In 1993, Beavis and Butthead was a new show on MTV, Conan O’Brien got his very own late night slot, and the feel-good movie of the year, Schindler’s List, was released. It was also the year we heard of a new singer/songwriter from Chicago named Liz Phair. She was ballsy, and her debut album Exile in Guyville was forwardly feminist, mocking of the Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main St. and also of her position as a female in the music industry. She had attitude, and sang songs like “F--- and Run” about being sick of one night stands.

Exile in Guyville is still on the top of “Best Albums Ever” lists everywhere, but Phair was never quite able to create an album as loved since. Her second (Whip-Smart) and third (whitechocolatespaceegg) were fan favorites, but not as well received by critics. After a short hiatus, she did the unthinkable in the judgmental land of indie rock — she hired the songwriting trio, The Matrix, and put out a major label self-titled album of radio ready songs like “Why Can’t I?” and “Extraordinary.” There was a Liz Phair backlash, and she’s been the poster child for being a sell out since the early 2000s.

But now Liz Phair is back on the radar in the best of ways – it’s the 15th anniversary of Exile in Guyville and Phair is reissuing the album complete with a “making-of” documentary DVD on June 24. She’s also playing the entire album live and acoustic in New York City on June 25, and is announcing similar dates in Chicago and San Francisco in the near future. … continue reading

One of life’s great shared injustices is the yearbook photo. We all had to get them. And — unless they’ve somehow magically found a cure for awkwardness, geekiness and general dorkitude since I was a teenager — most of us dreaded them. For whatever reason, be it bad skin, bad clothes or the steadfast yet ultimately misguided belief in the transformative properties of big bangs, many of us look back at our school pictures and cringe. Or, at the very least, giggle. But you know what? Celebrities had to get them too, just like us mere mortals. Now that is what I call justice.

So, let’s play a little game called Name That Teenager. It’ll be fun; like being back in high school, but already knowing what everyone will look like at the class reunion. Let the games begin:

Among them you have a Rock star, an Alien hunter, an alphaBette and the possible next president of the United States of America.

Give up? … continue reading