The unabridged Lisa Germano dictionary jumps from “subtitle” to “subtopic”; "subtlety" just isn’t in her vocabulary. Since emerging from John Mellencamp’s band in 1993, the Los Angeles singer/songwriter has delighted in exposing schizophrenic emotional contrasts. (She even named her publishing company Emotional Wench.) From recording her cats purring to sampling 911 tapes, she devises ingenious ways of sending audiences gliding up or spiraling down. Lullaby For Liquid Pig, Germano’s first record since 1998’s Slide, balances itself carefully between these two polar opposites: Immeasurable amounts of pain lurk just below the surface of the 12 incandescent tracks. Capable accompaniment from Neil Finn, Johnny Marr, Wendy Melvoin, Joey Waronker and Soul Coughing’s Sebastian Steinberg brings an optimistic, nearly cheerful feel to the music. Germano’s voice is breathy and seductive, but she has all the innocence of a dead child’s ghost. Lyrics that bluntly describe alcoholism (“I smell like wine/Most of the time,” from “It’s Party Time”) are brightened by tinkling pianos, washed guitars and reverb-soaked violins. The record’s closing showpiece, “Into The Night,” sets her against a swelling crest of strings that sighs into peaceful silence. In a way, it’s as if we’re returning back to the beginning of an endless emotional loop, bracing ourselves to careen again between manic and depressive, self-love and deprecation, hopefulness and despair.

MAGNET spoke with Germano via phone from her home in Los Angeles, where she was busy tending to her sick cat.

Where did the title Lullaby For Liquid Pig come from?
It’s mocking myself. As I’ve had to talk about the record to people, I’m learning more about what it’s about. I originally thought Liquid Pig was about alcohol, but I realized that when you strip away any questions about alcohol, it becomes much more about being a thirsty person for all sorts of things. Needing people too much, needing constant liquid ... constantly, “Give me, give me, give me.” It seemed a little bit easier to take to call it Lullaby For Liquid Pig because it’s sweet, too. It’s a sad little lullaby and you’re going to have to really listen to it so you can figure this shit out.

Did you intentionally create contrast between the lyrical content and the sound of the music?
I’d have to say no. I was afraid that people would find it too sad. It’s not necessarily slow, but it’s dark. Sometimes, I’ll be ironic when I’m writing. The song is actually really dark but I’ll make the music happy. Maybe this record as a whole hit you like that. It doesn’t hit me like that ... I didn’t do it on purpose.

Could it be that you’re happier in your life and it’s reflecting in your music?
No, because I really wasn’t very happy when I was writing this. I was happy when [Joey Waronker and I] put it on ProTools ... Maybe working on the record once the songs were done and once the songs were distant, I could have more fun with them. A lot of these tracks are two-and-a-half, three years old. We put new life in them.

A stellar roster of people played on the record, including Neil Finn and Johnny Marr.
It’s wonderful! Each of them only played on one or two songs. We could send it to them and they could put it on their ProTools and send it back to us. It was really modern. It’s a technology that you can abuse. I’ve done sessions and you play a few notes and they say, OK, that’s all we’re going to need. That’s uncreative. But to do what I did ... It was thrilling.

Does inviting other people to work on your songs feel uncomfortable?
It goes in phases. I’m too embarrassed to play anybody my songs until I’m absolutely sure they’re ready to be played. I had most of the record recorded before I even played my manager a song. I thought, “I’m not sure if this is too personal, if anybody’s going to get it.” Then, it just became a process of being stronger about it. Now I don’t even know what I was so scared about.

Liquid Pig doesn’t have the involved emotional progression of your past records. Was that intentional?
I think the record can be interrupted. It’s why I chose the title. You’re going to bed and this particular night, you’re thinking about this particular problem. So that’s that song. Another night, you’re in the same mood, you’re in the same record, but it’s a different problem now. It’s about this person not being able to sleep for seeing all the things they need to change. When Ivo [Watts-Russell, head of 4AD, Germano’s former label] first heard it, he said, “It seems like a big mansion, a dark old house. Each song is a different room.”

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