Veteran Toronto folksinger Merrill Nisker converted to punk-rock, joined the
Shit with fellow provocateur Gonzales,
adopted the aesthetic of the riot-grrrrls,
enhanced it with a quasi-porn show, moved from Canada to Berlin armed with
a drum-machine and a sampler, invented the persona of rapper Peaches,
and recorded an album of sex-centric electronic dance music,
The Teaches Of Peaches (Kitty Yo, 2001), that basically sets
Blondie to the rhythm of Salt'n'Pepa
and Liz Phair to the rhythm of
If Diddle My Skittle can rank with high-brow experiemnts in
industrial syncopation and pummeling,
the hummable and danceable rap of Fuck the Pain Away and
the lascivious hiccupping funk music of Lovertits
are pure adolescent prankishness.
On the other hand, Suck And Let Go morphs from
minimalist electronic boogie into
a mini-concerto of scratching noise and drilling beats
Basically, the Cramps set to disco beats.
Fatherfucker (XL, 2003) is almost the alter-ego of Peaches:
shy and confused. The likes of I Don't Give a Fuck are not even
repetitive: just trivial. The dances (The Inch) are not much to dance
to, and the rockers (Rock'n'Roll, Kick It) are third-rate
Stooges and AC/DC material.
Impeach My Bush (XL, 2006) was still a bit too amateurish, but the
concept of danceable (and rocking) satirical sexual exhibition and brutal
vulgarity was beginning to make inroads. Regardless of the lyrics,
Tent In Your Pants was an irresistible rap and Slippery Dick
was a competent tribute to industrial arrangements.
The mostly electronic and guitar-less
I Feel Cream (Beggars XL, 2009), featuring collaborations with Soulwax,
Digitalism and Simian Mobile Disco
(besides the usual Gonzales),
wasn't exactly outrageous in the age
of Lady Gaga (although the lewd lyrics tried very hard),
but a few of the dance jams were still consummable.
I Feel Cream
(her take on house music, with echoes of hippy-era musical Aquarius)
and especially Talk to Me (in which she dumps the
in order to impersonate the disco diva of the 1970s) were the ones that
had a chance to survive once the wordplay became obsolete.
The best heir to the Tent In Your Pants-kind of rap was
Trick or Treat.
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