A brash, unapologetic blend of electronic, dance, punk, industrial, and pop music, No Lube So Rude exists at the intersection of the personal and the political, where the body serves not only as a sexual and spiritual vessel, but also as the front line in a battle for basic human rights. Peaches’ lyrics are bawdy and explicit here, laced with biting sarcasm and clever wordplay, but they’re also surprisingly vulnerable, offering up a candid look in the mirror from a post-menopausal queer icon reckoning with a society that’s come to expect silence, if not outright erasure. The result is a deliberately provocative exploration of identity, sexuality, and bodily autonomy from a trailblazer, a singular work of emotional and sonic alchemy that balances the poetic and the profane in equal measure as it transforms all the friction and frustration of modern life into joy and transcendence.
| A1 | Hanging Titties |
| A2 | Fuck Your Face |
| A3 | No Lube So Rude |
| A4 | Whatcha Gonna Do About It |
| A5 | Panna Cotta Delight |
| A6 | Fuck How You Wanna Fuck |
| B7 | Not In Your Mouth None Of Your Business |
| B8 | Take It |
| B9 | Grip |
| B10 | You're Alright |
| B11 | Be Love |
