3/4/2006 - Fuck and Run
Song: Fuck and Run
Artist: Liz Phair
Why this song is the current jam: OK so the Femmes song reminded me. I first heard this song on a Peer Plus retreat. (Peer Plus being this organization at my high school arranged by this guy who was like quasi-guidance counselor/hall-monitor with the basic mission of creating opportunities for kids to learn to be better friends. It sounds like such a nice thing now at my ripe old age of 28, but I tell ya, I always thought it was so weird back in the day, this group where you just hung out and did things to be friends, not a sport or anything like that.) I was such a petrified little teenager that I had avoided most Peer Plus activities if at all possible for the first 2 years of my high school career, even when I was explicitly invited several times. So finally, I had no excuse and had been cajoled/convinced that I should go to the junior retreat, where all the juniors in Peer Plus head to some camp for a weekend and hang out and bond, and pass the candle telling secrets to the group and stuff like that. It was THE GREATEST FUCKING THING IN MY LIFE EVER. I had never had so much connection to different people, even girls mind you, and the whole thing kinda blew my mind. So it was there, that I heard this song, played by several of the girls, most of whom I would not really have considered myself friends with outside of the borders of the magic world of the campgrounds that weekend. We shared things and spent time on "one on one's" where you just walked around talking with one person for an hour (a powerful thing in comparison to group/cult-run high school interactions) That weekend was the first time in my life that I felt a soul-crushing nostalgia for the things that I had passed up or been too afraid to try. Nostalgia for things that used to be is bad enough, but nostalgia for a time that never was, that can be a killer. In hearing this song, I realized how much life some of the girls had been living, how they could relate to something that was so beyond me. It was part posture to be sure (nearly everything is when you are that age I think) but they were drawn to the pain in the song, and I think they felt a solidarity with the disaffected voice of it.
There was a review for this song on AMG and I checked it out and what do you know, it does not completely suck. In fact, unlike so many reviews (akin the ones I shit on recently on the bloggy blog) this one just describes the song, and what makes it work. I like the way she describes some of it, so I'll post it here:
Anyone who's harbored the secret, guilty thought that sexual freedom isn't all it's cracked up to be is likely to identify with "Fuck and Run," the song that became Liz Phair's calling card as the voice of young, disillusioned womanhood. As is often the case with Phair's work, casual listeners seized on the song's four-letter words and sexual frankness, missing the loneliness at its heart. The story of an awkward morning after, "Fuck and Run" is positively old-fashioned in its way -- witness the "What ever happened to a boyfriend?" refrain and the narrator's longing for things like "letters and sodas." What makes it new is Phair's self-consciousness about those yearnings; even as she wishes for the trappings of romance, she deflates them as "stupid old shit." In fact, the dominant tone of "Fuck and Run" is its diffidence, from the low-key jangle of the melody to the unstudied, can't-be-bothered quality of Phair's singing. This is not Joan Osborne raving gleefully about sex with her "Right Hand Man" or Alanis Morrisette lashing out at an ex, to cite two of Phair's contemporaries. This is just a vaguely disappointed woman who slept with someone and knows he won't be sending flowers. Whether the encounter was even enjoyable in and of itself is left unclear -- even at her most graphic, Phair keeps something in reserve. Only a slight uptick of urgency in her voice as she sings "I can feel it in my bones/I'm gonna spend my whole life alone" betrays the sadness behind the shrug. For obvious marketing reasons, "Fuck and Run" was not the Exile in Guyville single, but it was the track that got people talking about Liz Phair, and it's the perfect embodiment of her tug of war between freedom and safety.
- by Kristi Coulter, AMG
"The sadness behind the shrug." Man I wish I had written that about this song. That is what I think makes it powerful, even beyond any parallels that you may be able to draw to your own life. That sad shrug I think encapsulates the adolescence of so many people I have known, and I hope I never ever forget that if I have kids. This whole album is good by the way, so check it out. This song makes me think of how I learn the important things I learn in life. The ones that you can say to other people as clearly as you want and it will make no difference because it is not about hearing the words, but experiencing the idea. I think it always works best for me to learn something from something smaller than my own life. Lately it has been dancing all the time, since that is what I do. But lots of times, it has been music, or a book. And then of course there is good old fashioned stumbling-through-it life experience but that usually takes me a few tries to get the point.
Artist: Liz Phair
Why this song is the current jam: OK so the Femmes song reminded me. I first heard this song on a Peer Plus retreat. (Peer Plus being this organization at my high school arranged by this guy who was like quasi-guidance counselor/hall-monitor with the basic mission of creating opportunities for kids to learn to be better friends. It sounds like such a nice thing now at my ripe old age of 28, but I tell ya, I always thought it was so weird back in the day, this group where you just hung out and did things to be friends, not a sport or anything like that.) I was such a petrified little teenager that I had avoided most Peer Plus activities if at all possible for the first 2 years of my high school career, even when I was explicitly invited several times. So finally, I had no excuse and had been cajoled/convinced that I should go to the junior retreat, where all the juniors in Peer Plus head to some camp for a weekend and hang out and bond, and pass the candle telling secrets to the group and stuff like that. It was THE GREATEST FUCKING THING IN MY LIFE EVER. I had never had so much connection to different people, even girls mind you, and the whole thing kinda blew my mind. So it was there, that I heard this song, played by several of the girls, most of whom I would not really have considered myself friends with outside of the borders of the magic world of the campgrounds that weekend. We shared things and spent time on "one on one's" where you just walked around talking with one person for an hour (a powerful thing in comparison to group/cult-run high school interactions) That weekend was the first time in my life that I felt a soul-crushing nostalgia for the things that I had passed up or been too afraid to try. Nostalgia for things that used to be is bad enough, but nostalgia for a time that never was, that can be a killer. In hearing this song, I realized how much life some of the girls had been living, how they could relate to something that was so beyond me. It was part posture to be sure (nearly everything is when you are that age I think) but they were drawn to the pain in the song, and I think they felt a solidarity with the disaffected voice of it.
There was a review for this song on AMG and I checked it out and what do you know, it does not completely suck. In fact, unlike so many reviews (akin the ones I shit on recently on the bloggy blog) this one just describes the song, and what makes it work. I like the way she describes some of it, so I'll post it here:
Anyone who's harbored the secret, guilty thought that sexual freedom isn't all it's cracked up to be is likely to identify with "Fuck and Run," the song that became Liz Phair's calling card as the voice of young, disillusioned womanhood. As is often the case with Phair's work, casual listeners seized on the song's four-letter words and sexual frankness, missing the loneliness at its heart. The story of an awkward morning after, "Fuck and Run" is positively old-fashioned in its way -- witness the "What ever happened to a boyfriend?" refrain and the narrator's longing for things like "letters and sodas." What makes it new is Phair's self-consciousness about those yearnings; even as she wishes for the trappings of romance, she deflates them as "stupid old shit." In fact, the dominant tone of "Fuck and Run" is its diffidence, from the low-key jangle of the melody to the unstudied, can't-be-bothered quality of Phair's singing. This is not Joan Osborne raving gleefully about sex with her "Right Hand Man" or Alanis Morrisette lashing out at an ex, to cite two of Phair's contemporaries. This is just a vaguely disappointed woman who slept with someone and knows he won't be sending flowers. Whether the encounter was even enjoyable in and of itself is left unclear -- even at her most graphic, Phair keeps something in reserve. Only a slight uptick of urgency in her voice as she sings "I can feel it in my bones/I'm gonna spend my whole life alone" betrays the sadness behind the shrug. For obvious marketing reasons, "Fuck and Run" was not the Exile in Guyville single, but it was the track that got people talking about Liz Phair, and it's the perfect embodiment of her tug of war between freedom and safety.
- by Kristi Coulter, AMG
"The sadness behind the shrug." Man I wish I had written that about this song. That is what I think makes it powerful, even beyond any parallels that you may be able to draw to your own life. That sad shrug I think encapsulates the adolescence of so many people I have known, and I hope I never ever forget that if I have kids. This whole album is good by the way, so check it out. This song makes me think of how I learn the important things I learn in life. The ones that you can say to other people as clearly as you want and it will make no difference because it is not about hearing the words, but experiencing the idea. I think it always works best for me to learn something from something smaller than my own life. Lately it has been dancing all the time, since that is what I do. But lots of times, it has been music, or a book. And then of course there is good old fashioned stumbling-through-it life experience but that usually takes me a few tries to get the point.
posted by Peetski at 3:17 AM
3 Comments:
Hi there Peter,
I think your post on this song is really remarkable. I had a similar experience when I was in junior high. I had been teased and taunted for being overweight and in many ways I never got to develop being able to talk to kids my own age. When I was fourteen I went to this afterschool program and that helped a bunch of insecure kids actually talk to one another and develop friendships. It helped me develop mechanisms for dealing with people who would try to manipulate me and put me down. What I'm getting at...is that those feelings and greater understanding that comes with those memories really do change the way you experience life. I heard you are getting more into graphic novels. I happen to be a dork (obviously since I'm friends with Caitlin) and have a whole bunch of things I could lend you if you wanted. I think it would kinda tie into that sense of nostalgia especially with Seth's "Its a good life if you don't weaken." If you want to borrow say that one to start I'll hand it over to Caitlin and you can give it back either when you come to toronto in June whenever you're done reading it.
Sorry this post is so long.
I'll stop typing now.
N.
Hmm.. I got another page not found. Is this a problem on my end or yours?
dd
My end, should be fixed.
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