Peaches Albums (4)
What The Critics Say
"Subtle" isn't usually a word associated with Peaches' music, but it applies to I Feel Cream surprisingly often. Yes, even though she proclaims someone a "mangina" in one song and herself a "stage whore" in another, this set of songs is often more restrained, and even mature, than Peaches has been in the past -- and not just because she tells a lover to lick her crow's feet on "Trick or Treat." I Feel Cream is far more electronic and dancefloor-oriented than her music has been in years; in sharp contrast to Impeach My Bush's electro-glam rock, this album has absolutely no guitars. It also features more collaborations with other producers than Peaches' previous work. Along with Gonzales, with whom she's worked since the Teaches of Peaches days, she enlists Digitalism, Soulwax, Drums of Death, and her former remixers Simian Mobile Disco to help take her music in different directions. Some of these don't quite work -- "Lose You," an icy, fragile ballad, is pretty but doesn't quite work as a way to show Peaches' vulnerable side, and "Mud"'s chilly sound is similarly at odds with her fiery persona -- but most of them do. "Talk to Me" is a standout, with Soulwax providing an electro-soul backdrop for some of Peaches' most powerful singing. It's raw, it's direct, and it's nearly as big a step forward as the album's title track: "I Feel Cream" takes the breathy appeal of Impeach My Bush's "Downtown" and turns it into gauzily erotic disco about love/lust at first sight in the club that feels like the heiress to "More, More, More" and "I Feel Love"'s abstract-yet-explicit come-ons. Only her rap, which rhymes "guitar hero" with "DeNiro" and "Robert Shapiro," makes it obvious that this is a Peaches song. There are also plenty of moments that aren't groundbreaking, but still show that Merill Nisker has a lot to say about sex, music, and pop culture nearly a decade after Teaches of Peaches was released. "Billionaire" is classic, tough-talking Peaches, with hard-hitting production, a cameo by Yo Majesty's Shunda K., and a chorus that boils the song down to its talking points ("Billionaire/love affair/take you there)." "Mommy Complex" is kinky and intellectual, juxtaposing zipless fucks and baby's breath, while "Showstopper" lives up to its name, barreling in on fiercely buzzing synths and sweaty beats. Interestingly, most of I Feel Cream's more subdued moments were produced by Peaches herself: "Take You On" and "Relax"'s quietly hypnotic grooves suggest that she's not so much abandoning electro-clash -- which she rhymes with "backlash" on "Serpentine (I Don't Give A...Pt. 2)" -- as she is giving it nuance. What better way to show that you "don't give a fuck" than to find more and different ways to say that? ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
On Peaches' last album, the intermittently tired- and inspired-sounding Fatherfucker, she sounded almost weary of singing about sex -- a pretty dangerous place for her to be, considering that it's her main source of inspiration. Fortunately, though, Impeach My Bush shakes that not-so-fresh feeling. Even though the album's sound sticks to the glam, punk, and electro foundations of her music, and the lyrics stick to the territory she knows best, Impeach My Bush is the sassiest and most engaged Merrill Nisker has sounded since The Teaches of Peaches. This is also most eclectic-sounding set of songs yet. Co-producers Mickey Petralia, who also made Ladytron's Witching Hour a fascinating (and totally different) sounding album, and Greg Kurstin, who has also sculpted beats for Gwen Stefani and Lily Allen, give Impeach My Bush a bigger, slicker sound than Peaches' previous work, but that helps her cover musical territory that ranges from the heavy-breathing glam/disco fusion of "Boys Wanna Be Her" to "Downtown," a breathy, almost coy confection that glides along on synth strings and sounds sexy as well as sexual -- a Peaches first. Of course, the album also has plenty of room for several different flavors of electro, be it buzzy ("Get It"), sleek ("Tent in Your Pants"), or just plain filthy ("Slippery Dick"). And while Impeach My Bush doesn't rock as hard as Fatherfucker, it rocks smarter: "You Love It" plays like a sexed-up, gender-swapped update of "He Hit Me (And It Felt Like a Kiss)" and is taken to the next level by Joan Jett's vocals and guitars, while "Give 'Er" boasts handclaps that could be face-slaps and backing vocals that sound like taunting battle cries. Even though Impeach My Bush's stylishly hyperactive sound is the most immediately enticing thing about the album, Peaches' inimitable lyrics make themselves known soon enough, particularly on "Rock the Shocker," where she admonishes a guy to "stop relying on your dick" and on "Two Guys for Every Girl" (which includes backing vocals by the Gossip's Beth Ditto), which name-checks Heidi Fleiss. Spilling over with dominatrix anthems in the making, Impeach My Bush shows that despite the album's not-so-thinly-veiled jab at the Commander in Chief -- and the sequined burkha Nisker wears on its cover -- Peaches is still a force to be reckoned with in the arena of sexual politics. Even if it's not as traffic-stopping as her debut, this album suggests that she can keep her music interesting for the long haul. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
The acclaim and exposure Peaches received for her debut album, The Teaches of Peaches, definitely didn't inspire her to make her act more mainstream for her second album. If anything, from its title on down, Fatherfucker is even more explicit and outre. That Peaches is still trying new things and pushing the envelope should be a good thing; sometimes it is, but there's a limit to just how far sheer outrageousness will take her. In fact, Fatherfucker's most "outrageous" moments are its weakest: the album's opening track, "I Don't Give a ...," loops Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation" while Peaches screams "I don't give a f*ck, I don't give a sh*t." It's an explosive introduction to the album, but not a particularly good one. Likewise, "Rock 'n' Roll" apes her debut's "Rock Show" with diminished results, and "Kick It," the duet between Peaches and Iggy Pop, should be more exciting than it actually it is (was "some people don't like my crotch" the best they could come up with?). These songs, along with the potty-grade sexuality of "Shake Yer Dix," could give the mistaken impression that Peaches is just rehashing her previous work with less creativity, but that's not entirely true. Several of Fatherfucker's tracks rival and surpass The Teaches of Peaches when it comes to being witty, sexy, and danceable at the same time: the stark beats on "I'm the Kinda" leave all the more room for Peaches to name-check Sodom, Gomorrah, and Rocky Balboa; "I U She" celebrates try-sexuality with drums like a revving engine; and "Back It Up, Boys" is a booty-shaking tribute to the right side of men's backsides. Interestingly, the cooler, atmospheric songs on Fatherfucker are its best and most immediate moments, as opposed to the buzzy electro-pop songs that dominated The Teaches of Peaches. "The Inch" and "Bag It" close out the album with a spare, eerie sexiness, but the album's best songs are -- perhaps not coincidentally -- its least blatantly sexual. On the vampish "Operate," Peaches preys on some unsuspecting, unconscious man to use for experimental surgery, while on the whispery electro-blues of "Tombstone, Baby" it sounds like she's on the lam (possibly for carving up that guy in the previous song). In some ways, it's too bad that Peaches didn't wait to come up with more full-fledged tracks like these to flesh out the album; as it stands, there are enough good tracks to make a solid mini-album. People looking to finally cremate electroclash's remains will find some fuel for the fire here, but ultimately this album is neither the triumph or the disaster that it could've been. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Originally released by the German label Kitty-Yo in 2000, The Teaches of Peaches is a crash course in Peaches' (aka Merrill Nisker) punk-disco burlesque. "Sucking on my titties like you wanna be callin' me all the time like Blondie/Check out my Chrissie be-Hynde it's fine all of the time" she sings on the opening manifesto "Fuck the Pain Away," which crystallizes her sound and approach -- her music is equal parts sex, humor, rock, and dance, with her frank, and often frankly hilarious, lyrics riding atop stark drumbeats, throbbing basslines, and repetitive but undeniably rockin' guitar riffs. Trashy, energetic tracks like "Rock Show" and "Lovertits" -- which is strangely reminiscent of the Stones' disco period, à la "Emotional Rescue" -- put the "rude" back in rudimentary; it's the kind of cleverly stupid music that's made by pretty bright people. Indeed, it's quite possible to read all sort of women's studies theories into Peaches' music; she's unrepentantly, triumphantly sexual and turns the tables by objectifying guys (particularly on "AA XXX," where she sings, "I like the innocent type/Deer in the headlights," and on the funny, kinky "Hot Rod," where she demands "Huh? What? Show me whatcha got/Rub it against my thigh"), but the fact that her sexually explicit music isn't presented as a bravely feminist act is, paradoxically, exactly what's so liberating about it. Things start to falter on The Teaches of Peaches when the tempo slows down and the electronic elements are emphasized, as on "Diddle My Skittle," "Suck and Let Go," and "Felix Partz," which feel a little draggy compared to the album's high-octane first half but do have a hypnotic pull that's worth noting. However, the flirty, disco-inspired "Set It Off" and bitchy breakup song "Cum Undun" express her punk attitude and dance ambitions much more naturally. And even though songs like "Sucker" sound a bit warmed-over, it's fairly remarkable for an artist with such a brash, distinctive style that she doesn't start repeating herself until the very end of the album. Funny, sexy, outrageous, and danceable (not to mention endlessly quotable) all at once, The Teaches of Peaches is a great introduction to a unique artist who defines herself by gleefully blurring boundaries. The 2002 reissue on Beggars/XL includes a bonus disc of covers and remixes that map out Peaches' influences and contemporaries, including her versions of Jeans Team's "Keine Melodien" and Berlin's "Sex (I'm A)," a new version of "Felix Partz" featuring Gonzales, Kid 606's remix of "Fuck the Pain Away," and a mix of "Set It Off" by Tobi Neuman. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
