Peaches

Listening to Peaches is a lot like dating that girl who loves to flash her tits. When you’re too drunk to know better, she’s endlessly entertaining. But in the light of morning, you always find yourself feeling dirty. But what do you expect from a 40-year-old woman whose artistic output still consists of gratuitous references to dicks and pussies and the “mangina” that she’s been obsessing about since she shook up the electroclash scene almost 10 years ago? Thankfully, Peaches avoids the mistakes of shock rockers and frat-party whores by keeping the act fresh. Where her debut album, Teaches of Peaches, consisted of little more than setting George Carlin’s “Seven Dirty Words” to minimalist bass lines, she updated the sound with harder-edged, harder-rocking tracks on her next album, Fatherfucker. Her latest album, meanwhile, polishes up the sparse dance beats from her first album to create a truly danceable sound. The titty and clit mentions are still there, just channeled more obliquely, which allows for a more clever presentation that lets you pretend you shouldn’t feel filthy for loving every minute of it.