My typical work day is about 17 hours, six or seven days a week. If I were to divide it into blocks, it would come out to something like this:
*25 percent of the time solving the Hiss Case;
*75 percent of the time, wasting time.
The latter would be subdivided into:
*10 percent exercise
*15 percent practicing the ukulele
*24 percent the Mets
*24 percent just fucking around on the computer
*24 percent listening and finding music while doing all of the above.
* trace percentages eating, reading, doing good works, walking dogs, doing household chores and sitting on the toilet
This is a long introduction to my song of the month by a band that used to be one of my very favorites: Squeeze. I say used to because after the first few albums I felt they lost their spark and consistency. I heard some of it start to return with Tilbrook's last solo album, which was recorded while he was barely eeking out an existence by playing in peoples' living rooms.
Maybe hard times have brought their mojo back. I should say that Brother Sal is probably going to have something to say about the record, and he might tell everyone that I am full of shit, and that it stinks, that I suck, that the Mets suck and that Alger Hiss was guilty. That wouldn't surprise me. He's a lot smarter than I am, and besides, this is his space, but this is Friday, it's the weekend, we have these new celebratory laws in Oregon and the news in Oregon besides that yesterday really really sucked, so in honor of all those things and as an ode to the subdivision of my work day — and anybody's work day and anybody looking forward to the weekend, and anybody still enjoying summer songs of yore, I present this ear candy song from the new album.
I think it's Squeeze at its Squeeziest, although come to think about it, there might be a couple of songs on the album that are even Squeezier.
Click here to be deliciously Squeezed.