Liz Phair is a woman of many guises: She's been a girl's girl and a boy's girl, a talented songwriter, a shameless self-promoter, an outspoken feminist, a cover girl, a poser, a Village Voice Pazz & Jop Poll topper -- and a dream interview who loves to talk about herself. When she released her debut, Exile in Guyvile, in 1993, she sang about love, sex and everything in between in ways that rang painfully true to any girl who heard the record. But her frank lyrics also appealed to men -- earning the upper-middle-class gal from the John Hughes-style Illinois suburbs a reputation for being one of those good girls who do. Her deep-dish, nasal voice, standard Stones-derived rock fare, and blond-cheerleader good looks made it easy for her to gain wider acceptance (example: a Rolling Stone cover) when she released the half-million-selling Whip-Smart in 1995. Her words have always been easy to relate to, her prettiest-girl-in-school appearance perhaps less so.
Three years later, Phair is back with whitechocolatespaceegg which arrives in stores Tuesday and may disappoint anyone hoping for more songs about fucking. In the past few years, Phair, 31, has gotten married, had a kid (Nicholas, now one and a half) and mellowed out -- a little. TONY checked in with the new mom, who's now touring with Lilith Fair, at a restaurant in midtown.
Time Out New York: What was the delay with
whitechocolatespaceegg?
Liz Phair: First of all, getting married and having a baby took
a couple of years out of my life, and my focus was not music. I was making
music the whole time, but I can't pretend that I was making good music. I
was absorbed with being pregnant and then having him the first year. Then
it was because I wasn't sure what kind of album I wanted to make. Because
I was removed from the industry, I got very esoteric. I had my head in the
clouds musically a lot.
TONY: Hormones.
LP: "She's whacked. She's a mom now -- it's over."
[Laughs] It wasn't until I got my manager and he pulled my album
together and showed me how to finish it. I had been like, "I can do it
myself, I know I can," but I couldn't. Once I had a baby, I thought, I
don't have to do what the hell I'm supposed to do. I'd been so working
under this idea that I had to be what everyone wanted me to be.
TONY: Which is what?
LP: I don't know, like "indie-rock chick who says dirty words
and came from a good background." I was so concerned with that image
during Whip-Smart, and it took changing my life to say, "You can do
whatever your heart desires."
TONY: Is there something about your image that you can't
change?
LP: Probably. I always watch Julia Robert's career, because I
went to camp with her, so she's my one celeb that I've known. When she did
My Best Friend's Wedding, it was "Oh, Julia, you're back with your
long, pretty hair, and you're doing a romantic comedy again." The
Pelican Brief was excellent, but they couldn't [accept] her until she
got back to her role. I'm so freaked out by that. She spent six years
doing different things, until she sat back down in her little Pretty
woman thing.... I'm grossed out by that. If that's the system, I
don't mind bucking the system.
TONY: Is this a weird time to be a rock musician? The
climate is so...
LP: Singerly.
TONY: I was going to say that there's a lot of enthusiasm for
electronic stuff. But maybe it's just a critic thing.
LP: It's a critic thing, because it's the most interesting
experimental stuff happening right now. But what's still viable and
selling is always viable and selling. I don't think the country moves with
the critics as much as people think it does. I was going to say
it's hard to be a rock musician in a climate of such amazing
songstress/singers. Lilith Fair showcases this -- the diva is back, the
chanteuse. That's where I don't fit in. I wish I had that kind of
capacity to sing, take my voice and fill an auditorium and then bring it
down and manipulate it like that. That's where I feel inadequate.
TONY: Are you happy with your new album?
LP: Yeah, I was in love with it for a long time, but now I'm
getting tired of it. My friends play it I'll come home and find my husband
cleaning up to it, and I find myself being proud of it.
TONY: It seems like the lyrics aren't as direct as they used
to be. The first two songs in particular -- I was reading the lyric sheet
thinking, What the hell!?!
LP: That second song, "Big Tall Man", is probably what you're
thinking of. That was actually when I was pregnant. I was reading all
these books, because you can't drink coffee, you can't do drugs, you can't
do anything. You are so sober it hurts. I got into this intuition
book, trying to channel your deeper self and dreams and stuff, 'cause you
have all these vivid dreams when you're pregnant. The book said to channel
someone and write down all these exercises. That's sort of what writing
songs to me is anyway -- regurgitating some subconscious thing that
surprises you. So I channeled Scott Litt, my record producer, and then I
read him the little poem, and he's like, "That's your song right there."
In a way, I'm more honest right now. I shouldn't say this -- my
managers told me not to say this -- but a lot of Guyville is
bullshit, total made-up fantasy crap. That stuff didn't happen to me, and
that's what made writing it interesting. But this stuff did happen to me
and is part of my life. I couldn't spit it out directly, because it was so
real. What you're seeing is the difference between when I didn't have a
life, my made-up life, and trying to make it real so I felt like I had a
life...
TONY: You didn't have a life?
LP: I wasn't connecting with my friends. I wasn't connecting
with relationships. I was in love with people who couldn't care less about
me. I was yearning to be part of a scene. I was in a posing kind of mode,
yearning to have things happen for me that weren't happening. So I wanted
to make it seem real and convincing. I wrote the whole album for a couple
people to see and know me. But now I'm in touch with myself and I have a
very full life -- maybe too full -- and it's hard to take out the
complicated emotions and relationships. Now I try to pull back from them a
little bit and make them more fantastical, because they're so real and
painful in some ways. So it's not, unfortunately, with the audience in
mind. It's about the creative process of being a writer.