whitechocolatespaceegg

Four years on, she's still visiting her confessional  [B]Liz[/B] chats to a bartender about dating, [B]Liz[/B] muses about liking a complete bastard  but where she once would have rivalled [B]Cat

whitechocolatespaceegg

[a]Liz Phair[/a] was the post-grunge golden girl. Stripped-down tunes charmed the college rockers, brutal confessionals placated the riot grrrl militia while a habit of getting nekkid buckled the knees of the lo-fi community. One Rolling Stone cover later, stardom beckoned. Or rather, marriage and motherhood beckoned and for want of a less patronising reason, 1999 brings us a 'maturer' Liz Phair.



Four years on, she's still visiting her confessional - Liz chats to a bartender about dating, Liz muses about liking a complete bastard - but where she once would have rivalled Cat Power, she now sounds like Belly on a mission from REM. No bad thing - the likes of 'Uncle Alvarez' and 'Go On Ahead' are proof of that. Unfortunately, Liz's old lo-fi aesthetics used to give her sixth-form ramblings an endearing innocence. With their new alt-rock sheen, however, the likes of,[I] "All these babies are born/Like a field full of poppies"[/I] can no longer be excused.



Our Liz knows this and alongside all the personal diaries now lurk lesser tales of big men ('Big, Tall Man'), filthy money ('Shitloads Of Money') and the horror that is the bikini line. All pleasant but to be honest, a zillion years away from why anyone really gave a damn in the first place. The new Sleater-Kinney album is out now.

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