Norman: Let’s swap stories. When did you first hear Liz Phair?

Tyler: I knew of her from reading Rolling Stone, Allmusic, and the like, all the way back in my teenage years.  Eventually, I picked up a copy of Exile In Guyville, but I was far too young and ignorant to the struggles of women in romance and in society.  It took me a while to really dig into the album beyond catchier tracks like “6’1”” and “Never Said.”  Nonetheless, even lacking a real understanding of what made the work great, I picked up Whip-Smart and Whitechocolatespaceegg over time.  Again, I responded to some of these tunes, but I did not comprehend what it all really meant.

How about yourself?

Norman: My first exposure was in 1994 when “Supernova” started getting serious rotation on “alternative” radio stations. That song was a bit of a revelation. Huge hooks, super sexy singer, openly sexual lyrics, and extremely fun. A friend had the whole album and I borrowed it. I recall enjoying that album, but it never really stuck. 

Then there was a ten year gap. In 2004 I read a Spin magazine “list of top 100 albums since the magazine started” kind of article. And Exile was listed around 12 or 13. At that time, I was very open to purchasing CDs based strictly on a list like this one and the recollection of “Supernova.” 

I bought Exile and wasn’t sure at first. Her singing isn’t good and neither is her guitar playing. But gradually the songwriting and lyrics started getting inside of me until I was obsessed with the album for a good few months. The rest is history.

Tyler: Yeah, her singing on Exile takes adjustment.

Norman: Yes. But once you make the adjustment, her singing has a vulnerable quality that is hard to come by.

Tyler: She sounds resigned.  Nigh-defeated.

Norman: Over time I got into Whip-Smart again and now I think of it as almost equal to Exile.

Tyler: Oh my!

Norman: I don’t think it’s a stretch, really. Most of the songs from Whip-Smart come from the early Girly-Sound recordings, so they are in the same family, so to speak, as the Exile songs.

Whitechocolatespaceegg is really good, too. It’s a little bloated and some of the songs are skippable, but it’s a decent record. For a long time I avoided everything after that album, because post-Whitechocolatespacegg records have a less than stellar reputation.

Tyler: And thus, our aim here today.  Taking a look at those records, starting with 2003’s loathed Liz Phair.

Norman: How did you like self-titled? Let’s recall that Pitchfork gave it a 0/10 upon release. Is that too harsh?

Tyler: My copy of Liz Phair was annexed from a college radio station.  The deejay review stickered on top of the cover was a scribble of vitriol.  As I’d begun to come around on some of the tracks, I decided the CD needed a better home.  Pitchfork—and that deejay—were full of nonsense.  Liz Phair is a patchwork, but it’s a patchwork of very solid songs alongside some shiny post-Avril shots at pop radio.  Those shots, the singles “Why Can’t I?” and “Extraordinary,” are far from the execrable dross considered as such by so many Phair fans.  It’s not a bad album!

“Rock Me” is another saucy confection.  “Favorite,” too, though that song is a mistake.

Norman: Setting all pretentions aside, Liz Phair is a decent record. And if someone thinks that she sold out or that this is somehow a completely different person, I would point their attention to “H.W.C.”

Tyler: Oh yeah.  Also, she’s sure to throw “We haven’t fucked yet” into the lead single.

Norman: But this record is a serious shift, so I can understand why people might have recoiled at first. The production is slick. Her voice is more professional, I can’t think of anything on Liz Phair as quirky as “Headache” from Whitechocolatespaceegg. So, it isn’t as quirky or rough around the edges as she had been in the past, and if those things were a part of her appeal for you, then this album would be a disappointment.

The thing that really struck me was she doesn’t lose her knack for confessional storytelling at all. That, for me, is one of her best qualities as a lyricist. A song like “Little Digger” comes to mind. What a tough song.

Tyler: “Friend Of Mine” has long been a personal favorite, a heartbreaking standout that functions as the album’s emotional climax.  Her delivery of “I miss you, so badly” is gutting.

Norman: My final take on Liz Phair is that it is way better than its reputation suggests. That said, the quirky, unpolished vibe of her first three albums is a huge draw for me, and so this is an album that I appreciate more than love. I don’t own it and I probably won’t ever unless I find it in a thrift store.

Tyler: I’d buy it on vinyl.

Norman: Wow.

Tyler: For the right price!

Norman: What about Somebody’s Miracle?

I don’t think I’d actually listened to this one until we decided to do this project.

Tyler: Likewise!

I recall its release.  I wasn’t thrilled by the lead single, which I believe was “Everything To Me.”  It felt like a studied misstep.  I judged the thing by its cover.

Norman: Even the album title is a turn-off. It sounds too sentimental.

Tyler: It sounds more straightforward than any of her other LPs, by far.

Norman: “Straightforward” is a good word. If Liz Phair ever did anything that could be described as unoffensive, this is it. It’s so…regular.

Tyler: I don’t think it’s bad, though!  It’s professional, there’s nary a missed note, her singing sounds solid, the songs are steady.  She’s not breaking new ground here.  She’s just taking her time to make a unified popular-rock record.  I gave it a few listens and really thought it quite good.

Sheryl Crow has tried on a million genres throughout her career.  Liz Phair earned the same right.

Norman: The world was not ready for it, though, because Somebody’s Miracle did horribly, money-wise.

But, yes. It sounds good. The production is fine. I don’t think it’s a bad album, but it didn’t rise above background music for me.

Tyler: It does carry that risk throughout.  It’s not compelling.

Norman: And that’s the crime of this album. Liz Phair had always been, if nothing else, compelling.

Tyler: Here, then, we skip ahead five years in time.  Funstyle.

This one dropped to much ballyhoo.

Norman: I do not know how to think about Funstyle. WHAT THE HELL IS IT?

We are back to the Liz Phair that takes risks I guess.

Tyler: Dude, this thing is exactly what it announces itself to be. A fun sequence of stylish insanity.

I thought it was great.  She’s so smart!

Norman: This was a Jekyll/Hyde album for me. There are these Bollywood/satire cuts and then there are normal songs. These two parts do not cohere. Let’s take each part on its own. What do you make of the Bollywood/satire songs?

Tyler: I think they work, because they’re clever and often amusing.  She leans into the distress of being an also-ran in the music industry, but she doesn’t overplay the hand.

I also think you can hear these jams throughout Fiona Apple’s Fetch The Bolt Cutters, and Fetch The Bolt Cutters is a fantastic.

I’m not saying Funstyle is up there with that album.  But it is far, far better than I expected.

Norman: They work for one listen through, but the returns are diminishing for me. It gets grating, weird, and doesn’t mesh with the rest of the album. I could reduce Funstyle to a longish EP, and be quite happy.

Tyler: I can see that, completely.  Would you listen to it before or after Somebody’s Miracle?

Norman: Before. The regular songs are better and I can always hit skip on the others.

Tyler: That’s cheating!

Full album or bust in this hypothetical.

Norman: Oh…ugh. Then I guess it would be Somebody’s Miracle. I can tolerate that one from beginning to end.

I have to survive, Tyler!

Tyler: Skip if you must.

Norman: Okay, Soberish. A lot of people seemed to see this as a true return to form for Phair. What do you think? Does it live up to her 90s level of greatness?

Tyler: I love Soberish.  Love love love it.  It sounds nothing like Exile. It sounds very little like most of her catalog.  It’s layered, it’s catchy as hell, it’s got personality—and melancholy—for days. It’s what one could grievously call “adult-oriented power-pop.”  Another reinvention, a serious triumph.

Norman: High praise. 

I don’t think I can go quite so high. I’ve tried Soberish a number of times, including a couple of listens to prepare for this conversation. It’s good. Some of it is catchy and the lyrics are top notch, but it hasn’t gotten its hooks into me. For some reason, I never have a big desire to come back to it even though I feel like it’s an objectively good record, even the kind of album I should love.

Tyler: Perhaps with time, perhaps not.  Either way, it’s gotta leave you curious about what hand she might show us next.

Norman: Definitely. What were the standout tracks for you?

I love “Hey Lou,” “Sheridan Road,” and “Soul Sucker.”

Tyler: “Sheridan Road” is such a lovely quiet tune.  So beautifully Chicago, for anybody who’s ever made that drive south from Sheridan along Lake Shore Drive into downtown.  Her clear love for that city shines through without becoming sentimental.

Norman: Yeah, there’s no doubt that song pulled at my nostalgia.

Tyler: “Ba Ba Ba,” I especially adore.  Sweet romantic scenes upended by a tempo-change end to the relationship.  “All the sunflowers’ faces bow down ‘cause they’re grieving for the sound of the end of us.” What a touch.

“Bad Kitty” is ballsy as hell and irresistible.  “Hey Lou,” terrific.  I could really find a way to salute each of these tunes.

Norman: I was thinking about “Bad Kitty.” That sauciness brings me back to the old Liz.

What do you think she’ll do next? It’s fascinating to me that she has built some friendships with newer artists like Snail Mail. I wouldn’t mind seeing her do a collaboration with someone like Soccer Mommy.

My favorite newish artist right now is Waxahatchee, but I’m not sure they would fit together stylistically.

Tyler: You’re schooling me on recent releases.

Norman: I think you would like Waxahatchee. Try her album Saint Cloud.

Tyler: Did I ever tell you that I saw Liz live, late ’18/early’19, in Cincinnati at a very old theater called the 20th Century?

Norman: I stupidly passed up the chance to see her in Cleveland this past December. It would have been a four hour drive. I wimped out. She was playing Exile in its entirety.

Tyler: You silly goose.

Norman: I feel like a fool.

What would you like to see her do next?

Tyler: I’m game for whatever she’s got.  Further stylistic expansion, throwback rawer sound, something otherwise unpredictable.

Norman: She’s planning on writing a second memoir. I read Horror Stories this year and loved it. I think the new one is supposed to be called Fairy Tales.

Tyler: I think we’re in agreement here, then.  Liz Phair including and beyond that self-titled album: righteous.

Norman: I may not like Somebody’s Miracle or Funstyle much, but she’s allowed to do whatever she wants and she’s an unbelievably cool person.

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