Loeb Life

The creation of Tails wasn't quite Waterworld (and cost only about $250,000), yet it was meticulous. Complicating matters somewhat was that the equally exacting Patiño and Loeb also happen to be dating (although Loeb maintains her own apartment). Patiño, a onetime studio engineer who has written music for promotional spots on Comedy Central, is an apt alter ego for the cautious Loeb. Outgoing and quick to shake hands, he is Loeb's polar opposite: ''They play good cop/bad cop,'' says one label executive who worked with them. Patiño is also given to disarmingly grand pronouncements: ''The record has a medicinal quality. If three people won't be committing suicide because of listening to these songs, it'll all be worth it.''

Given the casualties left by the time the studio smoke cleared, the question ''Was it worth it?'' takes on new shades. First Gordon, a friend who became one of several Loeb managers, exited. Claiming he gave Loeb years of ''great advice for free'' before she ultimately opted for big-league manager Will Botwin (Liz Phair, Los Lobos, Rosanne Cash, etc.), Gordon adds curtly of the breakup, ''It was convenient timing for her.'' Counters Loeb: ''It wasn't the right time and place for us to work together. It doesn't necessarily work out with friends.''

Then, after the recording sessions ended, two of the three members of Loeb's backup band, Nine Stories, were given notice. (Their photos and names will appear on the finished record, though.) ''Nine Stories is a revolving door,'' Patiño asserts. ''They knew long before the album was done that it was not going to continue.'' (The musicians declined to comment or were unavailable.)

The precision that pervaded the recording sessions didn't end there. A second photo session for the cover art had to be arranged when the first batch of stills didn't pan out — a bunch of different hairstyles didn't work for Loeb, who was also heavily involved with the design of the album, a rarity with musicians. ''It takes time to work on the artwork,'' she says, ''and it takes time to figure out if the size of the letters is the right size... Creative control is a natural — it's not something you need to get.''

Gordon sees it another way: ''She's a control freak,'' he says exasperatedly. ''She wants everything to be perfect.''

It's hard to reconcile that taskmaster image with the diminutive person picking at a salad one night in early September. Physically, Loeb doesn't look as though she has the mettle to survive the carnivorous world of the music business. In person, the 27-year-old is even more petite than she seems in the ''Stay'' video, with a pale, gamine delicacy. Yet it's clear that Loeb has a steely resolve, not to mention a guarded nature. She responds to a query about how many pairs of glasses she owns with a suspicious ''Why do you ask?'' as if there were an implication that her nearsightedness is a calculated image. ''It's been explained to me,'' she says, ''that people try to find ways to cut you down if you're doing well, you know?

''In a way I can understand that. I've had the same experience — people have hits and I can't believe it. Hopefully, people will not judge me on the fact that I'm not Courtney Love. I'm not.''

The fickleness of the great American public was pointed out to Loeb when she played before a teacher friend's class of fifth graders. ''I asked them what their favorite music was,'' she recalls. ''It was all bands that were on MTV and nothing else. And one of them said, 'Oh, I like Spin Doctors.' And the girl next to her said, 'Oh, no, I'm tired of them.' And their video had just gone on the air a month beforehand.''

With such media overload in mind, both Loeb and Geffen are now into the next phase of the project: reminding record buyers who Loeb is while tweaking her geeky, genteel-folkie image with things like loud electric guitars and an arty Edwin Fotheringham cover illustration (of a cat) intended to give her, in the word of one Geffen marketing executive, a ''quirkier'' image. Yet in a way, the yearlong gap between hit and album might help. Given the grunge backlash and the resurgence of folk pop, perhaps America is in search of a female Hootie, someone who can express intimate, love-letter sentiments in a dulcet, easy-to-sing-along fashion. Sure enough, in its second week on the air, the album's initial single, ''Do You Sleep?'' was the second-most-added record at both modern-rock and Top 40 radio stations, according to the radio trade magazine Friday Morning Quarterback.

As midnight approaches, Loeb is clearly tired from a day of photo sessions and an interview with VH1; plus, she's just returned from a promotional swing through Europe. Now she'll do the same for another three weeks in Australia and Japan. And she and Patiño still have to rehearse potential replacements for Nine Stories' fired members for a world tour that starts this month.

''I've learned that it all comes back to me,'' Loeb winds up. ''I still get shocked when I hear about bands whose record doesn't work out and you never hear from them again.'' In any way she can, Lisa Loeb wants to ensure that we'll be hearing from her for a long time.