KISSOGRAM, as their name might not suggest, are a German electroclash duo. Besuited and initially sombre, irony is obviously their intent, but Kissogram too often veer into a lame homage to all things Kraftwerkian - singer Jonas Poppe even spends part of the set playing what looks like a pocket calculator. Poppe’s vocals are intoned with little emotion whilst his English lyrics have that weird ‘second language’ feel about them – now who does that remind you of?
I’m probably being a bit harsh – Kissogram were enjoyable enough, but not half as radical as I suspect they think they are. On a more positive note, three cheers for the sonic references to ‘Funky Town’ and ‘Now I Wanna Be Your Dog’.
Call me prudish, but the prospect of attending a PEACHES gig sans partner or friends made me want to get a t-shirt printed with the slogan ‘ I’m not a pervy saddo –honest’. I needn’t have worried because, despite initial appearances, cheap titillation is definitely not part of the teaches of Peaches. Her set is nothing less than hypersexual radical feminist agitprop cabaret (did I just say that?)
From taking the stage disguised as a rock chick with blonde wig and stylized guitar, through the anarchic rush of blinding tunes such as ‘I U She’ and ‘I Don’t Give a...’ Peaches doesn’t once take her foot off the accelerator. Freaky dancers Annabel and Billi crank up the polysexual mayhem, particularly during ‘Shake Yer Dix’ when they appear with big beards and even bigger strap-ons. Peaches also graciously shares the stage with Iggy Pop who makes a guest appearance (on prerecorded video, unfortunately) for the incendiary duet ‘Kick it’.
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Returning for an encore, she charms the crowd by making accusations of guitar theft and apologizing for vomiting over the front row. This is followed by the apocalyptic ‘Fuck The Pain Away' (complete with stagediving groupie,) and a version of a track that Peaches produced for Yoko Ono, who she slags off mercilessly – hurrah!
The set ends with an ultra-minimal version of ‘Set It Off’, leaving us (probably appropriately) with a glamorous hula-hoopist, Electric 6’s ‘Gay Bar’ and a heady sense of liberation.
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