seconds is a bit like, 'What's this guy doing?'" he says.
Photo by Piran Aston
Guitars
- Fender Duo Sonic
- Mexico-made Fender Telecaster
Amps
- Fender Vibrolux
- 1967 Selmer Treble-N-Bass (on loan from a friend)
Strings and Picks
- D'Addario XT (.010–.046)
- D'Addario Duralin .85 mm
Effects
Boss DD-3 Digital Delay
Electro-Harmonix Canyon
TC Electronic Hall of Fame Reverb
EarthQuaker Devices Avalanche Run
Muzizy Fuzz
DigiTech Whammy
Dunlop Cry Baby
Electro-Harmonix Superego Synth Engine
Dwarfcraft Devices Wizard of Pitch
JHS Tidewater Tremolo
Boss TU-3 Chromatic Tuner
The band members were friends first—the band came later—and that energy is an important part of the group's dynamic and compositional process, too. "Our music is a total reflection of the way we interact on a purely hanging-out level," Borlase says. "When you hang out with your friends that you respect, and you're having a conversation or debate, you listen to each other and let that thought play out before you put your thought into the conversation. That transfer from conversation to music is key."
Not that informal, friendly, musical conversations were possible once the pandemic and subsequent lockdowns canceled a year's worth of gigs. That also impacted the types of songs Squid wrote. "We were ready to hit the road, but then, suddenly, we were left with these embryonic pieces of music that were just starting to take form," Borlase says. "Usually when we write music, we tune in to how the audience responds.
"I don't think any other instrument can keep me on my feet as much as a guitar, for better or for worse." —Louis Borlase
Seeing people dancing at certain sections, or looking focused at other sections—that naturally feeds back to us for how we choose to make certain musical moments within a track stand out. We didn't have that, so we sent ideas to each other via the internet. There are certain examples where you can feel there's an idea that snowballed and gets out of control. Take a song like 'Narrator.' [The intense, emotionally grinding, rhythm-shifting first single from Bright Green Field.] In a parallel universe, we'd run the risk of it being less of a mind fuck than it actually is. It starts with an idea and it ends up a million miles away. It is a microcosm of that idea of starting with a thought and allowing that thought to take over your mind, and you end up somewhere else in a completely different state of being. But that piece of music would have been so different if we hadn't been faced with this pandemic. We played it very rarely because there was rarely a gig where we could play it in front of people."
Louis Borlase's Gear
"Improvisation is a compositional tool," explains Louis Borlase. "But it's also—maybe on a more implicit, subconscious level—something that is very key to how we capture music in the studio, and maybe on a live level as well."
Photo by Piran Aston
Guitars
- Burns Marquee
- Fender Jazzmaster
Amp
- Fender Twin Reverb
Strings and Picks
- D'Addario XT (.011–.056)
- D'Addario Duralin .85 mm
Effects
- MXR Carbon Copy
- Line 6 DL4 Delay Modeler
- Boss Blues Driver
- Alexander Pedals Syntax Error
- TC Electronic Sub 'N' Up Mini
Bright Green Field was made with award-winning producer Dan Carey at his one-room studio in South London, where his console and outboard gear share the same space as the bands he records. His production style—immersive and focused on live takes—was key to capturing Squid's loose, improvisatory energy.
"It was the middle of the summer, and it was boiling hot," Borlase says about cutting "Narrator." "The track that you've heard is the second take. There was never any need for a third or fourth take, because so much of it is based around improvisation. We never play it the same way twice. I guess the reason that second take of 'Narrator' felt so good is that, early on, you capture that nervous energy. It was so sweaty. If we'd done any extra takes, we would have all probably lost about two liters of water."
Live, Squid play with the same intensity and precision as exhibited by minimalist punk progenitors Wire—another two-guitar band noted for their carefully knit interplay.
Photo by Piran Aston
As a guitar band, Squid's approach to the instrument doesn't have much to do with the glory days of tight pants and arenas—or even '90s-era flannel and grunge. "There is a whole history you're engaging with when you touch the guitar," Pearson says. "And we're still interested in that history. We're interested in finding ways of making new stories. They say the electric guitar is so successful because it is that perfect marriage of technology and a gestural nature you get from acoustic instruments. You can go as far as you want in terms of electronic technology with it—right up to plugging it into a computer—but at the same time, you still have the gestural nature, that kind of visceral nature that you get when you see someone play it live. I studied West African music at university, and for a lot of communities, like in Mali and Niger, it is still such an important symbol—not just for music, but also resistance. It is still an interesting tool and it still has relevance, but it is important to keep thinking of ways to innovate and change people's perceptions of it, and I think we're trying to do that a bit."
Innovation, at least according to Borlase, may also just be the nature of the beast. "The guitar is as much a cultural object as it is a musical object, and that still hasn't faded away," he says. "Guitar is something that you feel you're saying something with, regardless of what notes you're playing. The guitar is a confusing thing, unless you're super high-tech and everything makes sense in your head. It's this thing that allows you to have a voice and be able to always aspire to those people who came before you. For us, there are a lot of bands before us that have not only played guitar, they have also challenged their own ways of thinking. If you continually confuse yourself, not to mention if you knock into something mid-song and realize, 'Why does this sound so bizarre?' I do that all the time—plus juggling three or four tunings and then using a capo. I don't think any other instrument can keep me on my feet as much as a guitar, for better or for worse."
Squid - The Dial | Stolen Sessions
On the good foot, Squid deliver their 2018 single "The Dial" at the Windmill, a pub in London's Brixton district known for championing cutting-edge music. Note the band's absolute polyphonic devotion to the groove.
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Lloyd Baggs made his first acoustic guitar when he was a fine-art lithographer and soon found himself building instruments for Ry Cooder, Jackson Brown, Janis Ian, and other stars. Today he is an innovator in acoustic guitar pickup design.
If you have made your first few guitars but somehow they didn’t sound like pre-war D-28s, you may have a few questions about why and how to get closer. If you’re brave enough to continue and are committed to bridging the gap from just being able to assemble a guitar to knowing how to build great-sounding instruments predictably and consistently, you’ve just entered The Twilight Zone.
When I started building acoustics in the 1970s, there was no literature on how they work—let alone how to manipulate tone. Luckily, there was a wealth of information on this in violin-making literature. There were discussions about how mass and stiffness interact, top and back tuning, air resonances, standing waves, etc. Pioneers discovered that a top does not move in and out at once like a perfect speaker, but, as the frequencies get higher, it keeps dividing into smaller and smaller vibrating parts, like a bunch of mini speakers. Each of these mini speakers has a place where it’ll be the loudest, called a resonant frequency. (More recently, laser interferometry has been used to reveal or “freeze” body vibration patterns to see how the various resonances in the body behave and at what frequencies.)
Thinking that some science would be a shortcut to becoming a better builder, I crudely adapted some of the violin makers’ tests. My “laser” was a cheap guitar speaker, power amp, and frequency sweeper. Sprinkling some salt or pepper on the top or back of a guitar and playing a loud frequency sweep into the nearby speaker would excite the wood, and the salt would dance around until, at some frequency, it would congeal into a shape to reveal the vibrating patterns of its resonant frequency. It was like having X-ray glasses—to observe the resonances and see the effects of shaving braces, adding or subtracting some mass, thinning the top here or there. Once one could see under the hood, a luthier could then deliberately alter some part, move a brace, or make some other change to alter or move some resonance.
This 1937 Martin D-18 is an example of steel-string perfection for many acoustic guitar aficionados.
“From the loudspeaker standpoint, the guitar is a lousy speaker because not only does the top move, but the back, sides, and neck are moving with every note, too.”
The Glittering Present
Fortunately for aspiring luthiers today, we are living in a golden age. There is a wealth of information available about every aspect of building and more tools to study vibration in apps for our phones than what was available collectively back in the day. There are also a number of individuals who have more deeply studied the physics of the acoustic guitar and have made immense strides to quantify material characteristics and predict acoustic behavior. Bryan Galloup, Giuliano Nicoletti, Andy Powers, Richard Hoover, and Tom Bedell come to mind as builders who have embraced science to enhance predictable outcomes. Giuliano has published an excellent book called Mastering the Sound of the Acoustic Guitar. There are also a number of excellent lutherie schools that use and teach students the scientific methods.
So, on a deeper and eye-watering level, how does the acoustic guitar actually work? If you think of an acoustic guitar like a loudspeaker, the sides and the back are the box, and the top is the speaker. The strings, connected to the top via a saddle and a bridge, are the energy source. The best loudspeaker manufacturers go to extreme lengths to be sure the box is rigid, with minimal vibration, and that only the speaker cone moves. The guitar is a lousy speaker because not only does the top move, but the back, sides, and neck are moving with every note, too. Every piece has multiple resonances that interact with each other. The way these resonances interact is a big factor in how the guitar sounds.
Unlike a typical 3-way speaker, where each individual speaker acts as a perfect piston to cover a range of sound, a guitar top converts energy into sound at all frequencies and only behaves as a pure piston or “good speaker” in the lower frequencies. Above those low frequencies where the top moves in and out as one, called the primary resonance or piston mode, the vibration of the top is chaos orchestrated largely by the position, stiffness, size, and weight of the bracing plus the mass, stiffness, and curvature of the top. About an octave above the primary resonance, roughly half the top will actually be going up while half of the top will be going down simultaneously. Then, moving up still further in frequency, one third of the top may be going up and down while the other two thirds are moving down and up. As the frequencies get higher, smaller and smaller pieces of the top move simultaneously and sometimes in opposition to each other.
It would be helpful to think of the guitar top as a string where only the fundamental moves the entire string as one piece. After that, the string divides into higher and higher frequencies. In a guitar, the top divides into smaller and smaller “mini speakers” as the frequencies get higher. The big difference between a guitar top and a string vibration is that strings divide evenly into resonant modes or harmonics in halves, quarters, eighths, and so on, while the places where the guitar top divides into individual resonances are seemingly random. The places where these resonances occur are often where the string energy will be translated into the loudest acoustic output. Most of the resonances are active at the same time, influencing and interacting with each other and determining what of the strings’ energy pool will be heard. The most important concept to understand is that the available string energy is lost or absorbed by the structure in ways largely determined by the resonances. The way string energy is lost into the structure of the guitar and converted or traded for acoustic energy is largely responsible for why a particular guitar sounds like it does.
“Add to this the wide variations in strength, mass, and tonal characteristics of various woods and how the neck is attached (yes, even the neck has its own resonances), and the acoustic guitar is a crazy complex soup of interacting parts.”
Baggs built this eye-catching acoustic for Ry Cooder, a demanding expert on tone, in 1977. He built another for the artist two years later.`
With his book, Mastering the Sound of the Acoustic Guitar, Giuliano Nicoletti has created a manual for organic lutherie that applies scientific principles to building steel- and nylon-string acoustic guitars.
Aim Low?
For a great-sounding guitar, the first trick is to make the top flexible enough so that its primary resonance is low enough to absorb enough string energy at low frequencies for a rich, warm response, while not exploding under string pressure. And, while you’re at it, to deliberately tune the remaining resonances so they work together in some sort of harmony. If you think of the guitar’s resonances as notes in a chord, a major third will sound warmer and more pleasing than a minor seventh with an augmented ninth. The top bracing in conjunction with the top radius, thickness, mass, and stiffness will determine the frequencies and character of the multiple resonant modes. If you’ve ever heard of a luthier “tuning the top” or “tap tuning,” this is what’s going on here.
Add to this the wide variations in strength, mass, and tonal characteristics of various woods and how the neck is attached (yes, even the neck has its own resonances), and the acoustic guitar is a crazy complex soup of interacting parts. But then, with a little shave here, a slight readjustment of bracing position there, a change in the bridge height, reduction or addition of some mass, some adjustment of top thickness here or there, altering the doming radius of the top or back, and hundreds of other variables, the modes can be adjusted in frequencies so the major resonances will work together in greater harmony and the tone of the guitar will be pleasing. Sounds easy enough, right?
It’s common knowledge that a larger guitar will usually have better low frequencies, but what the heck is the air inside the box and soundhole doing? If you blow sideways across the soundhole, you’ll hear what’s called the pop-bottle or air resonance of the guitar. Air is springy, and as the top vibrates up and down, “plugs” of air are forced in and out of that hole at the air resonance frequency, which then reinforces the lower frequencies. The size of the hole can also influence where this resonance occurs. In practice, the air resonance of a typical guitar is about an octave lower than its top resonance.
L.R. Baggs’ popular Element pickup system is centered on an undersaddle transducer designed to follow the movement of a guitar’s top.
And just what does the back do? Besides enclosing the box and playing along with the top, a major structural purpose of the back is to hold the neck from collapsing into the top. Because of this function, backs tend to be stiffer than tops and resonate at higher frequencies. Of course, the back also has multiple resonances that interact with those of the top. How exactly is still a mystery to me, but for sure the back plays a big role in the sound of the guitar.
One question I hear a lot is, “How does the saddle affect tone?” In the whole scheme of things, not too much, really, but it is important. All materials act as a filter to pass certain frequencies and block others, so the material choice of the saddle will color a guitar’s tone. Bone has generally garnered the most affection as a saddle material as it seems to transmit harmonics well while not being screechy, providing a nice, full-balanced tone. Many have, with moderate success, attempted to duplicate its qualities in synthetic material.
How does all of this influence pickup design? Amplification is just that, and one hopes that what comes out of the speaker faithfully resembles the guitar, but only louder. Going back to the X-ray glasses, an intimate knowledge of how the guitar works has certainly been very helpful to recognize and capitalize on the unobvious modal stuff in the vibration of the instrument to create more faithful pickup systems.
Finally, I get a lot of questions about pickup choice. The best pickup largely depends on what sort of music you play, where you play, and how loud it is. For instance, a studio miked sound would not be appropriate for a loud heavy metal band as the guitar would be lost. What works on a loud electric-guitar-oriented stage would be an unfortunate choice for a singer-songwriter or a bluegrass musician. And while there are lots of great choices nowadays, there is still no such thing as a perfect pickup. Ultimately, you are always going to sound like you.
Guest picker Ally Venable
Ally Venable - Guest Picker
By FifthLegend from Eagan, Minnesota, United States of America - Thundercat, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=70617212
A: For my late-night show's house band, I’ve assembled a dream team. This ensemble inspires me with their unparalleled musical talents and diverse backgrounds. Chris Layton’s drumming is unmatched and he will provide a solid foundation. I’ll have Jon Batiste on keys. His creativity and energy is boundless. Eric Gales would be on guitar. I love how emotive his music is, and I strive for that type of connection within my playing as well. Finally, I’d have Thundercat on bass. His playing is infused with jazz and funk sensibilities that would tie the whole sound together in an interesting way.
Obsession: My current obsession is shifting my approach to playing—focusing on connection over applause. Instead of chasing technical perfection or crowd reactions, I’m leaning into the emotional and spiritual side of music. It’s about creating moments that resonate deeply, whether it’s with myself, my bandmates, or the audience.
David Saenger - Reader of the Month
A: I love the idea of supergroups and how each of the players would interact. On guitars I would have Nuno Bettencourt (Extreme) and Isaiah Sharkey. My drum and bass combo would be Stewart Copeland (The Police) and Mohini Dey. On keys and sax, I would have Herbie Hancock and Joshua Redman. My male and female vocalists would be Corey Glover (Living Colour) and Liv Warfield (Prince). All of these players are fantastic improvisers and really know how to put on an entertaining show in any genre.
Bassist Victor Wooten
Obsession: My current obsession has been bass. My 12-year-old daughter started playing electric and upright bass about two years ago, and it’s been a blast working with her. I’ve been really focusing on having a solid pocket, and it’s forced me to get better at reading bass clef. I’m taking her to see Victor Wooten next week. Can’t wait!
Jason Shadrick - Managing Editor
Jason Shadrick on the SNL stage.
A: The natural move would be to go for a high-energy party band decked out with multiple keyboards, horns, and vocalists. I’d go a different route. I’d go for a more rootsy vibe with Blake Mills leading a band consisting of Jay Bellerose on drums, esperanza spalding on bass, Bob Reynolds on saxophones, and a rotating guest each week. They could cover lo-fi Americana, funky open-tuned blues, and so much more.
Obsession: This month is slightly less obsession and more reflection as this will be my last issue as Managing Editor for PG. Over the last 15 years I’ve worked on 182 issues, which is kinda mind-boggling. I’ve been lucky enough to do some incredible things during my time at PG, including walking through the host door at SNL and spending a few minutes with Brian May. Never could have imagined it. I am very grateful.
Nick Millevoi - Senior Editor
A: I’ve long said that joining one of the late night bands would probably be my absolute top dream gig. So, if I were choosing my own late-night band, from any era, I would go no further than getting a chance to sit with Paul Schaffer and the World’s Most Dangerous Band or G.E. Smith-era Saturday Night Live Band.
Obsession: The late guitarist Jef Lee Johnson, who spent time in Schaffer’s band, had a heavy resume that included stars of all genres from Billy Joel to the Roots to McCoy Tyner. I got to see him play some low-key gigs around Philly, and each rearranged my molecules. It’s only now, years after his 2013 death, that I’ve become obsessed with his discography. Though much of his work was as a high-level sideman, his albums show the broad range of this masterful guitarist, whose tone, feel, and phrasing conveyed the instrument’s deepest emotional capabilities.
