I Feel Cream

This is easily the most danceable record she’s produced. Surprisingly, the weakest tracks are those that sound most like the electro-rap we’ve come to expect from her; fortunately, they’re in the minority this time out.

Ever the self-conscious transgressor, Peaches presents herself as both exceptional and mutable.

There are also plenty of moments that aren't groundbreaking, but still show that Merill Nisker has a lot to say about sex, music, and pop culture nearly a decade after Teaches of Peaches was released.

I Feel Cream is a force of positive motion that addresses criticism with the sonic equivalent of a bitch slap.

Whatever their inspiration, new cuts like the oddly pretty 'Lose You' and 'Billionaire,' the latter of which features a fiery cameo from Shunda K of Yo Majesty, throb with unexpected vitality.

Fabulous. [Jun 2009, p.98]

High art, low humour and deluxe filth: a hugely seductive combination. [Jun 2009, p.95]

At times the minimalist compositions expose her limited range, but no one should be listening to Peaches for the pitch-defying melismas.

Ultimately, even when she veers into previously unexplored aesthetic territory, every track feels just like Peaches, which is rather remarkable given how rigid and predictable she had been in the recent past.

Like most extreme acts, this trash-talking MC's strengths are best showcased in wham-bam singles. To sustain interest between fourth-album climaxes, the Berlin-based sleaze queen collaborates with London's Simian Mobile Disco.

Okay, maybe age has softened Peaches a tad, but if I Feel Cream is the result, it sounds more compelling and radical than any number of new iterations of "sucking on my titties."

I Feel Cream is pretty good but at the end of the day, it is a transitional album.

I Feel Cream is a fun and worthwhile album, though is unlikely to change any minds about Peaches. Fortunately, that also means she shows no signs of losing her touch.

The notoriously hardcore sexual aggressor has swapped strap-ons for sentiment and turned all flaccid in the process, and guess what: it’s quite...nice.

I Feel Cream is Peaches' most pop-leaning album to date, though it doesn't comprise. [Spring 2009, p.67]

I Feel Cream feels subdued and safe, a less-than-inspiring move for an artist who made her name by being neither.

Cream is a victim of the times, no more than a mere face in a pop culture marketplace crowded with sexual aggrandizing and salacious controversy. The kind of antics Peaches has built her career on--pushing and pulling at the accepted boundaries, tongue-in-cheek shock value--are now a common rite of passage for artists pushing their edgy shtick.

Ideology aside, this is a diverse album that retains her trademark dirty electro but on collaborations with Simian Mobile Disco still delights.

Ultimately, Peaches shows herself developing, late in her career, but unlikely to infiltrate the market she's targeted.

Though it hits only a few different notes, Peaches' bawdy pop feels like a refreshing breath of filthy air.