Barnes & Noble
Liz Phair's fans are pretty clearly divided into two camps: those who like her indie-centric early releases and those who prefer the more pop-oriented sounds of her 2003 self-titled album. Like its predecessor, Somebody's Miracle, finds Phair shooting pretty directly for Sheryl Crow territory, with lots of spit-shined mid-tempo songs featuring chiming chords, rootsy flourishes, and Jumbotron-sized hooks. But there's some odd, occasionally dark subject matter lurking in those sparkly-sounding songs, whether it's simply an unusual rhyme (pairing "Look at you" with "ingénue") or a reference to some ill-fated "friends in rehab." The brightness begins to fade as the album progresses, and as on Phair's preceding album, there's one deeply serious song that will jolt listeners out of their reveries. Liz Phair's was "Little Digger" (a touching song about a boy seeing his single mom going on a date), and this album's is the downright shocking "Table for One," a harrowing tale about a suburban alcoholic that reads like a short story ("I want to die alone ... I want to bring down all those people who drank with me / Watching happily, my humiliation"). The album perks up after that, with songs musically referencing the Stones and Big Star, offering ear candy for old fans. But more than anything else, Somebody's Miracle suggests that Phair the artist is still a work in progress: a whip-smart, still-maturing songwriter whose masterpiece may well be still to come. Jem Aswad
All Music Guide
Liz Phair alienated a large portion of her audience with her 2003 extreme pop makeover, where she didn't just go pop, she went teen pop, collaborating with the Matrix and winding up sounding something like Avril Lavigne's aunt. It wasn't exactly what fans raised on Exile in Guyville either wanted or expected and they were vocal in their displeasure, yet Phair made it very clear in her supporting press for the album that she didn't care that they were upset: she was no longer the woman who made Exile, and had no interest in trying to write or sound that way anymore, which was pretty evident from the album at hand. She wanted to cash in that indie cred and become a star, and Liz Phair did indeed bring her success, including her first Top 40 hit with "Why Can't I?," which tended to diminish the sniping of her critics, even if it didn't necessarily dismiss their criticisms. Most of the criticisms were focused on the Matrix-fueled pop singles, since they were flashy, ostentatious examples of how Phair wanted to play on a bigger field, but apart from those singles, Liz Phair concentrated on tasteful, well-polished, sturdy adult alternative pop that was not dissimilar to work by such peers as Michael Penn and Aimee Mann. That, not the desperate teen pop, is the touchstone for Somebody's Miracle, her sequel to the 2003 affair. Now that she's made a clean break from indie rock, severing herself from her past to such an extent that she will never be judged alongside such 1993 peers as PJ Harvey, Tanya Donelly, and Stephen Malkmus, she's content to make a full-fledged, unabashed adult alternative album. If the last album was her attempt to be Avril, this is her Sheryl Crow album, pitched halfway between the bright surfaces of C'mon, C'mon and the laid-back, classy Globe Sessions. The smooth and polished production here creates a wash of sound that is not particularly well suited to Phair's thin, reedy voice, but since the album is well produced and professional, it's a pleasing wash of sound. And Phair has a pretty good batch of songs here, ranging from the stark first-person tale of alcoholism "Table for One" to catchy pop tunes like "Stars and Planets" and "Got My Own Thing." These are good adult pop tunes, although the pleasant Somebody's Miracle would have been improved if they had been given a more suitable production style. Stephen Thomas Erlewine