Peaches: Father

By REBECCA BARRY

(Herald rating: * * * )


Marking her territory as "queen of electro crap" Peaches redefined the relationship between music and sex with The Teaches of Peaches. The lo-fi beats, subversive wit and onstage undies made her an underground art-damaged superstar, with dance music fans getting particularly worked up by her rock'n'roll persona.

Yet in a laughable you-can't-touch-me way she introduces her follow-up with the line, "I don't give a [expletive] about my reputation." It's a painfully obvious mistruth that can't help but mix a little cringe-factor with the excitement that comes from listening to this one-woman freakshow.

This time round there's just as much flirtation between style and substance as she sings, speaks or screeches over drums that sound like they come from pushing "demo" on the keyboard.

Things get more interesting when she uses a little trip-hop to seduce Taylor Savvy on Stuff Me Up and throws raunchy guitars and testosterone into the mix with Iggy Pop on Kick It. But even the godfather of punk can't save this from being a slightly dull parade of potty-mouthed posturing. If she's not careful, she'll start living up to that self-appointed royal title.

Label: XL Recordings