We instinctively know when we are in the presence of greatness. That familiar, if rare, feeling of awe, wonderment and ‘wow’ factor. This review could end here. Difford and Tilbrook. National treasures. End of. Job done. However theirs is a story of humble beginnings and a chequered history of highs and lows. So to see them on stage, now in their 60s, having come so far and through so much, added a palpable dimension of triumph against adversity. The crowd could neither sit still nor stay seated. Instead, countless arms stretched out towards the stage in unbridled adoration from the get go.

One exuberant fan rushed the stage on the opening note of the very first song and was given two songs’ grace, of full-body flailing, before being ushered by staff to the back of the auditorium. Suffice to say, this is a dearly-loved duo; a band whose ardent fan base have taken them fully to their hearts and whose own identities seem bound up in that fervour. Squeeze represent a stage of life for many, and, while wishing to avoid the uglier trappings of nationalism, they arguably represent a certain sort of Britishness. Like Madness. Like The Clash. Like Elgar. How appropriate then that I should bump into a friend who had brought a French exchange student to the show, new to the UK and to British live music. “Welcome to England” indeed, and how very fitting in these fractured times: warm, heartfelt songs that transcend all borders, about what it is to be human – plain and simple. This is a very timely tour.

Strikingly, the set was as much new as old, with all tracks packing a punch. All, except for one new song, that is. The nasal, Lennon-esque ‘Departure Lounge’ from latest album The Knowledge was the only discernible lull. This is still Squeeze of old though, reassuringly, and Chris Difford (lyricist to Glenn Tilbrook’s instrumentation) is mining the current political times with an honesty that, if not bitter and bellicose, still bites. New songs ‘A&E’ and ‘Rough Ride’ are cases in point here. This is still socialism in song and it still seems to resonate.

The customary Squeeze sonic vignettes are amplified on this tour by impressive, large-scale, projected visual backdrops. From old five and ten pound notes, to a trip ‘round a Monopoly board, to a jolting black and white video of an everyday 1950s wedding, these images give literal form to the songs. New meets old with these projections, as we see contemporary computer animation and references to the digital world but up against the Super 8mm film, à la old Squeeze meets new.

Gig high point goes to a rousing ‘Take Me, I’m Yours’, with double, militaristic, hand-held drums (Steve Smith and Simon Hanson) followed closely by the beatific smile of contentment on Chris Difford’s face as the crowd chanted ‘Up The Junction’ and ‘Labelled With Love’ right back at him. What a glorious addition Yolanda Charles on bass and backing vocals is too. Session bassist extraordinaire, with credits like Paul Weller & Mick Jagger to her name, she simply shone, as did Tilbrook’s frequent Hendrix-esque outbursts, nodding less than subtly at the duo’s formative loves.

“There is no tomorrow. There is only now”, shouted Chris Difford, between songs, reminding us that Squeeze were in the moment before mindfulness even became a phenomenon, crystallising human experiences – love, loss, rebirth, redemption – like flies in amber.

The ‘new Lennon & McCartney’ may seem, on the surface, like a sycophantic, far-fetched stretch, but it is an enduring accolade that this pairing richly deserves. There are no embers here, but a fire still very much in full flame. And we have petty theft and a sweet shop window to thank for it: 50 pence from Chris’ mum’s purse for the ‘Guitarist Wanted’ ad that Glenn responded to, way back when. Even that sounds like it’s straight out of a Squeeze song!

Kelly Westlake

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