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 City’s 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 York’s Antifolk festival two years ago and recording last year’s 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 “Who’s 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 duo’s 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 aren’t Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young would be missing the point. The band’s fun lies in their irreverence for rock cliches, and their ability to sing “You’ve gotta have rain to have rainbows/ You’ve gotta have dick to have dick in your mouth,” with a straight face. The music, too, isn’t just filler between the jokes and wardrobe changes — it’s surprising, energetic, and catchy as hell. If the Strokes are elegantly wasted, then these guys are just elegantly stupid, but it’s 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 weren’t any rock’ n’ roll clowns to make us laugh, there wouldn’t be any place to hide from the Stainds and Creeds of the world.

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