When You're Strange (3)

Moldy Peaches in your face

Are you ready for the anti-folk of the Moldy Peaches? I sure wasn’t when I first heard them. I was in my teens and while that should have been the PER-FECT time to enjoy them, instead, I hated Adam Green and Kimya Dawson. Annoying had two names. Why would anyone listen to this? And why did Adam and Kimya write and record this junk?

Before we continue, press play above. Even if you know the Moldy Peaches by heart, listen to them while you read this article. Because writing about music can be like dancing about architecture as Adorno so accurately stated. This is why this article is a free ride and will not linger too long on anything.

But hey, I’m starting to feel okay

So why was this junk written and why listen to it? To have fun! To face the absurdity of reality and laugh at it.

Lucky Number Nine

Indie boys are neurotic
Makes my eyes bleed
Tight black pants, exotic
Some loving is what I need
But, hey, I'm startin' to feel okay
Lucky number nine, hooray

Sepia on the staircase
Mirror in the back of my brain
Makes these hard pants feel great
I used to like to complain
But, hey, I'm startin' to feel okay
Lucky number nine, hooray

Bloody Mary, mother of God
Grandpa's on the hobby horse again
Tamping, broken pants chaffing
I'm running out of ethnic friends
But, hey, I'm startin' to feel okay
Lucky number nine, hooray

We are looking at music in the nude. That is what the Moldy Peaches are. On their 2001 debut they explore their bodies to the fullest.

Take Jorge Regula. After the introduction (my name is Jorge Regula) the lyrics of this song continue as a series of activities: let's go to eat, I'm hungry, I'm going to sleep, I go to work. Etcetera. It is amazing how no-nonsense lyrics about everyday movements somehow create a tension that is incredibly appealing and keep a listener focused. And then and then and then?

They apply the same straightforwardness to their music. The Moldy Peaches officially disrespect:

-polished sounds;

-any coordinated playing of music together;

-playing to the beat;

-singing in tune;

-well-thought out solos;

Their anti-folk debut is filled with gems that break rules. Any rule.

What Went Wrong. The only song I know that sounds like a B-movie alien slaughter scene. The attack on Brian May type of solos in Nothing Came Out which magnifies the sad emotions in musical horror. And what about that out of tune recorder solo on what track again? The drummer’s destruction on Greyhound Bus and the faulty edits in the track? The nerdy beasty boys imitation in On Top? The cracky chorus on Who’s Got The Crack after the ballady intro chords?

Jinkies! What a delightful eccentric mishmash of joyful sound this is.

We are not those kids sitting on the couch!

What is left for The Moldy Peaches to respect? Honesty. And this is their claim to fame if you’d ask me. They are honest about themselves, others and the world around them. There are no boundaries (Downloading Porn With Davo). What cannot be shared in their songwriting universe?

This makes their lameness convincing. It is why their comedy rings true and makes you laugh and cringe out loud. Their songs push everything in your face like a pie. This intense, awkward, at times insane, literalness and directness even has a poetic effect in my opinion. Also note that apart from all the comedy, a lot of politics, punk and gender-related stuff is brooding.

To bring this across they have quite a number of tricks up their sleeves. Steak for Chicken is a work of naughty songwriting genius. Green’s and Dawson’s two vocal lines sing something different - especially at the end of each line - and as a listener you cannot register and understand both. It is hilarious to notice that at the end of each line your attention is always drawn to the coarser of the two.

As a listener you have to open yourself up to them and join in their buffoonery and be vulnerable. Ultimately, everything is strange and nothing is really strange in the Green and Dawson songplays.

Shattering the Mirror Mask

So… Did I take myself too seriously as a teenager? Absolutely. Did I take The Moldy Peaches too seriously? Yes? But even though I didn’t like them, the confrontation with their music kickstarted a process of reflection with me.

I was aspiring to become a musician. So why did I not like this type of music? What was I looking for in music?

This is the irony of Moldy Peaches songs. Carelessness evokes reflection. And carelessly Green and Dawson reflected on anything that left their mouth.

In a sense their destructive anti-folk was ahead of what was to come: the unfiltered internet realm and its content infinity. A realm with an irony of its own. It demands fresh peaches only.

F***k fresh peaches. We need moldy ones. Their ruthless honest eccentricity can shatter what I call the mirror mask.

Or in Adam Green’s words:

“I don’t know what it would be like to be starting the Moldy Peaches now,” says Green. They existed in an unselfconscious era, pre internet, where they “got to tour and not feel like we were under surveillance” and where social media hadn’t steamrolled individualism into one “traditional” and more uniform mass. [from the Guardian in 2023]