May 19, 2005
Squeeze For Life
Jill Brooks, INtake columnist

I like setting simple goals. The pleasure being that sometimes, due to passion and determination, I have a knack for accomplishing them.

In middle school, one class project was to design a personal “Coat of Arms” then illustrate, through a rubric and elaborate agenda, how I would achieve my carefully drafted life goals.

Whatever.

Summer vacation was close, so I turned in mediocre work, proposing that I’d become a journalist, and learn how to do a back handspring. I learned the back handspring in gym the next year, confirming, “That’s it, no more goals.”

Until early high school.

My best friend slipped me a Squeeze tape in the hallway, saying, “Here’s something for Biology lab.” We both hated science (shouldn’t everyone?), so we spent our lab hours listening to music.

I’d never heard Squeeze, but quickly became a “Super Fan,” learning every song Squeeze ever produced, and thought, “Time for a new goal: meet and marry the lead singer, Glenn Tilbrook”.

High school boyfriend aside, I thought this was pretty attainable.

At the Vogue, circa 1994, I finally met the band Squeeze. I’d spent 3 days writing Glenn a letter (pathetic, really), and sneaked it past his malevolent tour manager (who wouldn’t let me near him) to his flattered, waiting fingertips.

Later, photos were taken; hence, goals were achieved. The letter would prompt his mutual devotion.

Almost 12 years later, Glenn and his new band, the Fluffers, played a wonderfully emphatic show at the Music Mill, April 22.

Glenn kindly agreed to hang out with me before the show, listening to my stories and drinking beer, after I’d pestered his publicist for weeks. I showed him the happy photo of us from the salad days, pointing out the menacing tour manager who dared keep us apart. He laughed, “Oh, she’s now my partner; we have a 2-yr-old son together.”

My foot keeps a spare house key to my mouth because it’s there a lot.

I continued with my glowing fanaticism, admitting that he’s the greatest lyricist the world has ever known. Timidly, he replied, “Thank you. The critics have been kind lately…but you know Chris Difford wrote all the songs for Squeeze.”

Um, I’d missed that part of the liner notes. Goal setting keeps me fairly busy.

Aware of my faux pas, nature instinctively sent a hailstorm for comic relief. Glenn and I watched together from the window. My inner schoolgirl reappeared; with racing heart and giddy admiration, I chuckled at his British humor as hail pelted my car.