Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeej!
You know what Peej is? Peej is freaking OK in my book.
I’m going to share a little personal Peej story – a ‘PPS’ in legal terminology – but only because I imagine it might be one shared by many fat white losers my age. I’m not a fat white loser of any age, I feel I should make that clear, I just think this tale will resonate with fat white losers of a certain age.
Growing up in the late 80s/early-to-mid 90s, I was a huge music fan, I was very much plugged into British music journalism. Listen, sorry that I wasn’t down at the front covered in some shitty Camden gig venue watching some shitty Camden indie band covered in the shitty Camden vomit of some shitty Camden trustafarians trying hard to affect a shitty cockney accent, but I was twelve years old. Oh, and I was brought up well, so I was taught to avoid London before I was taught to avoid syphilis. Maybe you were a cool enough preteen to go to Longpigs gigs in 1994, but I had to stick to my Select, NME, Q (occasionally) Vox, Melody Maker and (if I was desperate) Kerrang magazines, thank you very much.
To me – and I’m guessing a lot of people like me – surrounded by such a patriarchal and heteronormative cultural power structure – Peej was kinda the first female artist that you were allowed to like? I was introduced to her properly through a girl who I think was called Sarah who I actually met through -and you’ll like this – the personals in the back of Select magazine. I messaged her. She messaged back. We vibed, though that term hadn’t been invented yet, back in the 90’s we called it ‘Pauly Shoring’. We Pauly Shored. I introduced her to Prince and Nick Cave, she introduced me to Peej and Courtney Love (the latter whom I imagine allowed a similar amount of fat white losers in America to ‘like’ a female artist). She played me Courtney Hole’s version of You Know You’re Right, so I knew the song well years before the other fat white losers heard it. I asked for her to recommend the greatest Peej album for first timers. She recommended me the album of freaking ‘4-Track Demos‘ that she released in 1993! Like, what?? So I went out. And bought it. On CD. And I still have it. And I love it. Lick my legs, I’m on fire.
So yeah, Peej is always close to my heart. But not so close that I won’t shit on her if she warrants it. Because I have journalistic integrity. And you know what ‘journalistic integrity’ means? It means not worrying about shit splashing onto your heart when shit needs to be sprayed. And on her last album, ‘The Hope 6 Demolition Project‘, a little bit of shit needed to be sprayed on it. It was, as a far better writer than me said at the time, “an almost bland and inoffensive style of chugging riffs and indistinct indie rock“. Peej’s commercial career had peaked with the success of alt-rock radio catering ‘Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea‘ (which was – are we allowed to say now? – a little bit pish), and since then they’d turned away decisively from the mainstream, with occasionally superb effects. ‘Hope 6…’ though seemed to suggest they were creatively puckered out, and lyrically especially they seemed to be so poetically bankrupt that they were simply saying what they see. There goes a woman. Wearing Clothes. Walking forward. Left foot. Followed by right. Then left again. It was pretty turgid.
That was freaking seven years ago though. Obama was president, Britain was in the EU, Drake had the number one single and the cocking live action Jungle Book was the number 1 movie! It was a different world! Since her last album, she’s completed the epic poem ‘Orlam’, which took her more than ten years to complete. In fact, seeing as I’m a Proper Music Journalist, I should probably buy that book so that I can better analyse its presence on this album…
Yeah, unfortunately I didn’t have the time nor resources to do that. But if anything I prefer knowing to little about what’s going on here. The sense of mystery and confusion is further cemented by Peej singing the lyrics in a long dead Dorset dialect. And you know that rural England has the creepiest languages. If the reverberating acoustics and wispy melodies aren’t spooky enough, wait until Peej hits you with a “March ‘ull sarch, Eäpril ‘ull try” or a “Life and death all innertwined/And teake to your dark-haired Lord” or (a personal fave) “Tell me, who has licked the twoad?” and see how the unnerving power of the music drags fingers across your very bones.
“Shit”, you’ll think to yourself, “Who has licked the twoad?? Was that me?? Did I lick the twoad?? They say that if no-one in your friend group id ‘the one who licked the twoad, then you’re the one who licked the twoad!!”
It’s incredibly uncomfortable at times, but so artfully done that it never has to resort to simply making unpleasant music. Superficially, everything on ‘Old Year…’ is absolutely gorgeous, but it manages to build a world and an environment that still sounds creepy as all hell! Shit! What was that noise! Is there something in the room here with me…? Is it… a twoad…???
It might be the sound of Peej being done with anything close to ‘conventional’ music making. It’s not quite her own ‘Ghosteen‘, but she’s headed in that direction. It’s at the very least a reminder that she is still a dynamic and extremely worthwhile artist. Not yet ready to be a “not-girl zweal-ed at the stake”.
Unless that’s a good thing… Listen, I have fucking idea, OK?
2016 #79, 2007 #19
Necessary Evil 
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