Peaches

Whatever your politics, you have to admit that the title of Impeach My Bush, the third album by Berlin-based raunch-rap mistress Peaches, is a joke whose time has come. (Titles might be Peaches' true talent — see also 2003's Fatherfucker.) Whether or not Impeach offers more than exemplary wordplay comes...

By Mikael Wood

July 13, 2006

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Whatever your politics, you have to admit that the title of Impeach My Bush, the third album by Berlin-based raunch-rap mistress Peaches, is a joke whose time has come. (Titles might be Peaches' true talent — see also 2003's Fatherfucker.) Whether or not Impeach offers more than exemplary wordplay comes down to your fondness for chintzy keyboard-preset beats and calls for a reconfigured nightlife scene in which two guys exist for every girl. In truth, Peaches' shtick has gotten rather tired, which is a better thing for society than for music. I'm not at all bummed that a woman writing songs about giving you a "tent in your pants" has lost her shock value; considering the exploitive bullshit men get away with every day on MTV, it only seems fair. Still, it's telling that Impeach is best when Peaches solicits help from her wide circle of friends: Joan Jett gives "You Love It" a crucial dose of punk-dive drive; Queen of the Stone Age Josh Homme laces "Give 'Er" with fuzzy robot-rock guitar; Samantha Maloney, formerly of Hole, plays live drums in "Do Ya," which loosens up Peaches' flow. Without them, what Peaches teaches would hit nowhere near as hard.

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