There's good taste, there's bad taste, there's the red light district and then there's a bearded woman brandishing dildos........Welcome to the none-scuzzier world of PEACHES, where going one further is a daily occurence.
The demurely-titled "Fatherfucker" is her ladyship's second album, and if you've stopped palpitating after the effects of her first ("The Teaches Of Peaches"), then hop in the cadillac, stock up the mini-bar, wind up those black windows and C'mon baby, let's go.
Musically, "Fatherfucker" is about as subtle as being repeatedly booted in the nuts by a rhino clad in steel toe-capped industrial work boots, and it's utterly unrepentent. Broadly it can divided into two camps: slow, minimal, electro OTT suggestiveness and fast, dumb, clipped rock OTT suggestiveness, with simple brutal riffs the order of the day. Except for "Operate" (" I think your zipper's stuck!"), which pretty much melds the two approaches.
The brilliant "I Don't Give A..." sets out Peaches' stall. In under 90 fast and furious seconds, she screams: "I don't give a damn about my reputation, I don't give a FUUUCCKKK!". It ends overheating in a shitstorm of her yelling "Fuck...shit!" and is over almost before its' begun. Mega, as is the crazed "Kick It", featuring kindred spirit Iggy Pop. In one of the most bizarre courtship rituals ever, the two parties exchange their famous catchlines, with Iggy drawling "Ah, go fuck your pain away" and Peaches cooing: "Like you said, search and destroy" over the most infuriatingly catchy metal riff ever. Never one to understate, she goes even further over the edge with the mental "Rock'n'Roll": four minutes of unglued mania seemingly based on the riff from Motorhead's "Tear Ya Down."
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All of these will probably induce all kinds of chemically-assisted scenarios live, but actually she's even more threatening when she slows it down and gets all minimal on us. It's never less than full on: the trance-like "Stuff Me Up" features Peaches and guest Taylor Savvy waxing lyrical about "big clit and big dick" (mmm!), while she boasts; "I'm the kinda bitch you wanna get with" on "I'm The Kinda" and fervently espouses the benefits of "whips, crops, canes, whatever" on "I U She." Perhaps the best track, though, is "Tombstone, Baby" where the rythmic pulse recalls Suicide and Peaches raps from the hip like a youthful girly Elvis. I don't think I wanna know what she intends to do with the French toast, though.
"Fatherfucker" leaves precious little to the imagination, but of course that's the point. Simple, lascivious, manipulative and as profane as fuck, Peaches probably won't have a lengthy shelf life, but in terms of succumbing to the ultimate one night stand, she takes some beating. You definitely won't forget her come the morning, that's for sure.
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