Liz Phair's presence in my life is like a cool aunt who has been there through my purest joys and roughest patches. I was seven years old when her self-titled pop album was released. Fueled by a cocktail of Fruit Roll-Ups and Sprite, I danced around my room to "Why Can't I?" on repeat until I collapsed into bed. As a teen, I found my dad's copy of Exile in Guyville and cried in my car to "Fuck and Run" and "Divorce Song." In college, I dug deeper into the archives. I downloaded her Girly-Sound demo tapes from a questionable online forum and became obsessed with deep cuts like "Ant in Alaska" and "Batmobile." I've had phases with every single one of her albums, but Guyville is her magnum opus—it captures the nuances of womanhood in a way that no other album can (or will). She will celebrate its 30th anniversary by playing the album front to back, along with some additional hits.