For a potent English rock band, Squeeze has an unusually sunny outlook on life. Neither angry nor arrogant, the boys prefer to wax anecdotal about the world's foibles and their own with catchy, rigorous and carefully structured tunes. The breakneck Misadventure, for example, documents wanderlust, culminating in a drug bust at customs ("Then they discovered/A shipment of Moroccan/And said excuse me, sir/There's something you've forgotten"). Separate Beds mesmerizingly recounts a familiar love story: "Her mother didn't like me/She thought I was on drugs/My mother didn't like her/She'd never peel the spuds." If I Didn't Love You contains the intriguing couplet, "Singles remind me of kisses/Albums remind me of plans." Squeeze drops names (Sinatra, Anne Frank, Harold Robbins) to excess, and the friendly tone may just be a hype of a different color. But this, the group's third American LP, is its best.