Peaches

There are plenty of horny chicks who fantasize about getting onstage and grabbing an audience by the balls. But you'll find only one who styles her hair in an '80s porn star mullet, dresses in skimpy pink hot pants, and slings raps about "a big, gigantic cock show" over hard, dirty beats. That's Peaches.

Details

Saturday, May 12, at 10 p.m.

Blectum From Blechdom opens

Tickets are $8

621-4455

Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St. (at Texas), S.F.

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More About

• South by Southwest Festival
• Merrill Nisker
• Chilly Gonzales
• Hip-Hop and Rap

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At South by Southwest this spring, the Canadian-born performer took the stage with her Roland Groovebox MC505 and electric guitar, commanding the packed house to "shake your dicks and shake your tits" like an art school dominatrix cracking a cat-o'-nine-tails. Her aural come-ons left hard rock publicists slack-jawed and caused one girl to rip open her own shirt at the end of the set. In an era with enough migraine-inducing, khaki-sporting indie bands to bore good-time rock 'n' rollers stiff, Peaches gives the word a whole new meaning.

But Peaches' music is about more than sex. The 34-year-old, silver-tongued word-slinger is part of Germany's "Canadian jackass" tribe, a group of transplants that includes Chilly Gonzales, the self-proclaimed "one-eyed Jew" whose raps are as silly as Peaches' raps are kinky. The collective thrives on throwing hip hop and rock against the wall, then putting the broken records back together in a combustible manner.

Peaches moved to Germany 2 1/2 years ago as Merrill Nisker, a Toronto punk who spent hours in her room smoking weed, masturbating, and making beats. Now she's Peaches -- the only rapper who brags about her "hole in the middle" and the three records under her pink belt.

Her latest release, The Teaches of Peaches, is wringing music critics' panties into a bunch with its concrete floor-busting bass, old-school fuzzy synth, and fierce rock riffs. The music on songs like "Cum Undun" and "Fuck the Pain Away" is as aggressive as the lyrics, with both styled to drive her audience wild. On "Hot Rod" she demands, "Show me what you've got/ Rub it against my thigh," before tempting further with "You like it when I like you less/ No caress/ Just undress." Forget the cock-teasing, virgin-as-a-whore pop of Britney et al. Peaches is the poster girl for proud pervs who are more comfortable in the dance floor gutter than chained to a chastity belt.