Squeeze dreams are not made of this.
The debut album on which John Cale turns them into a newt wave band. (Don’t worry, they got better.)
The pub-rock charm bubbles to the surface on the second album, and the hits started coming.
A pop song about an alcoholic who loses his wife and daughter? That’s English gold right there.
Pretty much “Take Me, I’m Yours” but with a nice boy-meets-girl story behind it.
Squeeze’s first and only foray into the holiday season is this unappetizing fruitcake.
If you crossed The Beatles with Elvis Costello, you’d get this (and be happy).
The first single from Argybargy is three minutes of musical joy tied up with a gorgeous six-string solo.
I’m not sure that even The Beatles ever made an album this good.
A box of chocolates with a surprising number of sour quince logs.
Sweet’s most sophisticated moment was apparently too sober for the radio.
The most tempting of his solo albums, featuring the crew from Nick the Knife.
A dozen golden moments squeezed into the band’s only platinum record.
Not as commercially successful as Babylon and On, but arguably the better album.
With each album lately better than their last, Squeeze had found a second wind.