You can imag­ine the scene. Teenagers Glenn Till­brook and Chris Gif­ford are rif­fling through an old card­board box in the attic. Noth­ing much here… but what’s this? Glenn brush­es a few decade’s worth of dust off a cas­sette, snaps it into the play­er, press­es PLAY… and the years melt away. The two are trans­port­ed back in time to when they wrote their first set of songs about a fic­tion­al night­club called Trix­ies, inspired by the tales of Damon Run­y­on. With Squeeze approach­ing their 50th anniver­sary, the time felt right to final­ly release them.

At the time of com­pos­ing Trix­ies, Chris Dif­ford was 19 and Glenn Tilbrook just 16. In 1974 the musi­cal vision of the young cre­ators exceed­ed their vir­tu­os­i­ty. Chris explains: “We ful­ly com­mit­ted our­selves to song­writ­ing but this was three or four years before we even got to make our first record. Long sto­ry short, these were songs that we just didn’t have enough musi­cal expe­ri­ence to record properly.”

Record­ing these undis­cov­ered songs has been a real labour of love, helped by the pro­duc­tion skills of Squeeze’s bassist Owen Bid­dle. As for the lyrics, I would­n’t dream of shar­ing my teenage bur­blings with even my best friend, so I have to hand it to Chris and Glenn for being brave and leav­ing most of the lyrics intact. While there are still one or two cringey moments, the duo han­dle their teenage mate­r­i­al with sen­si­tiv­i­ty and matu­ri­ty.

It is a plea­sure get­ting to know and appre­ci­ate these ear­ly songs that show­case their vision and song­writ­ing skills. Chris Dif­ford’s innate abil­i­ty to evoke strik­ing visu­al imagery comes to fore as he intro­duces Trix­ies’ cast of dream­ers and deal­ers. Sen­si­tiv­i­ty and insight are traits that he has car­ried through­out his song­writ­ing career, as in Labelled With Love.

Open­ing track What More Can I Say is the scene set­ter, cap­tur­ing the club in the morn­ing light as weary staffs clear up after clear up after anoth­er dra­ma-filled night.

What fol­lows is one of the strongest com­po­si­tions on the album: You Get the Feel­ing – a gor­geous­ly lush bal­lad with soul­ful vocals and instru­men­ta­tion that allows Glen­n’s vocals to shine. Chris com­ments: “The orig­i­nal ver­sion of You Get The Feel­ing was more like an old blues song. It took me 50 years to fig­ure out how to do it justice!”

The mood dark­ens with the bluesy, sin­is­ter Don’t Go Out in the Dark, evok­ing a crime scene on “one of those Vic­to­ri­an nights you won’t see any more.”

The night­club in ques­tion gets its fair share of seedy char­ac­ters and the duo don’t shy away from describ­ing the dehu­man­is­ing envi­ron­ment for its female enter­tain­ers in The Dancer. Cue the icy Ham­mer Hor­ror organ open­ing notes as the dancer, fists clenched, enters the stage to silence, while “every eye of every man” turns towards her.

The influ­ences are wide-rang­ing: Sparks-style swag­ger and pomp sur­face in Hell on Earth and Why Don’t You, a bop­py feel of Marc Bolan on The Jaguars. Good Rid­dance opens with a woozy tex­ture that, to con­tem­po­rary ears, recalls Pan­da Bear, before it set­tles into some­thing clos­er to Steely Dan.

Trix­ies Part 2 sashays in to close the album on a euphor­ic note, sax­o­phone trills punc­tu­at­ing the cho­rus, as the night­club rolls on to face anoth­er day. 

No doubt Trix­ies was a high­ly enter­tain­ing old-Soho style club in which to while away the ear­ly hours until you were turfed out. Short of step­ping through its doors, this fas­ci­nat­ing and fun album feels like the next best thing.

Trix­ies Track­list­ing:
What More Can I Say
You Get The Feel­ing
The Place We Call Mars
Hell On Earth
The Dancer
Good Rid­dance
Don’t Go Out In the Dark
Why Don’t You
Any­thing But Me
It’s Over
The Jaguars
Trix­ies (Part One)
Trix­ies (Part Two)

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