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Unlikely to be confused with the new Dido album,
unless the millionaire angst-mothra is also rocking
the Abraham Lincoln-style bearded lady look this
season, Peaches is a different, now-wash-your-hands
kind of pop star, and the sort of lady that would
make parents worldwide go, "Crikey!"
Arriving with debut album The Teaches Of Peaches in
2000, the Berlin-based Canadian became vaguely
tied up with the whole electroclash palaver - a
movement that, courtesy of Fischerspooner, practically destroyed The Ministry Of Sound empire (so quite a
good thing, no?) and consists mainly of kinky couples
such as Adult and Crossover sounding bored in an
"I'm wearing a rubber jockstrap underneath my duffle coat"
kinda way over early Human League. Peaches walks a
very unique path to the rest of that scene, and
indeed, to the rest of music in general.
From her Def Leppard Y-fronts - with added penis,
natch - to her cool/crap mullet, her look, and shall
we say "approach", has been adopted by drag queens
and cute, if, unsavoury types the world over. She has
even been asked to lecture at the Contemporary Music
Academy in Berlin, and her lyrics are discussed as
part of the University Of Toronto's Queer Studies
program.
Sticking mainly with the minimalist noises of her
groovebox again, this album is a fantastic
electro-sex fest in thrall to the joy of rock. From
the Hysteria lettering on the sleeve, to the Joan Jett
sampling on the opening track, through to
the team-up with Iggy Pop on Kick It (wherein the
somewhat confused Ig rhymes "crotch" with, um, "fotch"), the spirit of punk rock runs
throughout the sweaty backroom boogie, with the filth
remaining in abundance.
I U She is a bare beat catchy mantra about
threesomes, so good it makes Benny Benassi's
Satisfaction look as racy as Westlife's entire works. Back It Up, Boy suggests the use of a dildo on your fella, which could make young couples a bit
uncomfortable the next time they're tucking into their
microwaved Arabiattas when the talk turns to "toys".
Be careful, one of you might absent-mindedly start singing, "Sweet buns, let me be your gun," next time you're at the supermarket checkout. Shake Yer Dix encourages
the boys to "oh come on", and the girls to do
similar with, well, something that rhymes.
Love her or hate her, Peaches has made it clear where
she stands. If a 35 year old woman is happy singing while
wearing beyond-surgically-tight pink panties with her
downstairs showing, the least you could do is listen.
A work of rude and dirty genius.
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