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The Naked and the Cred
Shining Some Glory
Many are scandalized that Liz Phair "turned to" (the correct verb, as
in "a life of crime") Avril Lavigne producers the Matrix for her first
album in five years. As someone who likes the idea of Avril Lavigne
but finds her music too slow and mushy for faux punk, I was worried,
not scandalized--and more worried to learn that Phair had also turned
to Pete Yorn's producer and Aimee Mann's husband, who've yet to give
the world a "Sk8er Boi" between them. But I wasn't scandalized then
either. Artists will sleep with anybody they think is good for a
ride. With Liz Phair, that goes double.
So then I played the advance and stopped worrying. Liz Phair
may not be her best album, but don't bet on it. For sure it's the one
I want to hear right now, next month, all year. It includes no bad
songs--at worst a couple of dubious or uninspired ones--and four or
five every bit as indelible as "Flower" (which, Christina fans, is
where Ms. Phair famously aspired to the title "blowjob queen" a decade
ago). Unfortunately, my promo didn't indicate who oversaw what. So
just for fun I guessed. My reasoning on the five great ones, in
ascending order:
- "Extraordinary": lead track IDing Phair as "average everyday sane
psycho supergoddess." Unrequited love lyric with nice audience
overtones ("Stand in the street, yell out my heart/To make to make you
love me"), also "So I still take the trash out/Does that make me too
normal for you?"), big mushy catchy pseudoheavy verse, chorus catchier
than that. Definitely Matrix.
- "Favorite": compares old lover to "my favorite underwear" in
over-the-top metaphor ("leave you lying on the bedroom floor,"
"thought we were falling apart"). Themewise I'd say Yorn's guy Walt
Vincent; also, would the Matrix risk her naked voice enunciating
"You're like my favorite underwear" or closing with "Slipping you on
again tonight"? Quite possibly--radio eats up the risqué these
days. And the loud drums-guitar-voices intro-chorus sounds hitbound,
theoretically. Matrix again.
- "Hot White Cum": official title "H.W.C." Cross-collateralization
notwithstanding, Capitol wouldn't waste Matrix bucks on the line "All
you do is fuck me every day and night." Strummed intro, clear
unaugmented vocal, cheery electro-handclaps behind "Give me your hot
white cum" chorus, harmonica solo. Could be Michael Penn, but Aimee
Mann couldn't rock this hard on a motorized hobbyhorse. Make it
Vincent.
- "Little Digger": Liz's kid finds her in bed with guy not his
dad. Classic Phair--spare instrumentation, wavery pitch, strange
melody precluding the Trisha Yearwood cover the lyric deserves. Zero
Clear Channel potential. Note awkwardly repetitive (hence emphatic)
directness of must-quote verse: "I've done the damage/The damage is
done/I pray to God/ That I'm the damaged one." What Mann (also womann)
oughta be. Penn.
- "Rock Me": Liz screws a piece of young stuff more senseless than
he was when he started. Not the lead single only because everyone's
chicken to find out that Phair's bid for the gold didn't work. The
chorus rules; its "rock me all night long" evasion has been
radio-ready for half a century. The blowjob queen's most sex-positive
song yet. Gotta be Matrix.
Scandalized? How dumb. I can't explain the technical stuff, but I'd
describe the Matrix's sound with Lavigne as "generalized." No matter
who produced what (which since I did get all five right must mean
something), that's how this album comes across--keybs
everywhere, voice big and in tune. Only with Phair, this
generalization--while definitely ambitious, tsk tsk--is also an act of
love (toward Christina fans and such) and a reaffirmation of the
sexual appetites she's indulged since she was exiled in Guyville, a
sobriquet she devised to insult the indie world oh so long ago. Five
years later, she put in quality time as a matron-artiste; now, single
again at 36, she further insults the indie world by successfully
fusing the personal and the universal, challenging
lowest-common-denominator values even as it fellates them. You want
her to express herself? She just did.
Village Voice, July 8, 2003
Postscript Notes: This piece originally appeared as the third of a set of three
reviews of Liz Phair (2003, Capitol). The other pieces were
"Letters and Sodas" by Joshua Clover, and "Soaking in It" by Jane
Dark. The overall piece was titled "The Naked and the Cred," and
the subhead or tagline was "Filler Bummer Hummers in the Hot White
Summer With a Midlife Diplomat." See the
Voice
website for the full article.
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