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THE REVIEW
On a February Saturday morning in Paris, I wish I were a hippie, but I've forgotten how to love. And besides, I’m bald.
I discovered the Moldy Peaches thanks to the track "Who's got the crack", covered by Doherty & Barat in the famous "Babyshambles Sessions", and played repeatedly live by Pete, who quite rightfully made it a kind of minor battlehorse ("Who's got the Crack?" "You"). Adam Green himself, one of the two voices of the MP, is friends with the two former libertines, having performed their "What a Waster" (also in the "Babyshambles Sessions"), and consequently, he gets stressed at every concert he's in where he's regularly asked to play it (lesson number one: never add a Libs cover to your repertoire). But the relationship with the Albionites is just one of the "important" friendships of the Moldy Peaches. Among many, they can also boast a friendship with the Strokes, even strengthened by family ties (Kimya, the other voice of the group, is the cousin of the "ultra-cool" Fab Moretti).
Just another case of friendly and familial favoritism, then? Kimya Dawson like DJ Francesco?
No, fortunately not.
And, also fortunately, the musical parallels with Strokes and Libertines are practically nonexistent. The MPs define themselves as an "anti-folk" band, and I'd say the definition fits perfectly. No Britpop, no driving drums, or little trin trin riffs with lalala choruses. In 19 songs, rather indolent ballads alternate with musical experiments more akin to children playing with musical genres rather than people seriously experimenting. Decide for yourself whether this can make you like or loathe them. There are few accelerations, as in the case of the track I mentioned at the start or the garage of "NYC's like a graveyard" or the quirky boogie of "Downloading porn with Davo". The number of tracks is high, but between nonsensical solos, flutes, fried cardboard guitars, limp winds, and Dixan-drums, the album manages not to be heavy, especially since the most absurd songs have minimal durations. The union of the two voices works well: Green is undoubtedly the cooler character of the duo, with a face that’s a curious mix between Zach Braff (70%) and Casablancas (for the remaining 30%), while vocally the proportions reverse. He preferably sings the lows. Kimya, being chubby, awkward, and rustic, doubles him on the highs, sometimes singing alternative verses instead of repeating the same words. The contribution to the final result is not equally distributed (Green is better), but the two support each other. Even the attitude is slightly different, more sluggish, laconic, and vaguely European for Green, definitely more American, like a sweet and excluded teddy bear for Kimya (I refuse to call her just "Dawson" for obvious reasons). The lyrics are certainly not those of Lou Reed, but they have inspired moments, and above all, they neither feel fake nor intentionally weird or pseudo-intellectual. On the contrary, the emptiness that probably often dwells in their heads is even mentioned on a couple of occasions. There are stronger portraits, jokes, references to various characters, sadder moments, nursery rhymes. Nonetheless, they also tackle rather classic themes: she is envious of the slim girls he likes, he is an outsider, neither conformist nor anti-conformist ("who will I put it in?" Good question, Adam).
I would include the Moldy Peaches among those bands that claim not to take themselves too seriously but actually believe in what they do, which to me is a merit. I listen to them with no expectations, they play with no expectations, in short, here no one expects more from '78, so, at least as a minor band, they might not look out of place in your playlist.
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Summary by Bot
This review highlights The Moldy Peaches' distinct anti-folk style, characterized by playful experimentation and endearing imperfections. The interplay between Adam Green's cooler vocals and Kimya Dawson's quirky charm adds depth to the album's diverse tracks. Despite its casual, minimalistic approach, the album conveys genuine emotions and relatable outsider themes. Friendships with bands like Libertines and the Strokes add context but don't define their unique sound. Overall, the album is recommended for listeners seeking something authentic and unpretentious.Tracklist Lyrics Videos
02 Jorge Regula (03:06)
My name is Jorge Regula. (My name is Jorge Regula.)
I'm walkin' down the street. (I'm walking down the street)
I love you (I love you)
Let's go to the beach.
Let's go sailing. (Let's go sailing)
Let's get a bite to eat. (let's get a bite to eat)
Let's go to sleep.
i wake up in the morning. (I wake up in the morning)
Put on my yellow shirt. (I put on my yellow shirt)
I get a bite to eat. (I get a bite to eat)
I go to work.
I'm the AV guy. (I'm the AV guy)
I'm the A, F and Y guy. (I'm the A, F and Y guy)
I'm the piano guy. (I'm the piano guy)
Let's go to sleep.
I wrote a new song. (I wrote a new song)
It has a good beat. (it has a good beat)
Let's talk about movies. (let's talk about movies)
Let's get a bite to eat.
My name is Jorge Regula.. (My name is Jorge Regula..)
I'm walkin' down the street. (I'm walking down the street)
I love you (I love you)
Let's go to sleep.
05 Downloading Porn With Davo (02:24)
Sleeping in a van between A and B
Sucking dick for ecstasy
Paid a 70 year old hooker to make out with me
Now the get-high shack is just a memory
Downloading porn with Davo
Downloading porn with Davo
Put a latch on the door so Mama don't know
That I'm downloading porn with Davo
Tried to buy your love but I came up short
So I f**ked a little waitress in exchange for a snort
My girl's got a dick hanging out of her shorts
Me and Eric in the bathroom with the weather report
Downloading porn with Davo
Downloading porn with Davo
Put a latch on the door so Mama don't know
That I'm downloading porn with Davo
Oh baby I know you love the good old days
Cruising on the Long Island expressway
I used to be dead but now I'm gay
All I ever think about is drowning, drowning
Downloading porn with Davo
Downloading porn with Davo
Put a latch on the door so Mama don't know
That I'm downloading porn with Davo
06 These Burgers (02:01)
When the world's got you down
Rainy Sundays, sunny town
Tropicana, canned foods
Botulism, damaged goods
See the hipsters in the park
Hair so styled, clothes so dark
Prefab molded hamburgers
I don't want a bite of yours
These burgers are crazy
These burgers are crazy
These burgers are crazy
These burgers are crazy
They don't like you, never will
They slip you the happy pill
Assimilation, so they think
Send you to the naughty shrink
You just tell him lies, lies
Paranoia, bugs and flies
You don't like them, never did
You don't like them, never did
These burgers are crazy
These burgers are crazy
These burgers are crazy
These burgers are crazy
08 On Top (02:03)
Just a cool cat in a small town
(Small town)
Working my ass at a Walbounds
(Walbounds)
Waiting to groove in a hip town
(Hip town)
Get down
I'm waiting for the sound of a new town
Trying to avoid a little beat down
(Beat down)
of a white boy who thinks that he's down
(He's down)
That's me
And I'm waiting to succeed
I might be just a little kid
but I know what rocks
Rap is out
the Moldy Peaches are at the top
We hate dance and we hate rap
But we like to contradict ourselves
And that's alright
09 Greyhound Bus (01:15)
I ride the Greyhound bus, I ride it everywhere.
Oh how I count the ways. The answer lies within me.
I love my rollerskates, I ride them everywhere.
Circle, frozey, turtle knee. How can I find the saviour?
Got the coolest BMX, I ride it everywhere.
'Cause nobler to die for truth, is holy to repair one sin.
My daddy has a Subaru, I ride it everywhere.
Well mine travles like a wave, my mind travles like a wave.
Well I ride it everywhere.
10 Anyone Else but You (02:59)
You're a part time lover and a full time friend
The monkey on your back is the latest trend
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of a train
I kiss you all starry eyed, my body's swinging from side to side
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Here is the church and here is the steeple
We sure are cute for two ugly people
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
The pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me
So why can't, you forgive me?
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
I will find my nitch in your car
With my mp3 DVD rumple-packed guitar
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu du
Up up down down left right left right B A start
Just because we use cheats doesn't mean we're not smart
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
You are always trying to keep it real
I'm in love with how you feel
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
We both have shiny happy fits of rage
You want more fans, I want more stage
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Don Quixote was a steel driving man
My name is Adam I'm your biggest fan
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Squinched up your face and did a dance
You shook a little turd out of the bottom of your pants
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu du
But you
12 The Ballad of Helen Keller & Rip Van Winkle (02:08)
Burn it all up
Hanging in the street
Enlightenment
Whining, mercy me
Take my hand now, love
Down the stairs, your father walks
I will lead the way
His hair is falling grey
Leave them behind
Runnin' to the sea
Don't make a sound
Twitching silently
Take my hand now, love
Down the stairs, your father walks
I will lead the way
His hair is falling grey
No matter what they say,
I can make you stay
15 D.2. Boyfriend (01:39)
When I was in middle school, I had a group of friends.
We wore jean jackets and sunglasses and we listened to Duran Duran.
There were 6 of us so when we played it didn't add up you see.
Everybody had a Duran Duran boyfriend but me.
I wasn't dating Nick Rhodes, I wasn't dating Rodger Tyler,
I wasn't dating John Tyler I wasn't dating Andy Tyler,
I wasn't dating Simon Le Bon.
I was sitting by myself with my collar up,
a tear in my eye and an aching in my heart.
And my converse on.
My converse on.
My glow- in- the- dark with pink fat laces, zebra- striped converse on.
If you are a kid and no-one will play with you,
stick it out, stay tough and you'll turn out super cool.
When I go to a party, everybody looks the same,
I'm the one they recognise, everybody knows my name.
Everybody knows my name.
Be yourself, don't do, what everybody, tells you to do.
Be yourself, be proud of yourself, you'll be cool.
Supercool!
Don't be a fool.
16 I Forgot (02:09)
Down in the alley,
What's your mother made of?
Heads up, Seven Up
Ding dong, come in!
I left my wood paneling
On the embassy coat rack
Where is mankind?
My big black behind
Follow your star
Play your guitar
I said candyland
He said toyland
Queen frosting, eleven-teen
Arzipan
Adam?
I forgot!
Where is mankind?
My big black behind
Follow your star
Play your guitar
17 Lazy Confessions (01:48)
Lazy confessions
Crazy intentions
Scratching unwilling
Sports cars are thrilling
I like potatoes
I don't like tomatoes
I'm goin' fishin
Cos' I'm on a mission
I wanna live for today
I wanna roll in the hay
But I'm floating away
I got nothing to say
It makes me slappy
To walk like your pappy
I need to improvise
Just lookin' at the pies
Boohoo I'm dying
Ravenous sighing
I think you're pretty
My shrink says I'm witty
I wanna live for today
I wanna roll in the hay
But I'm floating away
I got nothing to say
But I'm floating away
I got nothing to say
18 NYC's Like a Graveyard (03:15)
New York City's like a graveyard
All the corpses like the way I play my guitar
You've gotta be cute if you wanna get far
New York City's like a graveyard
All the tombstones- sky scrapin'
All the rock stars double datin'
So if you hate me, go on hating
You've been waiting your whole life for this moment to be waitin'
We've got it!! (x4)
All those hookers in their fucking car
Twelve steppin' hippies hangin' out at the bar
Suckers and fuckers and stupid retards
New York City's like a graveyard
We've got it!! (x4)
All the yuppies getting married
All the yuppies getting buried
Singing in this city's like singing on the prairie
New York City's like a cemetary
The Moldy Peaches
An American anti-folk duo led by Adam Green and Kimya Dawson, known for lo-fi, playful songs and candid lyrics. Their self-titled album (the subject of the provided review) contains 19 tracks that mix short, absurd pieces with occasional faster garage moments.01 Reviews
