Chris Difford and
Glenn Tilbrook reunited in 2007, but for the first few years the revived
Squeeze were nothing more than a touring act, ducking into the studio to re-record their hits in 2010 (the perfectly fine
Spot the Difference) but taking their time to write a new batch of songs. That long-awaited reunion record, entitled
Cradle to the Grave, finally appeared in the autumn of 2015, eight years after the reunion started and 17 years after
Squeeze's last album,
Domino. Remarkably, especially given its mortality-obsessed title,
Cradle to the Grave doesn't play like a revival, nor does it seem concerned with modern fashion.
Difford and
Tilbrook simply pick up the thread they left hanging in the '90s, acting as if no time has passed. Happily, the pair does not seem as knackered as they did on
Domino, a record where they seemed to limp along out of habit. Without consciously reviving any specific
Squeeze era -- the closest companion this album has may be the early-'90s efforts, such as
Play and
Some Fantastic Place --
Cradle to the Grave relies on the sharp melodic construction of
Tilbrook and
Difford's diffident wit, a combination the crackles throughout this lean 44-minute record. Although there's little doubt this is first and foremost a pop album constructed almost entirely out of tight three- to four-minute tunes, what
Squeeze celebrate is classic pop aesthetics, not sound: perhaps the Tamla-Motown bounce of the title track is expected, but the glitterball disco that follows on "Nirvana" is not, and the record is filled with such sly curveballs, finding a bit of earthiness in the majestic contours of
the Beach Boys and splendor within boozy singalongs. When applied to such sturdy songs, these grace notes make
Cradle to the Grave feel nothing less than celebratory, an affirmation of
Difford and
Tilbrook's special chemistry as songwriters and bandleaders. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine