The
Moldy Peaches Blow Up The Cat, Speaker
by John MacDonald
Looking
like a bunch of rejects from the Village People and loving it, New
York Citys The Moldy Peaches stormed the Cat in the Cream
Monday night with their own unique brand of anti-folk.
This duo and their band, though, are much more then a buzz word.
Since performing for New Yorks Antifolk festival two years
ago and recording last years self-titled debut on BMG/Sanctuary
Records, which landed them a slot opening for the überhyped
Strokes, they have seen their popularity steadily rise show after
show. Their boredom-inspired, irony-laced little rock songs cover
everything from riding Greyhound buses to downloading porn. On Monday
they got the tightly packed student crowd out of its first-day-of-classes
blues and on to its eager feet.
Opening
up was Cockroach, a heavy set New Yorker who looked like he jumped
straight from a nü metal band directly into a coffee shop with
his growling vocals, acoustic guitar and well-conceived ballads.
His sincerity contrasted interestingly with the Peaches jangly
pop hooks, wry looks, and hilarious lyrics. The band is fronted
by singers Adam Green, who looked like Beck in a superhero costume
with sunglasses, and Kimya Dawson, who resembled a clown in mourning
with her face paint and black dress. Not to be outdone, their back
up band played their lo-fi punky folk wearing everything from a
bright yellow astronaut body suit to a Chicago Bears football helmet.
After Cockroach wooed the audience into a contemplative hush, The
Moldy Peaches jumped onstage with their ridiculous costumes and
soon dove into the head-pounding Greyhound Bus. They
continued their beautiful mess (despite a monitor frying in the
middle of a song) for one raucously good hour. Those who know their
tunes missed their beloved cover of Little Bunny Foo Foo,
but Whos Got the Crack seemed at least as light-hearted
to the receptive crowd. The Peaches were also pros at getting
the crowd to play along in their rock farce. They prompted students
to get out of their seats and bounce along with them in front of
the stage, asked them to clap and sing along and even called them
pussies when they missed a line, though Kimya later
humbly apologized.
Despite their unique look and wit, the duos singing sounded
more like two friends drunk past last call (which got a little grating
during those missed high notes). But to disregard the Moldy Peaches
because they arent Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young would
be missing the point. The bands fun lies in their irreverence
for rock cliches, and their ability to sing Youve gotta
have rain to have rainbows/ Youve gotta have dick to have
dick in your mouth, with a straight face. The music, too,
isnt just filler between the jokes and wardrobe changes
its surprising, energetic, and catchy as hell. If the Strokes
are elegantly wasted, then these guys are just elegantly stupid,
but its the full knowledge of that fact that gives them such
appeal.
Though a little heavy on the irony, the Moldy Peaches entertained
sincerely throughout and proved that there is some truth in their
comparisons with the Strokes. If there werent any rock
n roll clowns to make us laugh, there wouldnt be any
place to hide from the Stainds and Creeds of the world.
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