Soberish is a suitable title for an album that hangs suspended between a variety of states of mind. It's not just the netherworld of navigating sobriety with a slight buzz: Soberish exists in a space between the mainstream and the fringe, a place where the boundaries separating the past and present blur. Fittingly, it's a homecoming of sorts for Liz Phair, marking a reunion with Brad Wood, the collaborator who co-produced her early indie albums. Anybody expecting Soberish to be a return to Phair's nervy, lo-fi '90s will be ...
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Soberish is a suitable title for an album that hangs suspended between a variety of states of mind. It's not just the netherworld of navigating sobriety with a slight buzz: Soberish exists in a space between the mainstream and the fringe, a place where the boundaries separating the past and present blur. Fittingly, it's a homecoming of sorts for Liz Phair, marking a reunion with Brad Wood, the collaborator who co-produced her early indie albums. Anybody expecting Soberish to be a return to Phair's nervy, lo-fi '90s will be sorely disappointed by its subdued vibe or how the album often flirts with the mellow melodicism of Somebody's Miracle, the album that closed out her run at the AAA charts back in 2005. This soft hangover is surprising yet logical. Phair only released one album, the deliberately off-the-cuff 2010 LP Funstyle, between Somebody's Miracle and 2021's Soberish, an extended period of quiet that encompassed a project designed as an answer to the Beatles' White Album that was abandoned due to a falling out with producer Ryan Adams. This makes Soberish her first full album in 16 years, yet the striking thing about the record is that it doesn't feel high-stakes. Songs fade in and drift off, melodies come into focus then float away, there isn't a sense of urgency even to the rockers, of which there are a handful. This aesthetic isn't far removed from the magpie collage of Exile in Guyville or Whip-Smart, but Phair isn't attempting to re-create the spare, evocative guitar-rock of those indie records. The mixes are soft and lush, with vocal harmonies, keyboards, and effects plastered over the submerged guitars, a sound that's painterly yet pop. It suits Phair's songs, which are pointed and poignant, alternating sketches with stories. She finds time to slip in a bawdy joke -- "Bad Kitty," which smashes the nail upon the head -- that may be broader than the rest of the album, yet it fits Soberish, as it rhymes with the erotically charged "Ba Ba Ba" and the knowing wit of "Dosage." "Bad Kitty" is followed by the soundscape coda "Rain Scene," a sequence that emphasizes how Soberish isn't exactly tidy. The appealing thing about Soberish is how it holds two thoughts (and sounds) simultaneously, a record that revives the spirit of Phair's earliest albums while casually leaning into her middle age. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi
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