The Year: 1993
The Album: Liz Phair, Exile in Guyville
Who It Influenced: Alanis Morrissette, unfortunately

To listen to Exile in Guyville, now, at the end of the decade after the one in helped define, is to hear an album that sounds dated. A cluttered indie-rock album in which the lede —Phair's voice, tenderly airing lyrical dirty laundry, undergarments and all— is often buried in the mix. It was 1993, and that's how it was done: even singer-songwriters wanted their guitar to sound like Sonic Youth; even confessionalists pushed the vocal slider down.

Of course, implying Phair hid her light under a bushel is a gross misrepresentation. Her debut album introduced her as a star-in-waiting, and even if, in the 16 years since, such stardom never truly burned bright, the hardly dims the electric presence she casts on Exile's 18 songs.

It was, according to Phair, a song-by-song response to the Rolling Stones' Classic Rock classic Exile on Main St.. Even if it wasn't, hearing Phair stand up, in 1993, and sing a bunch of songs about sex, about using her sexuality, about the emotional immaturity and sexual failings of men, and then turn around and claim they were her, just one Chicago girl, returning fire at the ultimate rock'n'roll institution? It was ballsy then, and is still ballsy now.

Phair's tales of blowjobs and one night stands —and, more notably, the salty sailor-talk with which she delivered them— sound anything but shocking now, circa 2010. But that's hardly dimmed them; hardly dented the feminist intent; hardly canceled out the fact that, at the time, songs like that just weren't sung by the dames. Phair was a crusade unto herself, and, fighting back against rock orthodox, Exile in Guyville was one almighty opening salvo.

• Full review: Liz Phair, Exile in Guyville

Photo © Robert Mansella

Dayve Hawk, shut-in no longer!

Hawk —a 28-year-old stay-at-home dad from rural South Jersey— issued a ridiculous output this year, filling blogs with all manner of melancholy-electro cuts under the name Memory Tapes, Weird Tapes, and Memory Cassette. He finished the year with a bang, too, recently releasing his fabulous first-album-proper, Memory Tapes' Seek Magic, one of the best albums of 2009.

Still, he played not a single live show. And, when I interviewed Hawk last week, the reclusive producer wasn't entirely sure he was going to. "I don't know if I am or not," Hawk said, of performing. "I'm trying to not be cynical, and imagine myself going out and actually having fun, but I don't know how realistic that is. I'm still thinking it over."

Now, the temptation has clearly gotten to him, because the first-ever Memory Tapes live dates have been announced. And, okay, it's just two shows in England, but, it's a start. Baby steps, my friends, baby steps.

Live Tapes:
January 16: Manchester, England - The Corner
January 20: London, England - Luminaire

One look at the complete list of nominees for the 52nd Grammy Awards (technically the 2009 Grammy Awards, but, given they're held in 2010, that confuses many), and it's pretty easy to tell those on the voting panel have some truly, truly terrible taste in music. Katy Perry? Seal? The Fray? Tony Bennett's A Swingin' Christmas? Ouch.

The list of nominees in our old pal Field 5, Category 22 —Best Alternative Music Album— aren't as awe-inspiringly bad, more oddly baffling. Looking at them, I picture the clueless industry old-timers frantically scanning the list of eligible albums, desperately searching for names they know. Animal Collective... who? Dirty Projectors... wha'? Devendra Banhart... help! Oh, wait, look! It's Brian Eno!.

In all fairness to Everything That Happens Will Happen Today, the second collaboration b'tween Eno and David Byrne, it's a kind-of-alright-I-suppose album. Yeah Yeah Yeahs' It's Blitz! ain't bad itself. And Phoenix's Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix is, at certain moments, really rather awesome.

But, what to make of the inclusion of The Open Door, a throwaway, odds/sodds/b-sides EP from alt-rock monsters Death Cab for Cutie. Not sure how many of the clueless dolts charged with handing out the golden Gramophones actually listened to the five-song plate of Narrow Stairs leftovers, but plenty of them obviously clung to the familiarity of a thrice-nominated, Warner-bankrolled band like a rock in a storm. Your Guide to the 52nd Grammy Awards' Best Alternative Album Nominees

Incredibly sad news over the weekend with the death of fingerpicking guitar titan Jack Rose. Rose, only 38, died of a heart attack early on Saturday morning at his home in Philadelphia.

Rose first came to acclaim through his work in acid-folk outfit Pelt, who, alongside acts like Charalambides and the Tower Recordings, were key figures in the growth of the New Weird America drone/folk/psychedelic movement.

Since going solo, Rose's sprawling, complex compositions drew comparisons to guitar-playing masters like Robbie Basho and John Fahey. His tenth solo album, Luck in the Valley, is scheduled for a release on Thrill Jockey on February 23, and will now be charged with added poignancy.

Following his death, a tribute page was set-up at Arthur Magazine's website, featuring MP3s of Rose recordings and videos of him performing. The recollections of Rose came thick and fast in the comments section, including a mammoth, magical eulogy penned by Magik Markers firebrand Elisa Ambrogio that's pretty much guaranteed to make you cry.