Mass Burial: Giant Squid, Metridium Fields

Metridium Fields is the first full length record from the outstanding Giant Squid, and it is an absolute titan of an album. This album has an interesting and somewhat tragic history, having been the band’s debut prior to Monster in the Creek, but then being rerecorded and rereleased after that EP. I’m not going to get into the bizarre story here, but I suppose if you’re interested in a band that wasn’t going to let life get in the way of them releasing their vision, it’s worth looking into.

The record is eight total tracks, with one being a sub-one minute interlude (“Eating Machine”), one being an eerie intro piece (“Megaptera in the Delta”) , and six pretty lengthy masterworks. I kind of don’t want to just go track to track, because I feel that wouldn’t be very interesting to read; but if there was an album that really warranted that type of scrutiny, it would certainly be this one. So, let’s do it, I guess. I have already realized that this is going to be the album that I will gush about most over the course of this Mass Burial, so I might as well not try to restrain myself when I know it is futile.

“Megaptera in the Delta” is a bubbling, churning wordless introduction, and it sets the tone for the album expertly. The band will continue to draw much inspiration from aquatic life and the movie Jaws, and the intro track leaves an impression of the sound of being submerged in water, and presents a sense of the claustrophobia that accompanies it. First actual song “Neonate” is a chugging, six and a half minute jam that is likely the best single encapsulation of the band’s sound on this album, as it rocks out with a great riff, and a pretty intense vocal performance by Aaron Gregory which shows off pretty much all of his modes. Keyboards in the background strike some real high tones, which causes a true sense of anticipation in the listener. Not anticipation like, “Oh man, something is about to happen,” but a sense of alert, a feeling of heightened awareness being needed. It is a song about newborn, or neonate, sharks, and the ferocity of the natural world wherein sometimes, parents eat their young. Thus, this feeling of anticipation seems pretty fitting. No matter how many times I’ve heard it, the line “your mothers’ toothy smile can smell you for miles” always gives me a second of pause. There is a real artistry to the lyrics in a song like this, where given the subject matter they could have gone for the more gruesome literal approach of the savagery of nature and the animal world, but instead opts for the absolutely chilling cleaner and more abstractly poetic variation. To say the band is working a theme for this album is kind of an understatement, as the records’ cover is a painted entitled “Watson and the Shark,” which depicts a rescue attempt for a boy who was attacked by a shark.

“Versus the Siren” begins, at least, as a bit of a poppier, less dangerous tune, and is probably the one track on the album that is the upbeat, ‘happy’ one. It is, rather simply put, a siren song story, complete with the siren-esque vocals of Aurielle Gregory providing that same kind of ethereal quality that they did on Monster in the Creek. Frankly, this is the single weak track on the record, and it’s not even bad. It just isn’t the rest of the album. A pretty lively keyboard breakdown in the middle of the nine and a half minute song seems to be the only part of it that really sticks in my head. But, for a nine and a half minute song that is what I’d consider to be the weakest on the album, “Versus the Siren” is not bad or even boring: it just isn’t everything else. It’s not skip-worthy, but it just isn’t very memorable in my opinion.

“Ampullae of Lorenzini” gets things back on the track established by “Neonate,” while slowing things down and establishing more of a laid back atmosphere. The vocals are quieter and slower, accompanied by a simplified, moody drum and bass interplay for nearly the opening minute before the guitar comes along and adds a feeling of sonic urgency. The song leads up to “Summit,” which arguably is the best track on the record, which continues the moodiness and weight of the album. “Summit” has a terrific build up from subdued, whispy beginnings to full on, forceful delivery, creating a real emotional center for the album as a whole. Very subdued, hushed instrumentation leads in to the actual song, which once it picks up both volume and speed from its haunting beginnings presents perhaps the most complete
Giant Squid experience thus far in their career.

Segue “Eating Machine” presents Matt Hooper’s excellent description of sharks from the classic Jaws, slowed down and accompanied by some eerie effects underneath it. This serves mostly as a harbinger of things to come further down the line for the band, particularly in their second form as Squalus, and officially announces their infatuation not only with aquatic life, but the movie Jaws specifically. But there will be plenty on this later in this exercise.

Following “Revolution in the Water” is the mammoth title track, “Metridium Field,” an all-around whopper. Clocking in at 21 minutes, the song reflects all the things about this album that make it great. There is the quiet, spooky intro minutes, sounding like a voice mail or similar both in quality and content. There is the building, emotional riffs and keyboards, as well as some more saxophone, an instrument the band employs on occasion to generally solid and surprising effect. The keyboards hit maximum psychedelia towards the later third of the song, as well. In general, “Metridium Field” is a song that sounds like it is being played back at half the speed it was recorded in. It is a slow, plodding affair, but it sounds almost like it is slow through some type of manipulation rather than just being performed that way. It is an experience, and one that truly needs to be experienced.

This is an album that I would put in my personal Top Ten All Time list without even hesitating. Many, many years ago, perusing the selection at my then-favorite and local record store, I would often find music of interest based solely on the cover art, or an interesting band name would cause me to pull a CD out of the stacks and mull it over. Both were the case for this album. The name interested me, as I am a lover of the long thought to be fictional animal. A sticker on the shrink wrap claimed that if I were a fan of Mastodon’s album Leviathan, which I was, then I would enjoy Metridium Field. So I picked the album up based solely on this skeletal recommendation and have never looked back. You know how sometimes, you check something out on a whim, and it may be bad; it may be not bad, but not real great; it may be ok. Rarely do we do something like that and end up with a mind-blowing experience as was had the day I found this album. A time after I’d first experienced it, I had a new CD player installed in my car, and the installation was problematic. Apparently, they’d tightened something too much, and as a result, the CD would not eject; something to do with a squeeze on the frame of the stereo unit, constricting the already small slot that CDs came and left by. I learned this because I was trying to eject Metridium Field from said stereo but it would not eject. Being the panicky guy I am, my drive to the installation place was filled with thoughts of “What if the stereo is broken, and I’ll basically be stuck with this CD for every drive for as long as I own this car?” As the tech said they’d look at the stereo to see if they could ascertain the problem, my mind settled down a little: if there was only one album I would have in my car from the rest of time, and if that album were Metridium Field, that would be ok. Shortly, a new terror filled my mind: what about when I wanted to listen to the album at home, but couldn’t because it was trapped in my car? I figured I’d just buy a second copy, and I never thought that was weird or excessive.

This is a terrific album, and one that went under the radar for so many people. Giant Squid is a hard band to classify or pigeon hole, so marketing has never been in their favor. Often labeled a Doom metal band, or a Sludge band, or a Progressive metal band, which is probably the closest in accuracy, far more so than Monster in the Creek Metridium Field encompasses all those genre tags, yet manages to transcend them all. This is a record that deserves to be heard by a much, much wider audience than it has.