Get your kicks.

Another nice clip from Vanilla.

Vanilla Squid.

The Squid invaded WAG Town, at a swanky (without the s) venue in Fitzrovia - Vanilla.

We were on after 'Special Guests' who were a tough act to follow. But follow we did...

Here's the full set, with all* the MC Potter you could ever wish for. And as a special bonus, for these first two songs the bass amp was mercifully switched off.

*far more of

Friday, we're in love. Sadly, it was Thursday.

No haters here.

This is a mash up and a half. Followed by going Gaga and Little Jeremy Garner observing the Sabbath.

Kate Bush would be turning in her grave. She's not dead yet, but this might just finish her off.

No Stairway. Literally.

Other versions are available. Just up the road in Ally Pally as it turns out.

Fuelled for Satan.

Our rawk is powered by McDonalllllllllllllllld's Wa.

I see you're wearin' a suit...

No vids from this one. Well, not that you can find anyway as we're working on few surprises for the next set...

No rest on the Sabbath.

Some might say it's not just a woman who couldn't help him with his mind.

Squids of the Stone Age.

Two more tracks, murdered, mutilated and defiled in front of your stinking faces. Oh yes.



They'll want to hit us all right...

We've got the cure.

And we're back, back, back as a five piece. Two new Daddies and one new song, leaving Robert Smith emotionally ska'd.

I'm a Belieber.

Fun in the sun.

Couple more photos and a vid of our soundcheck in Cannes. A soundcheck which merited a rapturous reception. If by rapturous, we mean silent.

Cannes do.

This week saw our much vaunted one date European tour of the Cannes Lions Festival 2011. Sadly, James had to stay back in the UK, but we still found a way to take him with us. We played on the beach front and partied until half five in the morning. There are a couple of snaps and snippets below and a load more pics on the new Squid Facebook page.

Kicking Pigeons.

Last chance to get a rehearsal in before next week's Cannes gig. So naturally, we completely rearrange a song just to make it a bit trickier for ourselves. GJ!

Fewer tentacles.

With Rich in Barthelona and Pais awaiting the stork, it was a somewhat depleted Squid that hit the rehearsal rooms last night. Undeterred, the power trio chugged through a cover of The Young Rascals' 'Come On Up'.

The flix is in.

Compilation of the 2011 Battle of the Bands.

Pre-eminence of Squid.

Once more unto the 229. This time, we had fire in our bellies. And by fire, I mean Red Stripe, red wine and Jack Daniel's which the hosts graciously provided as a rider. Our performance seemed to strike the right chord with the audience which, admittedly, was the only right chord we struck all night. But that aside, it seems our filth and fury was enough to take the night, the trophy and the slot at Cannes. Allegedly. Checka checka the photos, the video and the review.

Blow by blow.

Here's the whole set, from start to finish.

The Battle of Great Portland Street.

Gig three was an advertising industry Battle of the Bands.

The usual suspects assembled outside the venue.

Preparations were made and messages of support were gratefully received.

Some preparations took slightly longer than others...

There are nearly twenty years between these two snaps.

This picture pretty much sums up the band. These two people do not look like they belong in the same group. Unless, of course it's a group that has both Metallica and Kate Bush in the setlist.

We took to the stage after a startlingly polished indie band.

And full marks to Rich for putting in such an energetic performance considering he arrived at the gig on crutches.

By our final song, the crowd were seeing red. From the drummer's waist up.

Though we were rather surprised to be cajoled into an encore by the audience. So surprised, we hadn't actually rehearsed anything for such an eventuality and had to lurch our way through Teenage Kicks as best we could.

You can read a review of our performance here. Then judge for yourself with this hilariously out of sync video montage.



And here are a few films shot by the crowd.

Cry havoc...

They call it a battle. We call it war.

Preparing for Battle.

Apparently, we'll be playing in an industry Battle of the Bands next week. We don't have a lot of time to get ready for it, so what's the easiest way to prepare? Why, learn a new song of course...

First we run with the Wolf.



Then we blast through a 23 minute set, leaving carnage in our wake.

Ooh, let me have it.

Last week saw us back in the rehearsal room and back to the seventies, trying to chop our way through some tough Bush.

Awwight at the back?

A few more snippets taken from just in front of the mixing desk.

Tall stories.

Herey be some side action from Potter and Pais. Top tip - those funny portrait iPhone videos are best hosted at Flickr (where you can still play them on an iPhone) and Vimeo. Rather than YouTube, that turns them into a small postage stamp in the middle of a big black oblong. Aaaaaaaaaanyhoo...

If you want blood...

The whole ball of earwax.

Here's every song we played on the night.

Break for the Borderline.

In years to come, thousands will claim they were at The Bordeline on the night of the Thursday the 17th of February, 2011. But only the lucky 275 will truly know what it was like to witness the ecstasy, the agony, the sheer inflatibility that came to pass when Provenance of Squid stormed the stage in Soho.
















Of course it's all in the preparation. This time, Rich is not looking at the gear like it's growing out of the ground. He's just plain not looking at it.



















Potter adorned the front of house.



















Jezza bedecked the back ramparts. That might be a euphemism.



















The doors hadn't even opened and we were blowing it already.















Pais's Jaguar was the first casualty of the evening. Mind, even playing it in this state would probably have been more in tune than the inaugural strum on its replacement...



















The backstage hospitality area had everything you could ever want from a service corridor.



















It wasn't just people at the front in discomfort after we came on.



















The stage was set.















The set was staged.

And it was time to go bananas.

It all went by in a blur.















The Pais was blistering.



















And during the grand finale, a dirty ringer invaded the stage. Tone Def stepped up and a new bass God was born.



















We were all smiles. But how was it received by the audience...?















Judge for yourself, with these stupefying clippingtons:

2 minutes to midnight.

So, then. The very final practice before this Thursday's gig at the Borderline. There was blood on the drums and flob on the ceiling.

Here's one quick video, just for levels.

And here's a super sneak preview of the treats in store...