Artist bio

Liz Phair, though she has continued to grow as a writer and a musician over the past decade, would still have a place in rock history were she to have quit the biz after the release of her bombshell first album, Exile In Guyville. Exile was a revelation, a 18-track opus that sounds like it was recorded where it was largely written, in the upstairs bedroom of a teenage girl in suburban Chicago.

Listeners and writers picked up most strongly on the brazen sexuality of tracks like "Fuck And Run" and "Flower," but equally striking was the unabashed pop of "Never Said" and "6'1''," the seductive riffing on "Mezmerizing," the vivid portrait of breakup on "Divorce Song," the elegant atmospheric mood set in "Stratford-On-Guy," etc. It might have announced the birth of a star, but it was her coming-out party and grand achievement at the same time.

Phair would follow up Guyville with the very good albums Whip-Smart and whitechocolatespaceegg, but though neither have embarrassing moments, really, neither comes close to her 1993 debut. That said, Phair was one of the '90s' more intriguing female singer-songwriters, and whether or not her future work ever materializes, she'll be remembered fondly, if only as that frustrated and inspired girl in the attic.

Albums by this artist

Liz Phair (2003)

whitechocolatespaceegg (1998)

Whip-Smart (1994)

Exile In Guyville (Recommended) (1993)

Liz Phair

Liz Phair

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» TROY CARPENTER | CO-DIRECTOR

Liz Phair Liz Phair Capitol, 2003 RiYL: Aimee Mann, Sheryl Crow, Letters To Cleo

Four years in, Nude As The News is still strictly a hobby, and our various other obligations often prevent us from posting reviews of hot new albums while they're still fresh on store shelves (or newly uploaded to one's iPod, if you must). One side effect of this sporadic editorial flow -- which can be good or bad -- is that most professional publications tend to issue their judgment on popular albums before we get the chance to chime in.

In some cases, it helps a reviewer to avert his eyes from the general press' impressions, so as to not become unduly influenced or cloud an honest perspective on the album. But a lot of the time -- and certainly in the case of Liz Phair's fourth album -- the word on the street is hard to avoid. The public consensus on Phair seemed to be that the former indie-goddess had polished her sound to a trendy sheen, in a calculated bid for more sales that was sure to leave her older fanbase disillusioned.

So unfortunately, I had to approach and even wade through through my first listen to Liz Phair with the haunting question burning in my mind: did lovely Liz, whose confessional, lo-fi debut I fell love with in high school, sell her soul to become the next Avril?

Don't believe the hype. There's nothing so drastic here, just Phair doing what she always has -- acting out age-specific dramas and relationship fantasies through memorable pop songs sung in her patented sultry vocals. Granted, the four songs co-written and produced by modern rock professional hit-writers the Matrix take her sound to never-before-visited levels of slickness, layering overdubbed vocals and upping the cheese factor to 11. But Phair's always had a couple blatant super-pop singles on her albums ("Never Said," "Supernova," "Johnny Feelgood," etc.). And Liz Phair isn't entirely aimed at the top-40; its catchiest track urges the kids to sing along about intimate bodily fluids!

Overall, the disc is pretty much a quintessential Liz Phair album. Or at least, the one you would expect her to make at this juncture. She's been sashaying toward middle-of-the-road pop/rock bliss through her entire career, and it has just come to a hilt here.

Now, I do have to make like the majority of reviewers and summarily dis her "Matrix" projects. "Extraordinary" and "Why Can't I" are just vapid, empty pop hooks. "Rock Me" is embarrassing. "My Favorite Underwear" does nothing more than compare some hot dude to said clothing object. Not the highlights of her career. But there are track-forward buttons, and there are mp3 players, and most people these days can listen to whichever damn songs they want to. This album has 14 tracks, and certainly more than half of them are worthy of Liz Phair's catalog.

The album's saving grace is its inconsistency. With songs produced months or years apart in different studios with different bands and producers, the album is the most jumbled of Phair's career. But the variety is a boon: even if you can't stand the Matrix tracks, there are many others deserving of attention.

Adult pop utilityman Michael Penn produced five songs, and his arrangements take Phair's music to some great places, at times sounding deliciously like something one might find on one of Penn's wife Aimee Mann's albums. And the two tracks Phair produced alone, "Firewalker" and "Bionic Eyes," are both highlights, futuristic rockers that take advantage of her vocal sound but don't overdo things. Plus, there's something oddly refreshing about "H.W.C.," a catchy singalong that just happens to feature the lewd but uplifting chorus "gimme your hot white come."

For my money, it's a good thing Liz Phair is still giving us new music. She's using her talents in different ways than she did on her untouchable debut, but she's definitely still adding to her appeal with a number of the new songs. Her music's never been a waste of my time, and it seldom has been a drag. The biggest drawback is that after 10 years, we are only just getting her fourth album.

TROY CARPENTER | Troy Carpenter founded NATN from a Chicago apartment during the ambitious winter of 1998 with co-conspirators Ben French and Jonathan Cohen. After a five-year stint in New York, he and wife Lourdes have recently relocated to Indianapolis, where he spends days listening to music and nights in the kitchen at Elements restaurant. Musical heroes: Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley, Super Furry Animals. What else makes life worth living: Sushi, Phucty, runs in the park, and the Atlanta Braves.