A slice of reality: Squeeze's The Knowledge

For reasons I can't explain, and would probably require a pyschology professional to help understand, I've always been fascinated by celebrity associations with the environs I occupy. Discovering that John Martyn was born in a house less than half mile from the dwelling where I entered this world was like hitting a rich seam of gold. That Eric Clapton walked the very streets I did growing up, or that Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck haled from districts no more than a bus ride from my front door provided sparkle to an otherwise not particularly thrilling suburban existence.

So now I'm living in Greenwich, I'm discovering an iconic part of London famed not only for its maritime history, but for being the epicentre of one of the great earthquakes - even if one with somewhat erratic aftershocks - of British pop music. For it was around here that Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook found a kindred musical interest that would become Squeeze and endure - more often off than on - for the last 44 years. Difford's superb memoir, Some Fantastic Place: My Life In And Out Of Squeeze charts extensively the ebb and flow of his relationship with Tilbrook, as well as the intrinsic part south-east London (and Greenwich, in particular) has played in their lives, and still does.

These two elements - their relationship and their origins - is an underlying background to The Knowledge, the 16th studio album under the Squeeze name and as musically and lyrically rich as anything they've produced since their recorded debut in 1979. Like all musical partnerships, Difford and Tilbrook's has always been strongly fraternal, a classic case of they only do what they do best when it's been the two of them working together - the former's lyrical wit (recognisably of its geographic origin) whether spoken, written or sung, the latter's melodic ease. Of course, that fraternity has been frequently stretched, often as Difford - as his memoir reveals - has gone off on his own path, encountering demons in the way. But it's a brotherly fabric that even when stretched seemingly beyond shape, it has a welcome habit of retracting back to the state that serves the relationship best.

While their last outing, 2015's Cradle To The Grave (a musical accompaniment to Difford's Deptford schoolfriend Danny Baker's sitcom based on his first memoir) was a first flexing of the Difford/Tilbrook writing muscle in a while, The Knowledge feels like a fully-fledged adventure. And a grand adventure it is, too. Opening track Innocence In Paradise delivers a cinematic Western-theme, while still rooted in London's southern hemisphere, evoking both the social commentary of Up The Junction as well as that perennial pub singalong favourite Cool For Cats. Patchouli sets itself in Difford's Greenwich hometown, referencing Maryon Wilson Park in a nostalgic nod back to some of the tales his book's early chapters covers in entertaining depth. London is a recurring muse in Difford's lyrics, with Rough Ride giving a less than glowing appraisal of the struggles facing Londoners today ("this city we love") while married to a Steely Dan-like funk.

If we were honest, there are few pop acts who can do social conscience without sounding insincere or, simply, corny. Bruce Springsteen can succeed in covering the blue collar human condition whereas Phil Collins singing about homeless people just sounds false. It's all about how you go about it. Thus, A&E, with its gentle jazz-soul, shouldn't deliver anything even remotely cutting about the state of the NHS. But it does. "It wouldn't hurt to give them more," Tilbrook sings about public sector wages. It is, even with a serious message, simply a lovely song.

When Squeeze emerged at the beginning of the post-punk New Wave, they could easily have been categorised as novelty pub rock merchants. But this dismisses Difford and Tilbrook's mastery as songwriters of exquisite, if too often unrecognised class. Final Score is a perfect example - a beautifully crafted, beautifully performed slice of soul - replete with a piano solo former member Jools Holland would be proud of - that lulls you into its arms...until you realise that its about a young boy with aspirations to become a professional footballer being abused by a predatory coach. It's here that you realise that Difford is taking no prisoners with his writing, whether tackling topics as diverse as erectile dysfunction on Please Be Upstanding, record collectors on Albatross, or his relationship with Tilbrook on Two Forks.

One of my frustrations with Squeeze over the years is that they have, too often, only been judged by their hit singles. And while the greatest hits packages that aggregate these songs have, it would appear, kept them solvent during the lean years, the real strength to this band can only be fully experienced in their albums. The Knowledge is a welcome reminder of just why Difford and Tilbrook have been rightfully compared to pop's greatest writing partnerships - yes, a certain pair of Scousers included. Tilbrook has called it their "best-ever record", and he may not be wrong. It's certainly one of the most consistent, soup-to-nuts good albums in their history, one that feels like its been written and recorded with comfort and ease, particularly Difford and Tilbrook being comfortable and at-ease with each other, and rooted in reality - the pain and joy of it.