By the time Cradle to the Grave arrived, Squeeze had already been through every cliché: breakups, comebacks, solo projects, TV soundtracks, even the dreaded “are they still together?” stage. Glenn Tilbrook brushes all of that off. “We got the band back together ten years ago,” he says. “This feels connected to the past, but really it’s all about what we can do now. Things Squeeze has never been able to do before.” Translation: this isn’t a reunion lap, it’s a restart.
Tilbrook was intent on shaking the dust. “The only thing I knew I wanted was to cut the record as live as possible,” he says. “Very few overdubs—some harmonies, some backing vocals, that’s it. There’s a sense of urgency about it.” That urgency explodes in odd places, like “Rough Ride,” which begins politely and then detonates. “We worked with this choir of doctors and nurses from a reality show,” Tilbrook explains. “And then Cara, an opera singer I knew because she’s the mum of one of my son’s friends. I wanted her energy to propel the song into a different place.”
Not every twist was planned. “Albatross” showed up at the last minute. “We knew we needed a couple more songs. That one came right at the end,” he says. “Funny how that happens. You’re freer when you know you’re at the finish line.” The song, meant to be minor, turned into a standout. Tilbrook just shrugs: rock history is littered with the “last-minute classic.”
Then there’s “Innocence in Paradise,” which he described as a “psychedelic take on mortality.” Tilbrook laughs, a little self-conscious. “I’m 60 now. How did that happen? Some things don’t work as well as they used to. That’s something else to think about.” The track started as a dense piece and ended up stripped bare. “By taking things away, it gained this power it never had.” Mortality and minimalism, a combo platter.
Despite the heavy themes, Tilbrook insists the job keeps him young. “There’s a part of you that stays childlike,” he says. “The enthusiasm for what we do, I’ve never lost that. Touring’s different, sure, but the audiences now… they’ve come with us. We’re getting some of the best reactions we’ve ever had.”
Of course, there’s the central partnership: Tilbrook and Chris Difford, 45 years and counting. “That’s longer than most marriages,” he jokes. “Longer than Richard Burton and Liz Taylor combined.” Their process has shifted. “Chris is predominantly the lyricist, but since our split I’ve been writing lyrics too, so now I have input there. Musically it’s the same—we still work separately, trading things back and forth.”
Lineup changes have never dented the identity, just redirected it. “There’s no version of Squeeze that could sound like this without everyone playing their part,” Tilbrook insists. “We’ve never had a bass player like Yolanda Charles before. She brings so much, vocally and musically. I want every lineup to have its say. I love hearing what everyone adds.”
For a band with a history of perfect pop songs, Squeeze is oddly uninterested in being a museum piece. Tilbrook doesn’t mind the nostalgia—he’ll play “Tempted” and “Pulling Mussels” happily—but he doesn’t want to live there. “It’s exciting to go in different directions,” he says. “We’ve stretched out before, but this really feels like a blank slate.”
Forty-five years on, Tilbrook is still amused that people treat longevity like a miracle. “It’s not easy,” he says, “but when the songs keep coming, you don’t hang it up. You just keep playing.”
Listen to the interview above and then check out Innocence in Paradise below!
