after a slightly less punchy than the title/concept last album, peaches follows up her relentless ass-kicking festival-fisting frenzied recent parade of live shows with a nice, tight, pounding, at home & in your earphones experience via her new album “i feel cream”.
she doesn’t give a fuck if you call her, maul her, fall for her or follow her. which is essential, obviously. if she was any other flash in the pan, cling to your producer and the latest fashion photographer, full of her past-glories pop-whore she’d be screwed.
i have to say i’ve never found her previous albums the full squid – always more style than content, a solid six singles and some saucy filler. this time you get the feeling there’s at least five more full length eps worth of rank, rinsed-out horn-dog b-sides lying around the studio floor just waiting to be unleashed so they can dry hump your unsuspecting limbs…
this time the peach spreads her legs and sprinkles a whole lot wider. even covering a little kylie face-time in the uber tight “lose you”. you’re going to hear this baby on the radio and start thinking “is that the new peaches?! oh man, she’s sold out, too clean, blah, blah, etc” but before you’ve even reached for the skip button you’ll find yourself thumbing yourself mercilessly and pulling over to call your gf/bf/dj/pc or mac to beg them to start the download so you can get this goodness anytime you want it. which will be often.
where peaches gets it right isn’t just the variety – covering all the bases, satisfying all fans: brothers and sisters, fingerers and fisters – she clearly is still enjoying herself, and knows you should too. the transition between tracks and styles is smooth and unrelenting. only the slightly miss-able too-slick title track gives you time to reach for a glass of water before the staccato-slam dance crunked-up chorus reaches round and grabs you by the throat to pull you back under the spell/duvet/doona/disco ball (delete as appropriate).
and then you get “more”. more of the same, more than you asked for, more than you can take, but you know you’re gonna damn well try.
***WARNING: if you’ve ever OD-ed on anything don’t listen to this track unless you can handle the relapse. she’s nasty, sweet, seductive and firing on all beats. you will find yourself crawling to the porcelain telephone and trying to call your mum/jesus/the samaritans – anyone who’ll listen to your helpless pleas to stop the world spinning.
i first heard this on an easter weekend and after a relentless six laps out-loud even my orthodox christian greek neighbours were enraptured in the slick soul-slapping production and forsaking all others for her serpentine sounds. can i get a goddess-damn!!
stand-outs have to include the no-doubt soulwax produced “showstopper”. what can i say – it’s not the e-talking, but the grainy analogue synths (i pick upright korgs in there somewhere) that’ll run up your leg like warm pee in reverse, until your pogo-ing your way to oblivion.
and is that digitalism i hear offering the warm teet of “mommy complex”?
it’s enough to make a grown man cry- just for attention, of course…
“mud” continues the minimal mash: and trust me – it cannot be easy to make something this complicated sound so simple. peaches vents her vixen and shows she’s so much more than a rapping, ear-raping, one-trick pony. purring and cooing her way through so much filthy goodness with such syrupy succubus style she’d send alison goldfrapp back to her vocal coach in tears. again with the evil ass-slapping, glam, foot-stomping yet euro-tight grainy, distorted FUNK.
ladies and un-gentleman: i declare peaches has wrastled her mojo back into line and mercifully unleashed it upon us all. open your ears and say “aaahh…”