Liz Phair’s 2003 Self-Titled Album Is Still Terrible

So, yes, my infamous-ish 0.0 review of Liz Phair’s 2003 self-titled record is not without its kneejerk reactions and cheap shots. But seven years later, I still think Liz Phair is a fucking terrible record.

I didn’t quite follow through on this, but I do remember trying to review Liz Phair without suggesting that it is in any way less “real” or “authentic” than Exile in Guyville. I don’t know/care who the “authentic” Liz Phair is. But as a fictive document of songcraft and performance, Exile in Guyville is much, much richer and more interesting than Liz Phair. The songs on Exile have emotional resonance. They have shape, they have form, they have narrative — personal or otherwise. They are delivered with style and nuance. They have character — “authentic” or not. The fact that Exile is presented through a more “verité” aesthetic is largely beside the point.

The relative quality of the writing on Exile and Liz Phair is not beside the point. Here are some some lyrics from “Divorce Song”:

And when I asked for a separate room
It was late at night, and we’d been driving since noon
But if I’d known how that would sound to you
I would have stayed in your bed for the rest of my life
Just to prove I was right
That it’s harder to be friends than lovers
And you shouldn’t try to mix the two
‘Cause if you do it and you’re still unhappy
Then you know that the problem is you

And here are some lyrics from “HWC”:

Give it to me, don’t give it away
Don’t think about what the others say
My skin’s getting clear, my hair’s so bright
All you do is fuck me every day and night
You’re my secret beauty routine
Na na na na, what my body has seen
I am lookin’ good and I’m feeling nice
Baby, you’re the best magazine advice

Forget the Matrix, forget Avril Lavigne, forget “teen pop” vs “indie rock.” Forget “personal writing” vs “pop songwriting,” for that matter. The difference between “Divorce Song” and “HWC” (and the difference between “Flower” and “Rock Me,” “Mesmerizing” and “Extraordinary” etc) is the difference between good writing and bad writing.

I’m not up for arguing whether the subject matter of “HWC” is empowering or offensive, but the arbitrary disjointedness of the song is inarguably the latter. Exile is notable for its sense of purpose; every line is treated like an opportunity, not an obligation. Liz Phair is full of maddening placeholders like that “na na na na” — lines that don’t make sense and don’t accomplish anything other than killing a couple seconds before the BIG CHORUS kicks in.

At its best, “poptimism” insists that pop music should be taken seriously as an art form and a means of cultural expression. At its worst, “poptimism” does exactly what it accuses “rockism” of doing: it suggests that pop music somehow doesn’t warrant critical scrutiny. A pop song, like any other work of art, can be more or less successful in its execution. Fountains of Wayne’s “Stacy’s Mom” won’t have the staying power of The Cars’ “Just What I Needed” because, while it has a GREAT BIG CHORUS, it lacks the hooks and momentum of the song it rips off. The emotional arc of Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” is made much more believable by the song’s melodic cleverness. Liz Phair marks a particularly dramatic shift from “indie rock” to “mainstream pop,” but it is not a referendum on the validity of “mainstream pop” as a genre.

After my Pitchfork review ran, I received a volley of e-mails pointing me to some interviews Phair gave around the time of Liz Phair‘s release. In these interviews, Phair explained that she made a “commercial” record in an effort to be a responsible grown-up, to make a financially successful record, and to support her family. By not liking the record, I was implicitly putting down women of a certain age, women with children, women in general, women in music, and/or women of a certain age in music. If I were Liz Phair’s friend and not a music critic, you could accuse me of not supporting her life choices. But, for better or worse, Liz Phair is an artist. And haphazardly contorting your art to better suit a potentially lucrative fad — whether it’s “teen pop” or “glo-fi” — is not something that we, as critics, should have to make excuses for.

It isn’t fair to hate on Liz Phair for not being an indie rock record. But it is fair to call out Liz Phair for being a limp, cynical and half-assed pop record.

[Editor's Note: Liz Phair released a new album, Funstyle, this past weekend. You can get it here.]

- Matt LeMay