RØB Severson (jabberwocky) wrote,
RØB Severson

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Exile In Shitsville, Or: The Incessant Ramblings Of A Staid And Pretentious Indie Rocker

The other night at Cat's, Autumn was supposed to sing some song called "Why Can't I" but she sorta f-ed it and didn't go the distance like a trooper (there's no respect in me for that sort of behavior), and since I was sitting next to her, she passed the torch. I was prob'ly even less familiar with the song than she was, but somehow I recognized the choral hook, and since the karaoke game we were playing doesn't register pronunciation, just pitch and duration, and furthermore, the lyrics are plainly displayed on the screen, I figured no song could really be too tough. Indeed I ended up scoring very high (THE TRUE TEST OF A KARAOKE CHAMPION--not only going the distance, but scoring high points, whether on the video game, or with the crowd, upon singing a song with which one is somewhat or entirely unfamiliar), and since the song seemed sorta familiar, I tried asking around as to who the artist was--I was convinced it was just some chest-beateriffic radio tripe, as that's what it sounded like, and as I was pretty sure I'd heard my co-workers listening to it on one of their internet radio stations before. Imagine my disbelief when at first people were saying it was Liz Phair! "You silly people, of course that isn't Liz Phair," I said to them (and myself). I finally asked Cat, on account of I think she prob'ly has the best handle (besides perhaps Steve Kozel) on what's what about crappy radio pop, and she confirmed this entirely unimaginable codswallop that it was in fact Liz Phair! "Say it ain't so!" I told myself repeatedly. "Could a 1990s Indie Queen with such great melodic insight and lyrical honesty as Liz Phair truly have produced this absolute malarkey?" Surely not!

Well friends, today I was doing a bit of research in Professor AllMusic's lab at Internet University, and it is true: that was indeed a Liz Phair song. For lack of a better term, she "sold out," as Courtney tried to tell me during my scramble for an inkling of a notion that perhaps the general consensus and the truth did not, for once, match up. I am entirely sad to say that all evidence indicates that indeed Mrs. Phair has shed her Matador Records past for a Capitol contract Billboard Hit present. My oh my, what is the world coming to?

I fear there is nothing to do but put on Exile In Guyville and hope for the best. Is this the future of indie rock? I want no part of it!

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