Back at the turn of the century, Peaches' big and brash "Fuck the Pain Away" was a tsunami. Electroclash was at its peak, such as it was, and when the sultry, leering opening line of “sucking on my titties like you wanted me” would spit out of a club PA, crowds of all orientations turned their heads. Sometimes a first impression that arresting can be an albatross, and while Peaches has carved out a substantial career for herself in both the music and art world, the straight press largely moved on.With Rub, Peaches' sixth studio album, she extends and builds upon the body of work she's accumulated in the past 15 years.
The overarching themes of Peaches' work—gender identity and expression, queer sex, leftist politics—are now more than ever at the forefront of our culture, which means her lyrics sound less transgressive than they might have even five years ago: "Can't talk right now/ This chick's dick is in my mouth" she deadpans on the album's title track. But Peaches has always been able to use her outré, sometimes downright silly, personality to shed light on real issues, like society's patriarchal disgust at the natural state of a woman's body. In the same song, when she sets up a scene of "circle jerk girls who spray/ we've got a male in the middle and we bukkake", she may be the only female pop musician working today who sings about sex while firmly and intentionally diverting the objectifying male gaze. While it may not always be pretty or elegant, it's damn necessary, and Rub does an excellent job of it.
But is Peaches' music secondary to her politics? Interestingly, the first voice you hear on Rub isn't Peaches', but the distinctive whisper-moan of Kim Gordon. On album opener "Close Up", Gordon purrs for Peaches to get closer to the camera as she raps/speaks about her sexual exploits (the song's video features Gordon coaching Peaches through a shit-smearing wrestling match). The track's catchy, powerful bass drum beat threads throughout Rub, which benefits from a driving dance element, much like a sonic sequel to 2009's electro-heavy I Feel Cream. R**ub is the first album in her career where the music feels as foregrounded as Peaches' persona, which makes sense, as she co-produced it with Vice Cooler.
Rub's centerpiece is "Free Drink Ticket", an altogether strange offering that doesn't quite mesh with the rest of the album. With her voice downpitched to sound more masculine, Peaches delivers an almost stream-of-consciousness diatribe against a pretentious club promoter. It sounds jarringly personal, and lyrically is strikingly different from every other track. It's a misstep that is corrected by "Dumb Fuck", the closest thing Rub has to a straightforward pop song (even though it contains about 35 F-bombs). With it's Robyn-esque disco synths and biting lyrics, "Dumb Fuck" is a call for feminists everywhere to ditch their boyfriends for Roland MC-505s.
"I Mean Something", the album's closer and duet with fellow Canadian/frequent collaborator/ex-roommate Feist, sees Peaches defiantly state Rub's most telling line: "No matter how old, how young, how sick/ I mean something." Is that a hint of desperation? Aggression? Bravado? Perhaps, realistically, a mixture of all three, both an assertion of Peaches' rightful place in the trenches of the culture wars and an artistic plea for attention.
