Liz Phair never expected fame.
She was a college girl at Oberlin in the late ’80s, hanging around her friends in the music scene and studying visual arts. She had grown up playing the guitar and writing music but didn’t think of herself as a performer.
Her junior year, she spent away from Oberlin, interning in New York for visual artist Nancy Spero. In her tiny New York apartment bedroom, she recorded some cassette tapes under the name “Girly-Sound,” showcasing her unique blend of minimalist sounds and unapologetically blunt lyricism.
Some years later, Phair was catapulted into fame when her tapes got passed around the Chicago indie music scene and eventually caught the attention of the Matador Records executive.
A few of these tapes, like “F–k and Run,” made up her debut album “Exile in Guyville,” a snarling and honest proclamation of love and sex that became one of the top indie albums of the year.
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A year after the release of the 1993 debut album that made Phair a feminist indie-rock icon, she released her sophomore album “Whip-Smart,” which unflinchingly wove across the same emotional landscape but with a more refined sound.
“‘Guyville’ was stuck and pounding on a door,” Phair said in an interview with The New York Times. “With (Whip-Smart), suddenly I had a vista. Where I was stationary, watching what was going on around me, this time I’m going somewhere because I’m up and out of it.”
The album served as a transition into adulthood — the adolescent vulnerability and unapologetic explicitly from her first album turning into a more nuanced portrayal of relationships, love and sex.
Though her brutal honesty and playful vulgarity were still there, “Whip-Smart” conveyed a sense of maturity and self-reflection.
The shift in tone likely reflected Phair’s challenges as she navigated her sudden fame. Following the monumental success of “Exile in Guyville” — which not only sold over 200,000 copies but also topped the Village Voice’s 1993 rock critic’s poll — Phair grappled with the daunting expectation to maintain her status as a “voice of a generation.”
“Basically (the record label) wanted me to be public; I wanted to be private,” Phair said. “All these people wanted me to be really big and I felt like this tiny pea in the center of all this chaos. I didn’t want this success. I kept thinking, ‘This is wrong. Why do all these people want it so much more than I do.’”
The songs on “Whip-Smart” reflect Phair’s complexity, some tracks fueled by simple melodies and undemanding lyrics, while others are brazen confessions of sexual vulgarity.
It’s clumsily honest, shamelessly cocky and undeniably self-aware, with a crisp sound and unconventional verses that directly reflect Phair’s fearless individuality and sharp wit.
“I met him at a party and he told me how to drive him home,” Phair deadpans on “Chopsticks,” with a scattered piano chord looping in the background. “He said he liked to do it backward, I said, ‘That’s just fine with me/ That way we can f–ck and watch TV.’”
It’s simple and witty in its nonchalance, taking on a conversational tone as sparse instrumentation reflects a depth within Phair’s lust-driven voice.
“‘Exile in Guyville’ was a more sexual album,” Phair said in an interview with Rolling Stone. “(Whip-Smart) is the opposite, an emotionally based album that ended up being more sexual. I made a rock fairy tale. A little myth journey — from meeting the guy, falling for him, getting him and not getting him, going through the disillusionment period, saying ‘f–k it’ and leaving, coming back to it.”
Phair’s minimalist alternative pop-rock sound is layered with sparse guitar chords and nasally vocals, her voice alternating from the gruff low register that best suits her to a more melodic, higher range that adds texture and depth.
“And oh, all the tears/ In four tiny years/ Well, look at me, I’m frightening my friends,” Phair sings plainly on “Crater Lake,” her voice swaddling the rhythmic beat of the drum and jangly guitar melody.
The album continues to stand as a testament to Phair’s artistry 30 years later — it’s an intimate, unconventional ballad of love and sexuality that bubbles over with Phair’s playful persona, witty humor and blunt sensuality while cementing her legacy as one of the queens of indie rock.
