As a veteran rock star, part of the deal is to be constantly confronted by your younger self. Even so, at 71 Squeeze’s Chris Difford was stopped in his tracks by the cassette he exhumed from his loft last year.
Labelled ‘Trixies’, it captures the first bloom of Difford’s partnership with Glenn Tilbrook, recorded back in 1974 (when the pair were respectively 19 and 16), but packed with jazzy art-pop with a sophistication light years beyond their peers.
“It’s very emotional,” Difford says of re-recording these youthful songs as an elder statesman. “It’s been an incredible journey to get to this place."
Lyrically, Trixies is a concept album set at a fictional nightclub, isn’t it?
Yeah. There was a club on Deptford Broadway. You had to go downstairs to get in. And it was kind of sweet-looking inside, with gilded sofas, but it was a pretty nasty place, full of strange people. I think Trixies is based there, in my imagination.
Mark Knopfler once described mid-70s Deptford as an “armpit”.
Deptford has always been rough around the edges. It’s become gentrified now. If you wanted to buy an apartment there you’d have to find a couple of million, whereas in those days you’d get somewhere for a hundred quid a week. But there was always a kind of warmth about danger for me. That was just part of growing up in Deptford, getting to know the ropes, on the streets, and it feeling vulnerable and romantic at the same time. At nineteen I was in and out of pubs, in and out of trouble…
Tell us about some of the songs?
Trixies was written such a long time ago, I can’t hook myself up to the guy that wrote it, particularly. Musically, Hell On Earth was influenced a bit by Sparks. The Place We Call Mars was a latecomer to the record and it’s got Bowie all over it, in the guitar work. Don’t Go Out In The Dark is part of the story, like, you’ve been in this dangerous club and if I were you I wouldn’t go out in the dark, in case something happens to you.
What do you remember about the ad that brought you and Glenn Tilbrook together?
I’d asked for a guitarist influenced by The Kinks, David Bowie and The Who. It was in the window of a sweet shop for three weeks, and nobody called, so I was just about to give up. Then Glenn answered, and here we are, all these years later. I don’t know what I was looking for in a sweet shop window. Guitarists were hardly going to look there. I should have put it in the Melody Maker.
How would you describe yourself as a nineteen-year-old guitarist?
I was no good. I was a strummer, and I still am. But I can live with or without a guitar. Writing lyrics is where I found my safe place, if you like. Glenn was a virtuoso. He’s always been handy. He’s an incredible guitarist, much underrated. Not that people rate guitarists any more. But he’s up there with the best, I’d say.
Why didn’t the band ultimately go in the Trixies direction?
It just wasn’t for Squeeze. We couldn’t play it properly. You know, we had Jools [Holland] in the band, and it wasn’t his bag at all. So we went off and played rock’n’roll songs and covers, which was much more fun.
Could the Trixies material have broken through in the punk era?
Only if we’d got dressed up in leather gear.
Where had the material been all this time?
It’s been sitting on a cassette in my loft. Every now and again I’d think about it. We all did. But it was only last year when we all listened to it and said: “Yeah, we should re-record this”. I mean, you can hear that we couldn’t really play it, so it made sense that we just put it to bed.
How does it feel to have Trixies finally out there in the world?
It’s exactly the right time for it to see the light of day. Owen Biddle has done a fantastic job producing this record. And it sounds extraordinary compared to what it sounded like in 1974. It was rough and ready, that’s for sure.
Prior to Squeeze, had anyone ever noticed your talent for words?
One English teacher did point out that my storytelling was good. He was the only person who picked up on it.
Do you still relate to your old lyrics, or are there things that make you squirm now?
No, I think I stand by everything. There’s fanciful things, like a song called The Apple Tree, which I’ve never liked, but that’s about it.
What do you think human lyricists have that AI doesn’t?
Truth. When you’re writing a lyric, it’s the truth, it’s you. AI is not you. It doesn’t exist.
What’s the secret to a fifty-year creative partnership?
Well, we’ve fallen out lots of times, so I don’t think there is a secret. Our biggest arguments? There’s been plenty, but it’s not for me to go into that in an interview, particularly. There are bruises on both sides of the fence.
You do a lot of work for the Help Musicians charity. What do you think the government should do to ‘fix’ live music? Give a hand to small venues, for example?
That would be a start. But if people don’t go to gigs, then you’re throwing money at the wall. Some of the reasons why these clubs are closing are because people aren’t going out to listen to music in the way they used to. It’s not just because the government aren’t putting money in. Things have changed. The way people listen to music is different now.
Do you think that club in Deptford has shut down?
I hope not. If it’s still there I’d like to go back.
Trixies is out now via BMG.
