Three Imaginary Girls

Seattle's Indie-Pop Press – Music Reviews, Film Reviews, and Big Fun

So, for those of you who follow iPod Roulette regularly, you should that it was only yesterday that I asked "Why can't you be nicer to me?", to which Betsy Boston proceeded to point out all of my grammatical foibles in the commentary like so much dirty laundry freed from the hamper to wreak havoc across the city. Now, whether she just employed some hitherto unknown and underused version of "nice," we may never know, however, it did point out an important thing: grammar.

Now, I love grammar as much as the next guy, with my copy of Strunk and White's The Elements of Style on my office bookshelf, so to then be assaulted by Liz Phair's famous refrain 'I never said nothing', was, well, music to my grammaticizing ears. Remember, back in the day when we all liked Liz Phair. I mean really liked? Alright, maybe not all of us – I got my copy of Exile in Guyville because my friend Jack threw his copy in the trash. I spied it sitting in the trash bin, and being the thrifty New England (and cheap punk) that I am/was, I said "can I have this" to which his reply was "Sure, it sucks." (Jack is better now, by the way). Here we just get Liz, with her voice in her full-on sultry and sexy purr mixed with guitar just dripping off her chops like freshly spilled blood from the kill. To me, at the time, this was new, exciting and crush-producing.

Of course, just like the old high school crushes that become advertising executives who are reeeally into Jason Mraz, Liz Phair is no longer what I remember from Guyville. Was it all an act? What does Nash Kato (from Urge Overkill, who took the now-infamous cover photo of Exile in Guyville) think of his friend's transformation into Avril's "hip" aunt? Who knows. And that's where we're left, remembering the good ol' days when Liz Phair was cool and feeling sad that she's, well, as gone as My So-Called Life and Crystal Pepsi. P.S. (The teaser was for you, Betsy! Enjoy!)