This review of Liz Phair’s new album got me all nostalgic for Exile in Guyville.

I was an Exile devotee long before I identified as a feminist. (Even though in those years Phair wasn’t shy about her feminism.) I certainly didn’t think of Exile as a feminist statement. It was just good music. But the album was sort of my musical bridge from Pavement to riot grrrl—which was, I think, my bridge to feminism. So Exile has a special place in my music collection, even though my Phair fandom lasted only as long as she was signed to Matador Records.

I don’t have a problem with the trappings of her new(ish) grab for stardom. I wasn’t disappointed to see her writhing onstage in a leather miniskirt, or posing naked on an album cover. (Ah, those "fuck-me feminists.")

The review points out the real problem: Phair stopped writing good songs. Compare these Exile lyrics to some of those from her newer albums:

From Exile: I bet you fall in bed too easily with the beautiful girls who are shyly brave and you sell yourself as a man to save but all the money in the world is not enough.

From the newer albums: Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you / Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you and You can count on my love / With me you'll feel protected/ And you'll never be rejected.

Barf. Then she took the poorly written songs, and had them over-produced. The reviewer claims the new album is a bit better than Phair's recent efforts, but I won't be buying it. I will, however, be dusting off my copy of Exile in Guyville.