Words fail to capture the importance of Liz Phair's 1993 debut, Exile In Guyville. I can only begin express my feelings towards the album via hand gestures and facial expressions. Have you ever had that transcendental moment alone on your bedroom floor, listening to that certain album with tears streaming down your cheeks? There's something very essential and not at all girly about the experience of being literally moved to tears by a work of music that speaks on such a personal level, you can't help but think it was written with you in mind. Exile In Guyville tore me to shreds. When I first laid ears upon Phair's splenetic snarl, all of my preconceived notions about communication and gender roles in relationships were challenged and shattered. Liz uses her sharp tongue and equally sharp brain to explore natural human impulses. Her narrative is unfiltered, uncensored, honest, raw. Exile In Guyville is an album that centers around themes of love and sex, with lyrics that are never safe or sentimental. The song that brought me to the brink was "Fuck And Run", which explores how destitute, how heartbreakingly bleak physical love is in the absence of genuine human connection. Liz has this wonderful way of making herself vulnerable yet retaining the ability to sound like she can kick your ass at any given moment. The album is uniformly lo-fi, full of scratchy guitars and the low, almost-masculine tonality of Liz's voice. Her music is where tough meets tender: she is opinionated, often angry, yet compassionate and introspective. Exile In Guyville became my adolescent spirit guide, helping me navigate this mine-strewn journey through its frank study of relationships, carnality and self-discovery. This is not a pretty album. It doesn't coddle, it doesn't preach and it's a must own for any teenage girl.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
I Love Liz.
Words fail to capture the importance of Liz Phair's 1993 debut, Exile In Guyville. I can only begin express my feelings towards the album via hand gestures and facial expressions. Have you ever had that transcendental moment alone on your bedroom floor, listening to that certain album with tears streaming down your cheeks? There's something very essential and not at all girly about the experience of being literally moved to tears by a work of music that speaks on such a personal level, you can't help but think it was written with you in mind. Exile In Guyville tore me to shreds. When I first laid ears upon Phair's splenetic snarl, all of my preconceived notions about communication and gender roles in relationships were challenged and shattered. Liz uses her sharp tongue and equally sharp brain to explore natural human impulses. Her narrative is unfiltered, uncensored, honest, raw. Exile In Guyville is an album that centers around themes of love and sex, with lyrics that are never safe or sentimental. The song that brought me to the brink was "Fuck And Run", which explores how destitute, how heartbreakingly bleak physical love is in the absence of genuine human connection. Liz has this wonderful way of making herself vulnerable yet retaining the ability to sound like she can kick your ass at any given moment. The album is uniformly lo-fi, full of scratchy guitars and the low, almost-masculine tonality of Liz's voice. Her music is where tough meets tender: she is opinionated, often angry, yet compassionate and introspective. Exile In Guyville became my adolescent spirit guide, helping me navigate this mine-strewn journey through its frank study of relationships, carnality and self-discovery. This is not a pretty album. It doesn't coddle, it doesn't preach and it's a must own for any teenage girl.
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