Bizarre and brilliantly bold: Fever Peach’s idiosyncratic EP about bees, modern life, and Doritos doesn’t fail to entertain.
My introduction to this Scottish band was simultaneously exactly and nothing like what I imagined it would be. Fever Peach’s ‘Blue’ features six post-punk comedy songs ranging from the absurdly contemplative to the fabulously nonsensical. Scott Redmond’s lyrics don’t disappoint once throughout, and the whole album can only be described as having a surreal quality that very few albums have captured before.
The opening track ‘Fire on a Submarine’ sets the stage for twenty minutes of intense yet comedic lyricism and catchy music. I was surprisingly gripped by the lyrics and the dark humour of WHY the submarine was in fact on fire — Fever Peach blur the line between nihilism and cheer, leaving me questioning at first if this was genius, or just simply batty. (Spoiler: the answer is both.)
I remained mystified by the second, arguably most absurd song in the album, ‘Beard of Bees’. What is it about? Exactly what it suggests. Accompanied by the harmonious humming of many bees, the lyrics portray a man experiencing the highs and lows of, yes, a beard of bees. Wonderfully ridiculous and unique, it is impossible to deny the playability of the song: it’s definitely wormed its way into my playlists. (Or perhaps ‘buzzed’ is more fitting.)
Just as I thought I was getting to grips with the sort of music they created, Fever Peach surprise once again with the candid, bleakly calming song ‘LoFi Chill Vibes’. The wry humour made itself a staple of this song, that itself is reminiscent of spoken word more than anything. Painting an almost-cosy picture of the depressing state of modern life, this third song in the album might be more serious, but Redmond’s lyrical brilliance coupled with Andrew Bullick’s genius music serves as a brief break from the madness of songs before and after.
‘Issues Cosmological’ opens with what seems like another contemplative serious song, only to switch charmingly midway through. The band pose questions about, as the song name suggests, issues cosmological, before flipping the script with a fabulous bit of dialogue between the band and a curious alien. Curious about what, you may ask? Doritos. Specifically the ranch flavour. Ridiculous, but capturing the band’s eccentricity fantastically, it may not have been a stand-out but it definitely places perfectly between the previous song and the next.
Another way the band must be applauded is their ability to touch on different types of absurdity in different songs. With the energy of a 1960s boyband, ‘Jasmine Has The Blues’ deals with a young woman dealing with modern life and depression. Despite the upbeat tune and charming boyband attitudes, Fever Peach depict a painfully realistic picture of the woman’s life, creating a striking contrast that sits somewhere between unsettling and uncomfortably appraising. The lyrics ‘rose tinted, heart-shaped glasses’ don’t just describe Jasmine’s life but the song itself, making it yet another from the EP to end up in my liked songs on Spotify.
If I had any doubt about the band’s creativity it was put to rest with the last (and lyrically my favourite) song ‘The Paris Jazzman’. Dark, haunting, and unnerving, Fever Peach demonstrate their ability to make skin crawl with their dive into horror. The repetitive instrumental serves as a fantastically creepy backdrop to the frantic search of a man to find the Parisian stranger, and, while I personally wish the song hadn’t ended with an anticlimax, overall the talent that the song displays is impossible to deny.
If you skimmed the review, let me summarise for you: Fever Peach’s new EP ‘Blue’ is not to be missed, hitting home in a number of ways. While comedic, I applaud their ability to range between topics of horror and depression and maintain their general tone throughout. Wonderfully weird in every way, it’s no question to me that it’s only a matter of time before Fever Peach bring their wackiness to radio stations and other platforms across the nation.
REVIEWER: Noah McGarrity