Let me start off by saying the clean version is just as good without the explicit content and lyrics. Liz Phair's voice is pretty. My favorite songs are Extraordinary, Red Light Fever, and Why Can't I. This album is soothing and flowing without any foul language, or bad songs. I'd recommend this cd to anyone who'd rather have a good, clean version of this instead of explicit.

I've always loved Liz Phair, always thought she was a diamond in the rough. The garage band production values are mostly missing from this CD-but not the Liz Phair edge. It says a lot that, even without the dirty sonics, she's as subversive as ever. The polished diamond is still razor sharp. This CD will probably take her mainstream with lots of radio play. She cleans up real nice. I hope it makes her filthy rich.

Though this is a rock solid pop album with excellent songs, it is hard to have the entire experience of a Liz Phair record that has been edited. While there are some awesome tracks- namely "Extraordinary" and "Rock Me" which need not be edited, overall the explicit record is a more complete experience and the way this record was intended to be listened to.

The review in the NY Times for this CD read like a letter from a kid in junior high to the person who just broke up with them. This is a great album and I'm glad Liz has decided to shake free of the we're-so-cool snobbery that pollutes the indie music scene. I'm surprised that people can take such offense from an individual making artistic and business decisions that serve her own best interests. The indignant reaction is likened to the way people got all huffy when the Dixie Chick's singer criticized Bush. If Liz Phair buys into this criticism, she'll be selling out. At this point, she's doing what she wants to do by kicking off the dreary dust of artistic martyrdom and trying to make some cash. Liberate Liz; buy this disc!

Who knew that all Liz Phair ever wanted was to be a pop star? Surely, her debut, Exile in Guyville, with its cinematic lo-fi production and frankness, never suggested as much, nor did its cleaner sequel, Whip-Smart, even if her appearance in negligee on the cover of Rolling Stone did imply she wanted a wider audience. In retrospect, perhaps the streamlined surfaces of Whitechocolatespaceegg were a bid for the big time, but it was undercut by songs of motherhood, marriage, and remnants of her time as an indie queen. All of that is a distant memory on her long-delayed eponymous fourth album, where she makes a long-delayed stab at superstardom, glamming herself up like a Maxim MILF of the Month and pitching herself somewhere between Sheryl Crow and Avril Lavigne, on one side working with Michael Penn and adult alternative singer/songwriter Pete Yorn and on the other hooking up with 2003's hitmakers du jour the Matrix (not wanting to lose her aging core audience, she began her support tour for the album opening for the thirty-something darlings of the early 2000s, the Flaming Lips, even if her new music was a far cry from indie). As "Extraordinary" starts the album with a heavy guitar downstroke, it's clear that Phair has piled nearly all her chips on making it as a pop act, delivering music that not just fits comfortably with Lavigne's, but follows her sounds and stance. Yet Exile in Guyville had such a lasting impact, it's impossible to shake its memory when hearing newer work such as this. Liz Phair is running away from that shadow on Liz Phair, creating a record that is pretty much the polar opposite of that album, a shiny bright affair that wants nothing more than to be taken as a confection, even when it tries to dig deeper. [Liz Phair was also released in a "clean" version, removing the profanities.]