Liz Phair live!
Liz Phair
Vic Theatre, Chicago
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
An unintentionally ironic sign greeted Liz Phair fans Tuesday night. Anyone approaching from the north was reminded why they were clamoring to hear her first album performed in its entirety: “LIZ PHAIR — SOLD OUT.”
The divisive, former Winnetka/Wicker Park debutante — an ancestry she jokingly referred to as “good girl/bad girl” — has embarked on an identity-makeover campaign with the 15th-anniversary reissue of her debut album, Exile In Guyville (Matador/ATO), as its axis. While she hasn’t fully 12-stepped the sins of her last two albums (the reissue’s accompanying DVD has her playing the victim/bargaining chip between Matador and then-bankroller Capitol Records), Phair’s Guyville recreation was met rapturously by a capacity Vic audience.
What originally made her so divisive wasn’t her brazen quest for the brass ring, but the album that would encapsulate Tuesday’s performance. A delightful mix of virgin/whore/tease/tormentor conflicts dressed in a mousy, indie rock demeanor, it sparked a firestorm of debate and drew lines in Chicago’s self-righteous early-’90s scene. The way its creator spun it, however, altered it subtly but notably.
Fifteen years or not, Phair and a three-member band romped youthfully on “6’1” and “Help Me Mary,” ripping the album from its lo-fi cloth and injecting it with big-drum arena sound. She tried to actually sing “Dance Of The Seven Veils,” which foiled the sing-songy, aloof falsetto and drew more attention to the c-word than necessary — an untimely reminder that what was shocking in ’93 is now quaint. Ramping back up with “Never Said,” it became apparent that while she has overcome her stage fright, Phair and her band have the stage presence of wet rags — rarely moving or peeling their faces from their fretboards.
So it was unexpected to be walloped by “Canary,” which she expertly handled with the lights down (save Sun-Times critic Jim DeRogatis now-ubiquitous laptop glowing from the press balcony). It provided a strategic, mid-set lift for “Mesmerizing” to dance on its sassy guitar figure and a bass-less “Fuck And Run” to shimmy. Of Phair’s many characteristics, underheralded is deft rhythm playing, which buoyed “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and “Divorce Song” to offset her deadpan delivery.
For her supposedly unrehearsed encore, she trod carefully into Guyville‘s aftermath; “Chopsticks” drew a roar with its reference to anal sex, though “Polyester Bride” has wilted like an old bouquet. More than anything, the encore underscored the perpetual struggle Phair has with her image: pursuing the former infers unwillingness to grow, though the latter’s track ended in Sherman ties. Square one can only be hospitable for so long, however — she’ll have to be more careful next time she flaps her wings and flies.
— Steve Forstneger
Category: Live Reviews, Weekly
