Last week I attended two live shows that couldn't have been more different, yet were equally enjoyable. We've all read why Les Savy Fav kicks ass, so I won't reiterate here, but the solo performance of Squeeze singer and songwriter Glenn Tilbrook bears review simply because it was filled with hilarious circumstance as well as atrocious clothing.

I remain a gigantic Squeeze fan. However, knowing full well I was in for a live preview of what my impending high school reunion will look like (the aforementioned atrocious clothing), I steeled myself and headed down to the Crocodile for Tilbrook's show at the old-timer's hour of 8:00 p.m. Upon arrival, I was informed that Tilbrook, who was traveling to the show in a 1988 Cruise Master RV, had broken down and would be "a little late." Of course I'd already eaten dinner, and boozing it up to pass the time was out of the question, so a blustery cloud formed above my head and stayed there throughout Jon Auer's heartfelt, if obviously time-filling, opening set. Those who understand me best know that truly awful moods eventually manifest themselves in either broken objects or ridiculously unrelenting giggles and mean-spirited, distorted mockery--usually to acid-trip proportions. So yes, that was me sitting in the Croc's crow's nest guffawing, pointing, and dancing with my ass purposefully hanging out of my low-rise jeans during Auer's rendition of Madonna's "Beautiful Stranger." I'd learned that not only had Tilbrook's chariot broken down, he'd fallen off a stool during a performance in Eugene two days previously and injured his foot. HEE! (Remember, I was in bad-mood hysterics, and broken-down camper + busted foot = HEE!) I assumed the set would be fueled by pain and suffering and full of proper British foulness, so when the 44-year-old singer eventually breezed through the front door and gamely crutched his way to the stage, I began to question my assumption. "Today has not been my day" was about the extent of Tilbrook's complaining, and over the next 90 minutes he told charming stories and sang nearly every Squeeze hit until he tired of sitting on his stool and inquired whether there was a guitarist in the house who could take over so we could get a change of scenery. I thought for a moment that Auer and Posies co-frontman Ken Stringfellow were going to duke it out over who'd do the honors, but Auer and another guy grabbed Tilbrook's guitars and dammit if a moment later we all weren't following behind the trio, singing "Goodbye Girl" down Second Avenue all the way to the Lava Lounge, where the stunned crowd was treated to "Pulling Muscles from a Shell." Then it was back up the street to the Crocodile, where the unstoppable Tilbrook cranked out five more tunes. Cheers, mate!