Just a quickie here...
(Pic from Photbooth.net)
Stereogum had a post about a forthcoming documentary about Liz Phair's album Exile in Guyville and the trailer made it look fascinating. As with a lot of people, I have a love/ hate relationship with Liz Phair. The easiest thing for me to do is pretend that the Liz who wrote Exile is a completely different person who put out the latter day pop songs that wandered up and down the Bilboard charts.
So. Liz Phair. I think she made me a feminist? I remember getting a copy of Exile in Guyville, a purported song-by-song response to the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main Street, when I was 19 or 20. My fondest memory of this album involves a boy and a broken heart, which sounds sad and is sad, but not as sad as you think. I had just decisively ended a tormented former romance turned friendship--always the worst kind, though I didn't know that at the time--and was still reeling a little bit but I definitely did not want to talk about it, thank you very much.
There was a long drive and a lot of thinking and as I passed over state lines, the thinking became singing and then the singing became a sort of yell-singing like, yes Liz Phair! This is my life you are singing about! You, with your perfect hair and amazing voice and envious way with words! You are singing my songs.
And her music, with it's anger and rue and sweetness, made me feel all better. By the time I reached Cape Cod to meet my grandma and mom for our annual vacation (which, really, can you imagine a worse place to be going for a week when you are so mad at the world you can barely breathe?) I was actually looking forward to every little thing that we do in our mobius strip of a vacation. Whenever some emotion crept up on me that week, I just put on Exile in Guyville and offered to pick up the beach passes or groceries and pretended that I was Liz Phair as I drove there, singing out every thing that had ever pissed me off.