Liz Phair - Liz Phair

As chronicled by Tom last Friday, Exile In Guyville made Liz Phair an indie rock hero. The album blazed new trails: a woman invading (and mostly besting) a boys-club genre, addressing the thrills and spills of modern sexuality in bracingly honest fashion, delivered in the context of short stories deftly disguised as songs. She was a blowjob queen for the rest of us. Almost exactly 10 years later — and 10 years ago today — Phair released a record that undid most of that goodwill, turning her into a pariah among the audience that once heralded her as a genius. In its own way, though, that legendarily derided self-titled offering was as much of a trailblazer as Exile.

That’s not to say it was anywhere near as good. Liz Phair was a weird record, and not weird in the art-damaged sense Phair’s indie rock fan base might have hoped for; “awkward” is a better word for it. There were flashes of Phair’s fearlessness and barbed wit, sometimes attached to melodies that ingratiated themselves immediately. But the good stuff mingled with garbage lyrics (“Oh, baby, know what you’re like?/ You feel like my favorite underwear”) and glossy boilerplate Top 40 production that couldn’t have been farther from Exile’s roughshod minimalism. The A.V. Club called it an identity crisis — “Even Phair doesn’t seem to know who she is anymore” — but Phair repeatedly insisted it was exactly the record she wanted to make.

The album was cribbed from three separate recording sessions, which partly explains the lack of focus [1]. First, Phair and her touring band cut some tracks with Pete Yorn producer R. Walt Vincent, but not enough for an album. Next, at the suggestion of Capitol Records president Andy Slater, Phair wrote and recorded some songs with Michael Penn, but neither she nor the label was satisfied with the results. When Phair asked for funding for another round of recording, Slater agreed on the condition that she work with the Matrix, the production team behind hits by Avril Lavigne, Jason Mraz, and Hilary Duff. Those sessions yielded the most blatant radio bait of Phair’s career, and neither she nor Capitol made any effort to hide the crossover motivations.

That went over with Phair’s fan base about as well as Ted Danson in blackface at the Friars Club. To call Liz Phair a polarizing record among critics would wrongfully imply that there was a faction who vocally supported it. To be fair, the disc scored a handful of good grades: Entertainment Weekly declared it “an honestly fun summer disc,” and Robert Christgau gave it an A in the Village Voice, explaining, “she further insults the indie world by successfully fusing the personal and the universal, challenging lowest-common-denominator values even as it fellates them.” But even most of the positive reviews read more like faint praise. Rolling Stone shrugged, “Phair is a fine lyricist, and although she’s lost some musical identity, she’s gained potential Top Forty access.” E!’s relatively friendly review said Phair “flirts with being Sheryl Crow-y bland now.”

Most reviewers didn’t fuck around with such passive aggression. The UK website No Ripcord called it “the ultimate middle finger.” All Music Guide lamented, “she makes a long-delayed stab at superstardom, glamming herself up like a Maxim MILF of the Month and inexplicably pitching herself somewhere between Sheryl Crow and Avril Lavigne…” The Guardian complained, “Where she used to be smart and provocative, Phair has become crass and bloated, her lyrics crude and her image apparently a grotesque exercise in self-parody.” Stylus gave it an F: “The tragedy is that Phair is wholly complicit in this utter waste of talent.” Most famously, the record earned a 0.0 from Pitchfork, whose Matt LeMay fumed, “Ten years on from Exile, Liz has finally managed to achieve what seems to have been her goal ever since the possibility of commercial success first presented itself to her: to release an album that could have just as easily been made by anybody else.” The only releases that scored worse on Metacritic that year were Puddle Of Mudd’s Life On Display and Limp Bizkit’s Results May Vary.

There was an overwhelming sense of betrayal in these reviews. This was personal. (Note LeMay’s use of Phair’s first name, as though they were pals.) Over the phone from L.A. last weekend, Phair remembered fielding interviews from furious scribes: “It was like therapy for these reviewers. They were angry at me. They were upset … I really felt like I had to be this kind of therapist for these people, and let them vent their frustration at me.” To critics who had embraced Phair as the leading lady of indie rock, releasing Michelle Branch soundalikes was a heel turn worthy of Dylan plugging in. She went from a messiah to a leper. “It was about me representing a movement for them or representing a type of person who was anti-establishment, who wouldn’t be party to such mainstream-y music. They felt like I was a political candidate in a way.”

Phair told me she didn’t want to bear the burden of every album being an important artistic statement. From her perspective, she was just showing off a different side of the same person, a woman who could wear Chucks and jeans at the dive bar, then slip on a designer dress for her mother’s garden party the next day (her example). “I just felt like, big picture, it’s music,” she said. “Really, if you don’t like it, don’t buy it, don’t listen to it. But don’t let it give you an ulcer, you know?”

Phair’s analysis is astute. It would be dishonest to reduce the critique of that 2003 album to mere anti-pop bias, because some primary criticisms of the record run much deeper than that, and they ring true: Yeah, “H.W.C.” is a dumbed-down version of Exile’s sexcapades, and yeah, there’s a lot of filler. There are legitimate reasons this record didn’t make her a star. But many of the reviews read like Facebook screeds from spurned lovers — dispatches from the heart, not the brain. Critics felt like Phair was slumming. Why not leave this kind of thing to lesser talents? She had masterpieces to make. Mim Udovitch’s insightful review at Slate summed up Liz Phair succinctly: It’s “not so much a very bad record as it is a record about which it’s easy to say very bad things.”

Phair’s pop pandering offended her old fans, but frankly, other than the aforementioned “Favorite” (as in “underwear”), the Matrix-produced songs are the best on the record. “Rock Me,” in which Phair serenades a youthful lover with lines like “I want to play Xbox on your floor,” doubles as a sequel to Exile’s romantic foibles and a playful cougar prequel to Lana Del Rey’s “Video Games” [2]. Opening number “Extraordinary” sounds like it emerged from a state-of-the-art songwriting machine, mostly in a good way. Lead single “Why Can’t I,” which could have easily been written for Avril, soars nonetheless and bears Phair’s stamp in the form of the foul-mouthed outburst, “We haven’t fucked yet but my head’s still spinning” [3]. It’s not epochal stuff, but I’m not turning it off if it comes on the radio either. There’s no way the reaction would have been so visceral had anybody else been behind the mic.

That said, it’s hard to imagine any indie musician taking so much flack today for going pop. Just a year after Liz Phair dropped, Kelly Clarkson’s factory-built “Since U Been Gone” was accruing rave reviews and indie rock tributes [4]. Since then, critical thought and underground taste have transformed so much that, as Grantland’s Steven Hyden pointed out, indie blogs were tripping over each other to post the new Mariah Carey song last month. The Village Voice critics poll, Pazz + Jop, still an accurate barometer of critical consensus, named “Call Me Maybe” the best single of 2012. Also in the Top 10: Country-pop superstar Taylor Swift, who would have the music press gargling “Why Can’t I” like the mint Listerine it is if she released it as a single tomorrow. Pop stars including Katy Perry, Ke$ha, and even Justin Bieber merit serious critical adulation, whereas dismissing their kind used used to be a given. As Hyden tweeted, “Hipsters like Justin Timberlake and Beyonce in 2013, not the National. Please adjust your jokes accordingly.”

It’s not just fans and critics embracing pop, but artists too. If you’re a hot new underground act, it’s just as likely you make dance-pop as post-punk; the likes of Charli XCX, Jessie Ware, and Ellie Goulding get at least as much blog burn as Waxahatchee, White Lung, and Savages. Hip-hop and R&B have become the vanguard — Kanye West is our new Pink Floyd, you know. (Speaking of blurring the lines between mainstream and underground …) Furthermore, the concept of selling out no longer seems to raise hackles outside of certain DIY circles. Kurt Vile ruffled some feathers with pull quotes like, “I definitely think about success and I crave making more money,” and, “In this day and age, ’punk ideals’ are totally irrelevant,” but there’s an underlying understanding that the industry is crumbling and musicians gotta get paid somehow. Nobody is shitting on Icona Pop for making the leap to the Top 40. For indie audiences, making a break for the mainstream is no longer betrayal; it’s aspirational.

None of this is news, and that’s the point. In 2013, poptimism is the air we breathe. Why that happened is a complicated argument for another essay; just know that when the underground made its pilgrimage to pop, Liz Phair was already there waiting.

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[1] In our interview, Phair cited splicing together material from different sessions with different producers as one of the ways this album was ahead of its time. That practice hasn’t really taken root in rock — bands still usually work with one producer, as opposed to pop, rap and dance projects that often mix and match producers — so it seems more like evidence of Phair leading an indie exodus toward pop than evidence of her changing the way rock records were made.
 


[2] Phair defended Lana Del Rey in a Wall Street Journal op-ed last year: “Let me break it down for you: she’s writing herself into existence. She’s giving herself a part to play because, God knows, no one else will and she wants to matter in this life. As far as I can tell, it’s working.”
 


[3] LeMay’s Pitchfork review suggests you could “change” (’fucked’) to ’kissed’ and stick a 16-year-old girl in front of the mic and no one could tell the difference,” but he’s off base. That “fuck” means something. Replace “fuck” with “kiss” in “Fuck And Run,” and you’d have a kiddie song too.
 


[4] Yes, Ted Leo was nodding at the shared riff between “Since U Been Gone” and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ “Maps,” but his cover seems to come from a place of admiration.

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Comments (42)
  1. LeMay’s Pitchfork review suggests you could “change” (‘fucked’) to ‘kissed’ and stick a 16-year-old girl in front of the mic and no one could tell the difference,” but he’s off base. That “fuck” means something. Replace “fuck” with “kiss” in “Fuck And Run,” and you’d have a kiddie song too.

    Ha! Except “Kiss and Run” would make no sense…as “fuck and run” is a phrase that people use and “kiss and run” is something that no one would plausibly say (except as euphemism). Alongside lyrics like “You got up out of bed / You said you had a lot of work to do…” sex is endemic the narrative of the song. I mean, the song STARTS with the narrator waking up in bed the morning after (“I woke up alarmed”). In the other song, the whole sexual element is just tacked on.

  2. Interesting article.

    I think its very astute and relevant. As the article points out, selling out, in the indie world no longer means anything. A band that would have been run out of town and drawn and quartered for doing a coca cola or mcdonalds commercial, nowadays that sort of thing is expected and not a big deal.

    Secondly, I also think indie and the mainstreams continued moving closer to each other accounts for the shared love of pop and mainstream artists.

    Theres no doubt JT, Beyonce, Taylor and whoever else put out fantastic music, and Since U Been Gone could legitimately be called the song of the decade.

    The lines are blurry, and most people are willing and able to listen to Call Me Maybe or Someone I Used To Know and walk away from them saying that they are brilliant earworms.

    Who else beyond JT, Beyonce, and Taylor has bridged the mainstream-indie divide?

  3. Every summer, I go through the same sequential shuffle of YouTube searches: “Why Can’t I” by Liz Phair, “It’s About Time” by Lillix and “So Yesterday” by Hillary Duff. It’s ritual.

    Personally, I think poptimism is something that has more to do with age than it does an overall shift in criticism. The demo who were kids growing up with iTunes singles downloads rather than buying albums and not knowing a time where a band like Vampire Weekend might not have made it up from the underground 15, 20 years ago doesn’t see the fine line and struggle between indie and pop like people 30 and older do. Those kids are today’s younger staff members at tastemaker sites, which allows the same author who writes up DIY punk to declare S Club 7 the best English pop band of 2000s.

  4. Thank you so much for writing this. I don’t know if you saw my comment on Facebook about wanting to read some second looks about this album, but here it is. Me? I always liked this album, and in a year where I think Tegan & Sara put out my favorite album by going hardcore pop, I can’t help but feel at least a little validated.

  5. This is an album of bad music. Liz Phair simply lowered her standards before most critics did; just because this album might be embraced by critics if it were released today does not mean the album was ever misunderstood.

  6. I think its very astute and relevant. As the article points out, selling out, in the indie world no longer means anything. A band that would have been run out of town and drawn and quartered for doing a coca cola or mcdonalds commercial, nowadays that sort of thing is expected and not a big deal.

    Secondly, I also think indie and the mainstreams continued moving closer to each other accounts for the shared love of pop and mainstream artists.

    Theres no doubt JT, Beyonce, Taylor and whoever else put out fantastic music, and Since U Been Gone could legitimately be called the song of the decade.

    The lines are blurry, and most people are willing and able to listen to Call Me Maybe or Someone I Used To Know and walk away from them saying that they are brilliant earworms.

    Who else beyond JT, Beyonce, and Taylor has bridged the mainstream-indie divide?

  7. This is super interesting. It seems like a catchy pop song is more likely to be a “crossover hit” if it comes from the top. Taylor Swift or Ke$ha have no artistic integrity to lose, because they’re part of the commercial machine, so if they pump out an ear worm there’s less shame in a member of the “indie” audience admitting they like it than there is in defending an indie artist who is potentially pandering to a mainstream audience.

    I don’t really know what to make of this. Part of me is happy that “indie culture” is shedding its infamous, pretentious hipster stereotype by being open to decent mainstream pop songs, but the fact that there is so much truth behind the sentiment “Hipsters like Justin Timberlake and Beyonce in 2013, not the National” makes me pretty uncomfortable, despite the fact that I’m not even a big fan of the National. Part of me wants douchey elitism to prevail so there’s at least something counteracting the inane bullshit that occupies top 40 radio the majority of the time. I like to think that the rising indie demand contributes to the quality pop songs that come out, and thus blurs the indie-mainstream dichotomy to make popular music less insufferable in general. But that dichotomy still needs to exist for universally appealing artists like Kanye West to continue making music that is interesting. I could be completely off with my perception on this whole thing though.

    I dunno man.

  8. Secondly, I also think indie and the mainstreams continued moving closer to each other accounts for the shared love of pop and mainstream artists.

    Theres no doubt JT, Beyonce, Taylor and whoever else put out fantastic music, and Since U Been Gone could legitimately be called the song of the decade.

    The lines are blurry, and most people are willing and able to listen to Call Me Maybe or Someone I Used To Know and walk away from them saying that they are brilliant earworms.

    Who else beyond JT, Beyonce, and Taylor has bridged the mainstream-indie divide? Interesting article.

    I think its very astute and relevant. As the article points out, selling out, in the indie world no longer means anything. A band that would have been run out of town and drawn and quartered for doing a coca cola or mcdonalds commercial, nowadays that sort of thing is expected and not a big deal.

    Secondly, I also think indie and the mainstreams continued moving closer to each other accounts for the shared love of pop and mainstream artists.

    Theres no doubt JT, Beyonce, Taylor and whoever else put out fantastic music, and Since U Been Gone could legitimately be called the song of the decade.

    The lines are blurry, and most people are willing and able to listen to Call Me Maybe or Someone I Used To Know and walk away from them saying that they are brilliant earworms.

    Who else beyond JT, Beyonce, and Taylor has bridged the mainstream-indie divide?

  9. Think of a few songs you’d damn well better love. “Call Me Maybe.” “Complicated.” “Since U Been Gone.” “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.” Max Martin, Dr. Luke, RedOne, Klas Ahlund (member of Teddybears and former member of Caesars, does a lot of production work now including writing and producing many Robyn songs). Songs like these can be done by anyone and can’t be said to necessarily belong to those who perform them. Anyone can sing these radio hits and they’ll be great.

    Liz Phair made an album of songs like that. She made the impersonal her personal.

    While some stay back in 2003 frowning, I’ll be over here enjoying the hell out of Justin Timberlake and Beyoncé.

  10. It’s much easier for an non-pop (I’m not gonna call it “indie”) critic to love a pop song these days than the contrary. For some reason, a lot of pop critics/analysts seem to grow a distaste for everything that smells “indie”. Even going so far as to hate pop/r&b artists embraced by the non-pop community. Since I know where most of the prejudice lies these days, I’m happy with my choices.

    And “Call Me Maybe” is awful.

  11. While not liking an album/ giving it poor reviews is totally justifiable, what sticks out as bullshit about this situation in hindsight is the whole “Liz Phair betrayed indie blah blah blah” nonsense that a lot of people bandied about (and still do, really). As long as you’re making musical choices on your own volition, more power to you. Artists are completely in their rights to make something as accessible or inaccessible as they damn well please. Listeners who demand artists to adhere to a certain set of standards regarding quality or sound or whatever and act as if they’ve been personally wronged if they don’t, on the other hand, just come across as extraordinarily childish.

  12. Even though I’ve never really listened to Liz Phair, I really enjoyed the point of this article. It’s understandable why this album kicked a lot of expectations squarely in the jaw. If Radiohead all of a sudden busted out an album full of Coldplay tunes, no matter how much I do enjoy Coldplay (and I do enjoy me some Coldplay), it would piss the hell out of me. Eventually, I may learn to love it, but the intial shock would be overwhelming. Like shoving a piece of broccoli into my mouth as a child. My first reaction was to vomit, and to this day I have a hard time getting over that initial reaction.

    Having said all that, this article makes some great points about accepting blissful pop and being ok with enjoying it. I for one absolutely love that we’re in an era that accepts Justin Timberlake as “hip.” Music is meant to be enjoyed, and if it is whole-heartedly enjoyable, it has succeeded. I think the internet age has bread a generation of music fans that no longer “need” someone to tell them what to like, even if they enjoy being told what’s good. In a world where everyone is a critic, many are choosing to be entertained despite themselves. I’ll tell ya this much, I’ll take Justin Timberlake over The National any day of the week. Not because some critic told me to, but because he’s that much more fun.

    Good article, good points.

    • Haha “bread.” Oops.

    • I wouldn’t go so far as to say I would listen to JT over The National (Although I wouldn’t mind debate who put out the better new album since they were both great).
      I do agree with everything else though.

      • To be fair, I’ve never given The National a ton of time to soak in. But on the other hand, JT has never needed that much time to soak in.

    • So this album wasn’t a complete and utter surprise to me when it came out, though I do think that’s because a while before the album came out I had read an interview with her, where she talked about working with Avril Lavigne’s songwriting team, living in LA where she was seeing her friends become more successful than her, and wanting to go more mainstream (though my recollection of this article may be a little skewed by this point, since this was apparently 10 years ago). And to a lesser extent, Whitechocolatespaceegg was an awkward step in the same direction. But yeah, I was still one of those who felt that this album was a slap in the face.
      It’s interesting to point out how differently this album would be approached in 2013… and maybe part of it (at least for me) is that in 2003, those of us who had grown a dislike to Top 40 were still too close to the halcyon days of teen pop (for me, pop became a four letter word after enough exposure to Backstreet Boys, Britney, et al, and I stuck to those guns for a couple of years there). After all, I still heavily associated Avril Lavigne with claiming, on TRL, to be the one holding down punk music… and then to find out that this was who Liz Phair wanted to align herself with? Yikes.
      So if a personally analogous situation were to come up today, in 2013… I don’t know. Am I more tolerant of pop music now? Yes, to an extent, though I still want nothing to do with the more manufactured, Carly Rae Jepson/Taylor Swift side of things. And these days I am totally more forgiving of the “selling out” thing, because hey, I understand that being a musician is a terribly difficult lifestyle for most, and I don’t begrudge things like someone selling their music to a commercial to make some extra money. I may not always like what an artist does, but they’ll at least keep my respect if it seems like there is some artistic integrity to what they’re doing. So for me, I don’t feel like I would feel drastically different about this album now than I did at the time. Though, admittedly, that doesn’t mean that the rest of the “indie” blogosphere, in 2013, wouldn’t be all over it.

  13. Good article, but I’m not sure citing “Call Me Maybe” as the Pazz and Jop winner proves it’s anything more than a novelty singer that everyone’s tired of by now — let’s not forget they named “MMMBop” the best single of 1997.

    • Also, I’ve seen critics taking Ke$ha seriously, but have yet to see similar treatment for Bieber or Katy Perry. Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Adele, Beyonce, and Taylor Swift all seem to be taken relatively similarly, but is this really that much of a change, or are the years from roughly the mid-90s to the late 2000s just a shift from what should be the norm? Let’s remember that Prince, Madonna, and Michael Jackson — probably the 3 biggest pop stars of the 80′s — all earned their share of critical acclaim in their day, and while none of today’s pop stars (save Kanye, if you could even call him that anymore) have reached any of their heights and are even criticized for being derivative of aforementioned 80′s pop stars, I’m not sure it’s so much of a sudden seismic shift of critical taste so much as a slow readjustment to accepting pop music as legitimate after the horrifying manufactured junk that polluted pop music airwaves in the late 90′s and early 00′s (think *NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, early Britney…).

      But I might be completely wrong. I don’t know. Just some thoughts. Also I know that last sentence up there was way too long but I’m too lazy to edit it right now, sorry.

      • One of the problems I tend to find in hardcore poptimists is that all you have to do is enter the mainstream via the mainstream, and you’re automatically great. Surely I’m not the only one who thinks there’s a substantial difference between, say, Pet Shop Boys and David Guetta. Or between a great Girls Aloud single and a Katy Perry shout-fest (“Firework” is one of the most patronising pieces of crap I’ve ever heard).

        Admittedly, my catalyst in listening to pop was Kelis’ “Caught Out There”, and the years I defended the praises of Neptunes, Missy Elliott and Timbaland while many around me was listening to crappy lounge music (Thievery Corporation et al). I am sad that, after a period of such brilliant innovation, it seems to have retreated back to reheated eurodance. I lived through 2 Unlimited and Haddaway. Never asked for it to come back.

  14. I’m all for people accepting pop music, since enjoyment and entertainment are certainly main reasons people listen to music, but that doesn’t mean I will be saying that Call Me Maybe and Since U Been Gone are great songs.

  15. For the record, I have always thought this album cover was HIZZOTT

  16. Poptimism is the bogus rationale for music writers pretending to take seriously the music of celebrities like JZ, JT, Beyonce, Taylor Swift, Kanye, etc. in order to boost page views.

  17. So what’s next? A critical reappraisal of “Make Believe”?

  18. The dividing line doesn’t come between pop music vs. everyone else, it comes between good music vs. bad music. And yeah there is a difference and it’s not subjective.

    Good music comes from anywhere and anyone, but it has something to say and it has it’s own way of saying it. Whether it’s manufactured in a big box hollywood factory or written in a dirty basement. The reason certain pop acts get “hipster” attention is because they’re unique. Ke$ha is trashy glitter pop, Gaga is weirdo costume pop, Timberlake is hip soul pop, Swift is teen angst country pop. If pop acts don’t have an image, they’ll be a one-hit wonder and fade away or become B-grade radio filler.

    Which is no different from the indie scene. Pop has it’s worthless remoras and so does hipsterville. The stuff that nobody “actually” cares about, just filler lying at the bottom of the barrel.

    Bottom of the Barrel Pop: Demi Lovato, Jason DeRulo, Karl Wolf, Jessie J, The Wanted, The Script, etc.
    Bottom of the Barrel Indie: Local Natives, Hard-Fi, Matt & Kim, Rogue Wave, Mates of State, Test Icicles, etc.

    Apologies to anyone who is a fan of any of these artists but guess what? To date none of them have either A) created a unique sound or B) had a catchy hit worth remembering. They are all faceless, replaceable, and bland.

    • see local natives live.

    • TEST ICICLES? “Not a unique sound?” Them’s fightin words – like, skinniest and least-sober guy in a back alley, alone, saying reckless things about people’s mothers kind of fightin words.

      Unless you’re of the elite group that think Test Icicles were somehow riding The Blood Brothers’ coattails, which, given your apparent affinity for Ke$ha, I’m going to assume isn’t the case.

  19. “Yes, Ted Leo was nodding at the shared riff between ‘Since U Been Gone’ and ‘Maps,’ but his cover seems to come from a place of admiration.” I would dare say the admiration was more focused toward the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, not Kelly Clarkson. Then again, I’m not Ted Leo, so I can’t say for sure what his motivation was.

  20. Here we go again with the Liz Phair Conundrum. I liked the ’03 album (I thought it was a good pop album, and there’s nothing wrong with that). The Indie world is full of such selfish shitheads who won’t permit anyone to be anything other than a projected image of indie awesomeness. I think it comes from insecurity (God forbid you admit you haven’t heard of [XXXXX] who’ve botten 7 listens on Spotify.) Lighten up. Listen to some Weird Al, you all know Like a Surgeon is the greatest song ever written.

  21. bravo. fantastic article.

    • although the indie / underground / poptimism / everything mixing together in banalities and accusations of pretentiousness does indeed depress me… a well-written article like this helps to ground me and revel in a sort of apocalyptic glee as a witness to the desecration of yesteryear’s somewhat bogus / elitist artistic standards…

  22. I like Dolph Lundgren movies. He punches shit real good. Dolph Lundgren is not Daniel Day Lewis. Dolph Lundgren will never be Daniel Day Lewis. I acknowledge this. I have no problem with this. I cast a critical eye towards any critic that would try to tell me otherwise. In fact, if a critic tells me a Dolph Lundgren movie is the best movie ever, I’m going to disregard every other review that critic will ever write because he’s clearly insane. Dolph Lundgren has a limited range and it’s limited precisely to making things bleed. I don’t pretend his movies are anything but gloriously awful trash.

  23. I’ll always say that “Little Digger”, “Firewalker”, and “Friend Of Mine” are GREAT songs off of this album and they really showcase her talent as a pop songwriter.

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