Mesmerizing
Liz Phair In New York City, October 8, 1998
CONCERT DETAILS
FAN PERSPECTIVE
The following description of Liz's performance in New York City is
courtesy of the Ann Powers
(taken from the Monday, October 12, 1998 edition of the New York
Times):
Subject: A Woman's Perspective And a Man's Prerogative
Date: Monday, October 12, 1998
Liz Phair loves to hear a crowd roar for her. "I wish I could
tape-record everything you guys are saying out there," she said, grinning
hugely, at Roseland on Thursday night. Then she lifted her slender arms in
a come-on gesture to get her fans to yell more. She adores that sound, not
because it signals solidarity or whatever else women in rock are supposed
to champion, but just because it turns her on.
Ms. Phair has been accused of many things since releasing her debut
album, Exile in Guyville (Matador / Capitol), in 1993. Vanity is
certainly one of them. Evidence of it abounded at Roseland, starting with
a preperformance slide show that captured Ms. Phair in myriad poses:
baring her breasts, smooching some guy, guzzling a beer. Watching the
images revolve to a soundtrack of her favorite pop hits was like getting
stuck between the traslucent pages of her favorite photo album.
Yet those who begrudge the Oberlin-educated singer her prettiness and
privilege don't see that her sense of entitlement is exactly the point.
This projection of a big, bad self defines her artistry. Very few women
have acted so sure that they had a right to be rock stars. Many have
fought for that status, stolen it or changed it to fit them. But Ms. Phair
simply spoke the language.
She gained notoriety for using dirty words, but her voice mattered
more. Adopting a dry, conversational tone, she rejected the female
singer's usual aura of vulnerability working toward strength. She sang
about her needs as if they were important, and not only to her. Her
subjects, mostly love botched, were familiar. But her ability to assume a
man's prerogative while maintaining a female perspective was new.
At Roseland, she fulfilled another aspect of her promise by claiming
the role of band leader. Gone was the awkwardness of her early live
performances, which contrasted so strangely with her recordings. Defiantly
glamorous in strappy high heels, she led her five-piece group with
exhilarated poise. She played inventive rhythm guitar: when she removed
the instrument to better vocalize, she hit every tough note.
New selections from whitechocolatespaceegg, her latest album,
show Ms. Phair's growth as a songwriter; she fleshes out characters other
than herself now. Her music has matured, too, into feisty mainstream
power pop. New versions of her earlier songs revealed that this big sound
always lurked within them.