The most memorable songs always have some sort of uniqueness stamped
onto them. And in most cases, this uniqueness has to do with the
personality of the songwriter. But what distinguished the music of
Squeeze had much more to do with quality than personality. As their
recently released Greatest Hits collection attests, their
finest singles were Beatle-esque nuggets that told stories and
sketched characters. Indeed, songwriters Chris Difford and Glenn
Tilbrook always seemed more interested in the people in their songs
than in themselves; as a result, their more personal songs tended to
sound crafted rather than inspired. For this reason, the prospect of
a Glenn Tilbrook solo album could seem less than exciting.
Though it invariably makes use of some tried and true Squeeze
formulas, The Incomplete Glenn Tilbrook, released on
Tilbrook's own Quixotic London label last May, mainly serves as a
showcase for Tilbrook's somewhat tepid personality. But surprisingly,
he reveals enough of himself in the form of whimsical lyrics
and blue-eyed singing to almost pull it off. Tilbrook's
typically deft songwriting distinguishes at least six of the album's
12 songs, and the rest, apart from some ill-conceived electronic
noodling, never dip below the ho-hum standards set by the past few
Squeeze albums. Most surprising however, the record contains one
left-field masterpiece, an acoustic demo of "One Dark Moment."
Tilbrook's vision is singular, but never insular. Two of the album's
best songs are collaborations: "Observatory," written with Aimee
Mann, and "You See Me," written with Ron Sexsmith. By himself,
though, he does fine. "This Is Where You Ain't" and "Parallel World,"
two bouncy R & B-tinged pop-rockers, detail Tilbrook's latest
romantic foibles and sound like the best Squeeze songs in years. But
the real highlight is an alternate version of the dirge "One Dark
Moment." It is not only the record's sole dark moment, it is the most
bleak track Tilbrook has ever recorded, a startling confession of
pain and loss, sung with a rawness that the studio version completely
misses. Calling it a mid-life crisis song would cheapen his pain;
"One Dark Moment" sounds more like crisis song, period. Tilbrook
uncharacteristically spits out the lyrics, telling us, "Facing one
direction/ The fickle finger of pain/ Always pointing at me/ And I'm
so ashamed/ And I don't like who I am/ I don't like how I feel/ I
don't like where it's leading to/ The whole thing's a bad deal." This
is the type of emotional nakedness that propels all artistic
expression; without it, there's just craft. The rest of The
Incomplete Glenn Tilbrook is, ultimately, a collection of well
crafted, above-average songs that nonetheless fall short of art. But
"One Dark Moment" suggests that a second Glenn Tilbrook solo album
could really be something. I, for one, will be waiting for it.
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