Friday, November 5, 2010

I've never really understood

the bizarre synergy between Liz Phair and Keith Richards. Mainly because Richards has always seemed more myth than man to me-- you know, he's the large-than-life rock God sustaining a vampiric existence care of 4am speedballs and maybe/probably daily unicorn blood transfusions, and as much as Liz Phair rocks and rocks hard, her persona seems to be culled as a direct affront to the very sandbox in which Richards' plays. Sure, Phair's Exile in Guyville was a tribute (or was it more of a jab? or was it be BOTH? OMG FALLING DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE.. WHERE'S MY SPEEDBALL?!!) to the Stones' Exile on Main Street, but it also a painfully human bitch-out of the boy-owned world that she desperately wanted to enter and simultaneously wanted to destroy. I feel like circa 1993 Phair would call it a hate fuck.

Anyway, here is the Liz Phair of now reviewing Richards' biography.

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