by Ryk McIntyre
Is there nothing Squeeze cannot do? Is there anything less than perfect pop songs in the vast legacy of the hundreds and hundreds they’ve written? I swear, Squeeze is better for Britain than the Royal Family and many times more fun. Every once in a while the rock press accords them another “comeback,” and there’s been some talk about this very album being their most recent return, but those critics need to be dope-slapped. Squeeze has been here all along, they never left, where the hell you been?
Ridiculous is like a perfect summer night, all summer long. They are a soft-serve cone off an ice-cream truck. Squeeze is the perfect retort to some dumb bastard right when you need it. The songs come from a world where The Lovin Spoonful’s “Do You Believe In Magic?” would NEVER HAVE BEEN SOLD TO McDONALDS!!! They’re a magic act, they’re the men behind the curtain, they are the great and powerful Oz. They may even be the Walrus. Goo goo ga joob.
The good songs? Every song is a good song. “Electric Trains,” “Grouch Of The Day,” “I Want You,” and “Sound Asleep” are my favorites, but whatever Difford and Tilbrook do deserves a listen, once, and once more, maybe even once again. And then lots. Only this duo could do a song where they rhyme “playing judge and jury” with “look like Nana Mouskouri;” or effortlessly deliver what should be a classic line ’round the Lollipop offices, ” …he arrived home late/with no more blood cells to inebriate.” Pop music doesn’t get any better than this.