Exile In Guyville | Music Zeitgeist

October 5, 2008
Week Of Shows, Episode Nine

Liz Phair Performing Exile In Guyville in its Entirety - Again

Banished Castle Magic: Liz Phair performing Exile In Guyville. (photo by the author)

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s me. Did I wake you? Your cell went straight to voicemail, so…”

“What time is it?”

“Not that late. I just got home from a show. I know your iPhone gets crappy service so I figured your landline…”

“It’s one, on a Sunday. That’s late. Everyone’s cell is off.”

“Sorry. I was hoping you were up.”

(stifling a yawn)

“I am now.”

“Well, I can call you back, it’s stupid anyway…”

“No, it’s okay. What’s up?”

“This work thing, for the site? This ‘Week Of Shows…’ I’m sort of stuck. I mean, I went to Liz Phair tonight but I already wrote about her a few months ago. It’s going to be lame if I write her up again.”

“So don’t.”

“I don’t want to… But I bought my ticket way before this go-to-shows-every-night-for-a-week thing came about. I had to go. I wasn’t planning on reviewing it. And I’ve already written twice about this band mr. Gnome? I don’t know. I guess I kind of painted myself into a corner. You’re always good at figuring this kind of stuff out.”

(muffled noises)

“You there? Hello?”

“Yeah, no, I’m here. Why don’t you just go to Relax and write about whatever bludgeon metal band is playing.”

“I guess I could. I’m beat, though. And my ears won’t stop ringing – I’ve been to nine shows in the last seven days. Not sure Relax is the way to go right now. Plus, by the time I get over there…”

“So don’t write anything. It’s been a week. No one will care.”

“I’m kind of committed.”

“Sure, now you’re into commitment.”

“Funny.”

“So, how was the show?”

“Oh. Really, really good. Better than San Francisco. Much.”

“Did she do the one about the plane?”

“’Stratford-On-Guy?’ Of course she did. She played all of Exile. That was the point of the show.”

“Gee, I’m so glad I answered the phone.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came out. Anyway, ‘Stratford’ was one of the highlights. That and ‘Divorce Song.’ She did an incredible version of ‘Explain It To Me,’ too. Really moving, like she was contemplating it while she played. Tender.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty familiar with that one.”

“Right… I guess you told me that before, back when…”

(awkward silence)

“Sooo… Did she do the whole fake ‘I’m not prepared for this’ encore she did last time?”

“No, it was sort of cool. I mean, she did some of the same stuff… A couple new ones, which were okay, but then she totally killed it with ‘Supernova’ and finished with ‘Polyester Bride.’”

“Oh, that’s like my favorite!”

“I know, I know. I totally thought of you. That’s sort of why I called. I thought if you were up, maybe…”

“What?”

“You know, I just figured, if you were awake… It’s not that far.”

(more muffled noise)

“Wait, are you… Is there someone there?”

“What? No. That was my cat.”

“Your cat?”

“Look, I’m pretty tired. It was good to hear from you.”

“Well, maybe we could get together this week…”

“Yeah. You know, I’m sort of busy right now…work and stuff.”

“Okay, no, it’s cool. Just, um, when you get some time.”

“I’m glad you went to Liz. I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t.”

“You would have loved it. Listen, I wanted to tell you – ”

“Have a good night.”

“Wait – I wanted to say… I wish things had been different. I’ve been thinking, maybe we could… I miss you, you know? Hello. Hello?”

(dial tone)

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Good from Phair, Phair from Good: Liz Phair at the Fillmore
photo by the author

To me, Liz Phair will always be that mousy girl with dishwater hair from the neighborhood – the one who was the first to start drinking and who always smelled faintly of cigarettes and tuna.

One day she started hanging out with your brothers instead of your sisters and soon enough she was also the first girl to wear holes in the knees of her jeans.

What she lacked in looks and likability she made up for by muscling her way round with affected confidence. As a result, the boys eventually wanted her, the girls eventually hated her and she became the girl that you couldn’t forget.

On the eve of the 15^th year anniversary re-release of her landmark album, Exile In Guyville, Liz Phair took the stage at San Francisco’s Fillmore Auditorium to play that album in its entirety to a capacity house of devotees.

Recently liberated from a contentious relationship with Capitol Records, Phair’s first emancipated move was to oversee the long-rumored (and presumably lucrative) re-release of Exile on her new label, Dave Matthews’ singer/songwriter-friendly ATO Records. Celebrating that occasion with a handful of “performing Exile in its entirety” shows around the country, Phair was met by an audience in anticipation of a very special show.

Dressed in daisy dukes, tank top, leather jacket and hideous leggings, Phair unceremoniously strapped on her trademark cream-colored Fender Mustang and dove into “6’1”” for what would be the start of a frank if somewhat uninspired journey through the album which made her career.

To that end, she exhibited a true-to-form live presentation of Exile. Backed by a more than capable anonymous three-piece band, Phair kept everything simple, never straying from the original material. Unfortunately, this included most of the warbling vocals and weak guitar playing she first demonstrated on record 15 years ago. Though most musicians make noticeable technical and performance improvements over a decade and a half, Phair maintains much of the original general lack of proficiency that has plagued her career and kept much of the mainstream at bay, despite frequent press notices that she’s since had vocal training and overcome her notorious stage fright.

Of course with Phair and specifically with Exile, it’s never been about the chops. She burst onto the scene in the 90s with a ready-to-please audience awaiting the unabashed honesty and vulnerability she was willing to display in her songs. Standing apart from the throngs of cutesy corporate chick rockers and unwashed flannel-clad angsters, her music-as-a-confessional approach was enough to see her through the rest of the decade.

So though live performing has never been Phair’s forte, the aforementioned “6’1”” as well as “Never Said” were predictably good, as those “hits” have been staples of Phair’s live set for years. Surprising was a heartfelt version of “Explain It To Me,” which she prefaced by telling everyone if they bought the album re-release they could find out who the song was about on the bonus DVD documentary. A likewise tender “Canary” followed.

A nothing-special version of “Fuck And Run” would have been anticlimactic as a show closer, but with almost half of the album to go, the no-show Phair was lucky to have an audience do the heavy lifting for her, their enthusiastic singing carrying the song about compromise and yearning that’s made her so many fans over the years.

Likewise disappointing was a sexless version of “Flower,” which lacked any of the sincerity and coyness that had originally made it more significant than the “blowjob queen” label it birthed for her. Afterward, she tagged it as “the dirtiest song ever” to which the audience whooped in return — but Phair ought to spend some time with her son on MySpace to see what’s happened in 15 years since she asked to bang her would-be paramour in a canine manner.

The gears were also audibly rusty on numbers such as “Soap Star Joe” and “Mesmerizing” but she managed to bring everything home with a truly electrifying rendition of “Stratford-On-Guy,” — clearly the show’s highlight — which received thunderous applause.

After much stamping and whistling from the crowd, Phair returned to the stage, not very sheepishly apologizing for have no more songs on Exile to play and for being unprepared to play anything else (note: she played her supposedly unprepared encore at the other Exile shows around the country). Nonetheless, she capably crept through her Whip-smart opener “Chopsticks,” and a new untitled number which targeted her former label, Capitol Records (with a chorus to the effect of “ding dong, the witch is dead”). She finally reigned in the night by amicably butchering a solo version of “Polyester Bride,” laughing along with the crowd as she fumbled through the chords.

Littering the night with anecdotes about near-squat living (apparently at one point having been able to use her toilet and see Polish construction workers look up at her from renovating the floor below) and ruminating on a failed relationship and listening to The Rolling Stone’s Exile On Mainstream “over and over, in only a way a girl could understand,” Phair kept the audience engaged on a personal level if not a musical one — and that has always been her greatest strength.

Like that neighborhood girl masking her insecurities and shortcomings, Phair has first made her career as her own best press agent, purveyor of context which allowed her to endear herself to a listless cult in need of an icon. It’s a shame with her the songs always come second, because when we get honest glimpses of Liz Phair, she can be one of the most beautiful girls in the world.

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