Amazon.com
Eponymous albums are usually either debuts or the work of musicians trying to introduce themselves to a new audience. Count
Liz Phair among the latter. It’s Phair's fourth studio album, but her first since 1998, and it's a long way from the arty, low-fi sound that marked her true full-length debut, 1993's
Exile in Guyville. Phair has developed into a considerably more confident singer, while her songs and the production they receive here are as slick and radio-friendly as anything by, say,
Avril Lavigne. That’s no surprise, since Lavigne's production team, the Matrix, produced many of the tracks here. (The rest are helmed by LA rock stalwarts
Michael Penn and
Pete Yorn producer R. Walt Vincent.) Sex is still Phair's primary subject, whether it’s comparing a lover to a comfortable pair of old underwear ("Favorite"), asking a much younger man to "Rock Me" all night long, or praising the beauty benefits of oral sex ("H.W.C."). The only time Phair lets the cheery facade crack a bit is on "Little Digger," on which Phair tries to explain to her young son why the man she's currently dating is not the boy's father. Who could've guessed that even the freest, best-protected sex could have such far-reaching, unintended consequences?
--Keith Moerer
Reader Reviews
"I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary/Average every day sane psycho/Supergoddess" Liz Phair humbly informs us on the opening track of the self-titled "Liz Phair" disc, a radical change from her offbeat indie-rock roots. And her steps into unknown terrain take her pretty far down. Part of Phair's new sound is the poppy but forgettable ("Rock Me," "Why Can't I?"), steady ballads ("Little Digger") and more fast-paced pop ("Extraordinary"). Only a handful of songs seem to be sung with anything like feeling, such as the moderately poignant "Little Digger" and the slightly eerie "Bionic Eyes." The writing is typical pop, with lots of why-don't-you-love-me and ooh-I-love-you-so laments (with the occasional midlife crisis anthem like "Rock Me," which sounds like Demi Moore's theme song). The thumpy synthesized music is unexceptional, and after one or two listens I was bored by them. Phair's vocals often sound like they've been filtered through a metal drum, kind of metallic and lifeless. The only deviations from pop puffery is when Phair sets out to shock. Like how? Like "Favorite" (comparing a boyfriend to frayed underpants? How flattering!) or "H.W.C.", in which a certain phrase is repeated over and over and over without lyrical purpose until it loses its shock value. There's no hidden meanings to the phrasing, no eroticism to the sex-related comments. While other singers like Jewel have hopped onto the pop wagon, at least their offerings were passable. "Liz Phair" is ultimately forgettable when it isn't mildly embarrassing, and the lack of any standout material makes it sink.
Comment | Permalink |
(Report this)
Back To Top
