Saw Liz Phair at Neumo’s last night. Waited around until 9:30 to head downtown; inside club at 10. She came on about 10:30, played until 11:45. We were watching Saturday Night Live by midnight.
Didn’t enjoy the show as much as I’d hoped. Think it’s the fault of the songwriting. A persona who sounds refreshingly libidinous in the expression of female sexual desire, brutally honest about the vicissitudes of heterosexual hookups, on CD or the radio doesn’t translate well to live performance in a club with no chairs, only open floor. The music is mainly just a vehicle for the words, and only starts to rock out as the song ends, frustrating the consummation of dancing in a crowd.
Taken in a relatively large dose, the songs start to sound too much the same, Phair’s tone nasal and querulous. The groups of young female friends out together, sometimes with a stray boy or gay friend along, enjoyed it most, punching the air in grrl solidarity (the rockrgrl music conference was in town, maybe some of them ditched the associated events to come to Phair).
In such a crowd, I eventually started to feel exposed and out of place, realizing the subjectivity Phair validates is not one I can openly share. I’m embarrassed by a song like Supernova, especially when my wife jokinging throws a significant glance my way: in private I can enjoy the lust, in public I feel like the odd man out at confabulation of girlfriends. Maybe Rocketboy, with lyrics less extreme, would have worked better – but that’s from the Stealing Beauty soundtrack, not one of her own albums. Even the woman behind me was scandalized by the tadpole phantasy Rock Me.
The crowd called early for Fuck and Run, and Phair played it for her encore. I felt shamed by the confession, only too happy to head for the exit. Just like any other man, I guess.
Phair – that can’t be her real name, can it? Must be a plasticene adulteration of what should be Elizabeth the Fair. She certainly is good looking, in a somewhat hard-edged and angular way. She’d make a fine caricature. But there’s little seduction.
Maybe that’s the point. Perhaps a grrl could tell me.
