Squeeze, Hornsby Took Different Routes To The Hearts Of Their Fans
Squeeze, Hornsby Took Different Routes To The Hearts Of Their Fans
By John Voket
On two evenings a week or so apart, on the stages of two revived small town theaters, two acts that established themselves during the late â70s and early 1980s gave their all to the fans. But while the British ensemble Squeeze did so with formulaic precision, replicating virtually every guitar lick and hook of their many popular ditties, Bruce Hornsby and his band The Noisemakers took a different tack.
Hornsby hit the Ridgefield Playhouse in near darkness, just one man, his piano, and his flying spider fingers, getting the crowd primed with a brand new song he co-wrote with Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter called âCyclone,â before rolling into an off tempo take on âA Night on the Town.â
Then it was time for the Noisemakers to arrive, shuffling on and building into âLong Tall Cool One.â From that point on, everyone in the room should have gotten an idea that they were in for one long, tall, cool ride!
Hornsby proceeded to deliver two flawless and compelling sets that brought fans to their feet on numerous occasions, while at the same time frustrating more than a few folks who werenât shy about discussing it during the intermission.
âWhy is he changing all his songs?â one asked.
âI hate all the new arrangements,â commented another.
Alas, the beauty of a Bruce Hornsby show was lost on them and all the rest who came to hear album versions of his many hits. Heck, he even acknowledged it himself midway through the second set when he told the band, âWeâd better play this one like it goes on the radio or weâre gonnaâ get killed.â
And while he then teased the crowd with the âauthenticâ piano chord opening to âThe End of the Innocence,â as soon as it was time to start singing he ventured off script, once again rephrasing all the verses so they played out in counterpoint to the melody instead of being nicely snuggled in on the familiar downbeat.
âLost in the Snowâ was a thrilling joyride of rounds played out at lightning speed, and the unexpected âTango Kidâ was a rhythmically infused treat performed thanks to one particularly persistent and vociferous fan near the back of the house who kept shouting out for it.
While most of the familiar songs were readjusted to suit Hornsbyâs mood that evening, the one performance that was closest to its original take came after a great story about the artist being sued by none other than Charles Ives. Recalling that the great American master resided just a few miles away from the Ridgefield venue, Hornsby related how he constructed the intro to âEvery Little Kissâ as an homage to Ives.
But apparently the Ives family didnât see it that way, turning around and threatening to file suit over the copyright infringement. So Hornsby, with just one record under his belt at the time, defended himself by contacting the Ives family to reassure them he was paying tribute to Ives, not attempting to cash out on his creative property.
Hearing that straight from Hornsby himself, the Ives family promptly dropped the action.
Another familiar version came later in the second set, when the lanky Virginian strapped on his accordion for âBig Stick,â from the Kevin Costner film Tin Cup. From there it was back to anyoneâs guess. âThe Way it Isâ came with a salsa beat, âThe Valley Roadâ was transformed into a tent house meeting celebration, and âMandolin Rainâ was transposed into a minor key, giving the sweet love song a dark foreboding feel.
It was a night that went down in the books for Hornsby devotees who have heard way too many sets chocked full of radio replications, and who are as thrilled to hear off-kilter versions as the artist is to dole them out.
The Squeeze set a few days later at the lovely restored Warner Theater in Torrington was another one for the books because co-founders Glenn Tilbrook and Chris Difford delivered so many of their numbers without alteration.
In fact, the only discernible change to any of their hits came midway through the set, with a stepped up, almost reggae sounding take on âTempted.â The rest of the set was pretty much spot-on, with some of the more popular radio cuts like âTake Me Iâm Yours,â âBlack Coffee In Bed,â and a rousing âAnnie Get Your Gunâ among the high points.
The core instrumental duo and main songwriting team of Difford and Tilbrook actually first met and collaborated back in the early â70s in a group called Skyco. And seeing them work together again nearly 35 years later was pretty cool.
While Difford anchors most arrangements on rhythm guitar, stepping up for an occasional lead vocal turn, Tilbrook was in amazing shape, tendering both clear soaring vocals and effortless dexterity on the many guitar leads.
âPulling Muscles From a Shellâ and âCool for Catsâ both shined, as did the mid-tempo numbers âForever in Your Gazeâ and âSeparate Beds.â
Upon concluding the set, this reviewer was intrigued enough to dig into some background on Squeeze, and was surprised to find that besides the two primary songwriters who still front the band, the ensemble had a revolving cast of different musicians rounding out the crew.
And while the addition of Aimee Mann back in the mid-â90s seemed a little strange, I laughed out loud when I learned that in another period of transition after the British keyboardist Paul Carrack and Jools Holland both bowed out of the picture, a young studio musician by the name of Bruce Hornsby stepped up to fill the seat.
Strange coincidence, but nonetheless true!