THE HIDDEN CAMERAS with the MOLDY PEACHES at the Horseshoe, January 10. Tickets: $7. Attendance: 400. Rating: NNNN Rating: NNNN
judging by the packed house atthe Horseshoe last Thursday night, the hot ticket in town is gay church folk music.And with good reason. Few shows explode with as much over-the-top fun as a Hidden Cameras gig. The Hidden Cameras are like a roomful of puppies -- you watch them play and can't stop grinning.
This time around, their usual 10-plus-piece orchestra was bolstered by trumpet and trombone. With the help of the cute balaclava-ed go-go boys, two band members led the crowd in an aerobic workout.
The prospect of building on the Cameras' blissed-out vibe seemed a superhuman feat, but goofball punks the Moldy Peaches were up to the challenge. The six-piece band marched onstage in freakish costumes and busted out a choreographed dance routine à la Village People. Except instead of homoerotic fantasy cowboys and construction workers chanting about the YMCA, we had Spiderman, a sadistic clown, a pint-sized Elvis in a duct-tape jumpsuit and a drag-clad guitar god telling the crowd how to be a "rocker maniac."
Moldy Peaches songs meander all over the musical map, from hiphop to metal, from power pop to acoustic folk, and their lyrics express the delusional ravings of scatologically obsessed, sex-crazed stoners. But who can resist a band that rhymes "peenie" with "vageenie"?
The set was a sugary-cereal-and-Jolt-cola-powered bonanza of popcult references, silly dances and tripped-out sex dreams. And the primary Peaches -- yowlers Kimya Dawson and Adam Green -- pulled no punches playing off their boy-girl dynamic.
Granted, Dawson's half-yelped, half-purred vocals are an acquired taste, and her decision to sing half the set facing away from the audience was annoying. And what was up with Green's random disappearances offstage? Tiny bladder and too much beer?
The dance floor was packed with bodies swaying along with Jorge Regula's Low Rider riff on quaaludes and belting out the band's ecstatic pseudo-commercial jingle-cum-pop-anthem, Who's Got The Crack?
Puerile? Maybe. Pure fun? Positively.