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lirik lagu gina arnold - liz phair's "exile in guyville" (33 1/3 excerpt)

in the late 1990s and the 2000s, chicago’s boats were lifted with the rising tide, like everyone else’s in america, including those in the indie scene. the world we lived in then – our little group who’d always been and always will, until the end – no longer needs to exist in the same way it did: since digital downloading has ‘freed’ music from the corporate world, the indie scene such as it was is now a meaningless construct. it’s over. no kidding: it’s over – as far away from now as world war ii was at my birth. and yet, as i wandered about the new chicago (with my newfangled head phones in my old fangled ears) i wondered about guyville. does it still exist, in wicker park, or anywhere else? from the perspective of a middle aged professor, there is no way i can penetrate it if it does, but my guess is that it is still a burgeoning community, both here and in williamsburg and in silver lake and in san francisco, and in a lot of other places around the globe

one sign that it does exist occurred in january of 2012, lana del rey (real name: lizzie grant), appeared on snl to sing her internet-hit song “video games.” clad in a skin tight white gown that would make 99% of the female population of the planet look chubby, del rey was a striking figure. with her lacquered red hair swept back like veronica lake and a pouty mouth that’s slightly askew, she is beautiful in the way that movie stars in the 1950s were: unique, p-ssive, transfixing. yet as she gripped the mike and began to sing, a wisp of anger began to waft across the twitterverse. by the time she’d finished the evening, the internets were full of barbs and taunts, from actress juliette lewis’s much heralded comment that “watching this ‘singer’ on snl is like watching a 12 year old in their bedroom when they’re pretending to sing and perform” to more typical utterances like, “i’d rather attend tim tebow’s bible camp than have to sit through another lana del rey song.” a few days later, a unanimous verdict seemed to have been reached that del rey’s was the worst appearance on snl ever. in music media savvy circles like pitchfork and gawker, del rey was heralded as a no-talent viral sensation whose daddy bought her a recording contract

of course, not everyone was against her – only music fans. daniel radcliffe, who hosted that particular episode of snl, commented, “…people are making it about things other than the performance … if you read what people are saying about her online, it’s all about her past and her family and stuff that’s n0body else’s business.” as radcliffe’s remark notes, lana del rey’s crime was cl-ss, rather than gender, related. nevertheless, her hit song, “video games,” is a genuine hit: no matter what the internet said, it was downloaded at a record pace after the appearance, and people who don’t monitor pitchfork were genuinely engaged by it. minus the downloading element, this two-tiered reaction reminded me a lot of the reaction to liz phair, all those years ago. like del rey, phair was dismissed by the hipoisie as merely being s-xy, rich, and lacking in talent. she was ridiculed for being an unpersuasive live act. and, also much like del rey, her music itself was appreciated by those who had no clue what the hipoisie are talking about

aesthetically speaking, the music of these two women is not at all similar. phair’s lyrics are quirky, witty, fun, deep, upbeat: del rey casts a glum shadow on everything she sings, moaning and sighing about love and l-st. she casts herself as twilight’s bella to liz phair’s hermione grainger: a wan loser, adrift in memories, wrapt, also, in nostalgic fashion tatters of bygone eras, the post-modern become flesh. yet there is a similarity. “video games” is a reverie on a guvyille-like boyfriend more interested in playing video games than in gazing at del rey’s beauty: the mood which haunts this and the rest of her work has been dubbed ”hollywood sadcore,” and “gangsta nancy sinatra.”

if you did a venn diagram of both liz’s careers, you’d find they had a few things in common other than their first names. both are cl-ssically beautiful blonds, both are perceived as “rich,” both sing about s-x, both came to prominence outside the regular music industry, both were accused of singing off key and both were vilified within an inch of their life soon after their debuts, grant for the “lameness” of her performance and a vague lack of authenticity, and phair for the myriad of similar reasons

not surprisingly, the criticism of each is extremely gendered. a host of male writers have accused each woman of “inauthenticity,’ while female critics have been more forbearing. according to the critic bernedette mcnulty, “the real crime grant seems to have committed is to make a song – perhaps the most wonderful single of the year: a weird, other-worldly, hearbreakingly emotional waltz – that appeals to indie kids, while also aspiring to a certain level of conventional pop star glamour and theatrical posturing.” (guardian.)

because of the nearly twenty year gap between their debut, phair and del rey’s career history don’t match exactly. but the similar reactions to their music is instructive, because it shows how little has changed emotionally since 1994. indeed, the only really meaningful change between these situations is the vehicle of the criticism: instead of the letters section of spin and the chicago reader, del rey’s work was a trending hashtag on twitter, and those who’d missed the initial performance could catch up with it on youtube and then weigh in with an opinion that was at least informed by actual knowledge. that change, however, just meant that the vilification went faster and had the potential to be meaner

it seems to have meant something else as well, though. when phair was criticized by the cognoscenti, her album sales suffered. she wasn’t played on mainstream radio, so she relied entirely on the indie rock network to garner acceptance, and that acceptance was partly stifled by the hipsters who hated her. del rey was rejected by the self same network of hipsters, but today, there is another social network to take up the slack. her album’s release, which took place two weeks after her so called debacle, was a triumph. she sold 77,000 copies of born to lose in its first week, 20,000 more than exile did the first year of its release. as they say in the advertising and politics business, when it comes to publicity, all that’s really needed for success is for the media to just spell their name right

the lana del rey controversy – such as it is – proves that today’s music listeners don’t slavishly follow the sledge hammer opinions of tastemakers; thanks to the magic of digital technology, they have more opportunity to taste-make for themselves. but another thing that struck me forcibly about the powerful online hate wave that was directed towards del rey after the snl appearance was its hypocrisy. in the days of autotune, del rey’s very realness, her undoubted offkeyness, her obvious musical timidity, should have been celebrated by those who claim to champion authenticity. she is authentically pretty, authentically singing, authentically on stage diy-ing it. but in music criticism, the word “authenticity” apparently still cleaves to a particular notion about race, cl-ss and gender. african americans and blue collar males are the only ‘authentic’ voices who can claim diy roots; women who aren’t hysterical, crazy, or poor, are not welcome in that world

however, there has been a change for the better. i think that indie rock fans still feel the same about labels and ownership and authenticity. i think they still air their grievances at the top of their lungs, but the consumers they are presumably courting are, if anything, even less responsive than they were in my day. in the past, a vicious critic could mock a record out of the public eye. that’s not true anymore, and one wonders if they are feeling more impotent and more angry, or if they are resigned to their fate. since 1993, the year exile was released, the pop landscape has changed as much as the rest of the world. most of the change is due to peer-to-peer file sharing and the concomitant shift in consumption patterns that it creates, but there are cultural shifts as well. not least of these are the changes in how s-xuality is purveyed, received in both the media and the world at large. when guyville came out, liz phair was considered freakishly interested in s-x – at least, for a white girl – t-tillating, extroverted, a ‘superfreak’, in the parlance of the day. today the blueness of her record might not raise the eyebrows of a ten year old

- lirik lagu gina arnold

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