‘Are the motherf—ers ready for the fatherf—ers? Are the fatherf—ers ready for the motherf—ers?’ So asks Peaches, the pink-fishnet-clad, femulleted, mic-deepthroating, electroclash goddess whose new album, Fatherf—er, provides a long-awaited follow-up to the cult hit The Teaches of Peaches. The above lyric comes from ‘Shake Yer Dix,’ one of the more seductive grooves on this fast, throbbing, gleefully dirrty record.
Peaches, a former schoolteacher, stands at the forefront of a new wave of sexually explicit female artists who project unapologetic carnality without all the come-hither, please-like-me BS. And Fatherf—er, make no mistake, is carnal from start to finish. Peaches wants sex and she wants you to have it with her. The mainstream female rock and hip-hop provocateurs have nothing on her; put simply, she makes Madonna, Missy, Lil’ Kim and Liz Phair look like a station wagon full of nuns.
Her shtick, of course, would be nothing without a sense of humor and, luckily, Peaches’ act is a scream. The sexy slow-groove of ‘I’m the Kinda’ features the phrase ‘my labia majora dancin’ the hora’ in the chorus. Surprisingly, Peaches’ voice has a certain softness and sweetness, even while she’s growling out sexual imperatives like a slutty drill sergeant.
Peaches’ electronic samples occasionally ooze together into an anonymous mass, and the album’s later tracks are distinguishable mostly by the varying degrees of dirty talk, not to mention the awesome titles (‘Stuff Me Up,’ ‘Back It Up, Boys’). The highlight, however, is ‘Kick It,’ an ecstatic, trash-talk punk duet between Peaches and Iggy Pop. Iggy: ‘I heard you like kinky s-.’ Peaches: ‘That just depends who I’m with.’ Iggy: ‘What is it, S’M or some kind of toy?’ Peaches: ‘Like you said, search and destroy.’ The sexual energy is primal, tangible and a blast to listen to.