Thanks to my frankly rubbish sense of direction I finally reach Brixton Academy via my customary scenic route which means that I miss the Eagles of Death Metal (Josh Hommes new band) completely. Unfortunately I am in time to catch the last three songs from Pretty Girls Make Graves. They seem to trade in sub standard goth dirges and are, quite frankly, shite.
It is more than apparent that a fair percentage of the crowd are here tonight to see PEACHES. The buzz inside the Academy is growing steadily as a video screen and platform are moved onto the stage, creating a ripple of expectation through the crowd. As her beat box crashes and bleeps through the speakers, the place erupts and she bounds onstage dressed in white hotpants and bra. Brixton goes mental. She kicks off with ‘I Don’t Give a ……’ a song which basically allows her to say fuck and shit in large amounts at the top of her voice. Second song in and we’re treated to ‘Shake your Dix’ complete with video of two women wearing beards and prosthetic dicks, erm, shaking their dicks. Not that Peaches would leave anyone out, ‘If you haven’t got a dick, shake your tits!’ she cries, helpfully.
Now, before we go on, let’s get a few things straight. This reviewer is fully aware of the joys of Peaches and her subversion of sexual politics. Calling her album ‘Fatherfucker’ was a stroke of genius. ‘Fuck the Pain Away’ (which she doesn’t play) is a great song. Tonight though is like watching your slightly unhinged auntie finding your secret stash of Ecstasy, necking a couple of pills and singing karaoke. To Gary Glitter tunes. And Sigue Sigue Sputnik. Whilst doing a slow striptease. Amusing at first but generally a bit embarrassing.
The highlight of the set is ‘Kick It’ which she duets with Iggy Pop via the video screen. It’s fantastic but mainly for Iggy and his mad rubber limbed dancing and dumb facial expressions. Let’s face it, it is never good to be blown off stage by a video. As she reaches the climax of her show she pretends to stumble over the monitors and spit fake blood over the audience and then she’s gone. The whole thing has a feel of multi media art show rather than rock gig and perhaps in a smaller venue it would work better. Tonight in Brixton though it was really disappointing.
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If Peaches was disappointing, THE DISTILLERS went straight for the truly terrible. Sure, they weren’t helped by Brixtons notorious dodgy sound, which was muffled and distorted in equal measure, but I’ve seen many a band overcome that. Nope, the real problem can be summed up as follows; firstly they are too big too quick and are having trouble filling a venue of this size (I mean sound wise and personality wise. Tonight is sold out). Secondly the material pre ‘Coral Fang’ is poor, merging into one big faceless punk thrash. Even their better material they don’t do justice to tonight, ‘Drain the Blood’ was murky and shambolic, ‘City of Angels’ barely recognisable. Finally, they are simply bad musically, on several songs they are unable to keep time with each other and on others they seem to be racing each other to the end of the song.
Brody Dalle certainly looks the part but lacks the presence of, say, Courtney Love, who she obviously holds a huge debt too, whether it be stylistically, musically but in particular vocally. The rest of the band re-introduce the concept of Sleeper bloke back into the musical world (like we missed it!). They are a charmless lot, lacking not only in charisma and star quality but also musical ability. Really, The Distillers were simply shocking tonight.
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