Ain’t That a Peach?
There are several important rites of passage that go along with being in a jug band, one of which is being given a nickname. One of the stipulations of this ancient nickname giving ceremony is that the recipient must not actually like the nickname given to him/her. Natasha and I got a little worried about what our jug names would become, particularly when we heard that two of the current members had been named Sergeant FatAss and T.J. Rat-Nose.
We quickly devised a scheme to give each other nicknames and pretend that we hated them, to avoid being stuck with a name like Grey-Roots Amadeo or Old Jenny Four Eyes. Last weekend, while Nat and I were scouring the antique shops for washboards and jugs, I kept complaining about how bruised up my leg was getting from all the spooning. She just laughed, told me to take some vitamins, and said, “Aww. Little baby Jenny. She’s just delicate like a piece of fruit.”
I laughed and said, “Yeah, I’m just like a little peach.”
And then it hit me: Peaches! My nickname would be Peaches!
Nat cocked her head to the side and said, “Jenny. There is no way that this class is going to believe that you hate the nickname Peaches. Please.”
“No, but what if we explain why I’m called Peaches. You know, because I bruise so easily. That’s kind of gross, right? And I can pretend like I’m really mad when you suggest it. Let’s role play – pretend we’re in class and you suggest the nickname.”
“Oh brother. All right. Hey, I came up with a nickname for Jenny! Let’s call her Peaches!”
“Natasha! I said, no! Do NOT call me Peaches!”
“Ha ha! We’re gonna call you Peaches because you’re all black and blue from playing the spoons!”
“Noooo! I hate that name! Pick something else!”
Natasha stopped me at that point, and said, “Okay, if I’m going to make them believe that you hate the name Peaches, then you have to convince them that I don’t want to be called T-Bone.”
“Oooh – T-Bone’s a badass nickname! Peaches and T-Bone, together at last! We’ll be running the show in no time.
As much as I wanted the nickname Peaches, I did agree that we had a tough road ahead of us in trying to convince the group to let me keep it. I figured that the only way I could win them over would be to write a song about the name. How could they deny me then? So Nat and I sat down over lunch and penned what I believe will become one of the greatest bluesy jug band songs of our era.
Bruised Peach Baby Blues
© 2005 Natasha and Jenny
I calls my baby Peaches, but she don’t hang on a tree.
Oh I calls my baby Peaches, but she don’t hang on no tree.
She’s like sweet Georgia peaches, ‘cause she bruise so easily.
My baby plays da spoons, and she gets all black and blue.
Yeah, my baby plays da spoons, and gets all black and blue.
Took my baby to the doctor, but ain’t nothing he can do.
She’s got bruises on her thighs, and bruises on her knee.
Oh she’s got bruises on her thighs, lord and bruises on her knee.
But I still loves my Peaches, ‘cause she means that much to me.
She don’t wanna play no washtub, nose flute or kazoo.
No, Peaches won’t play no washtub, nose flute or kazoo.
She just keeps on playin’ spoons till she turns all black and blue.
I calls my baby Peaches, but she don’t hang on a tree.
Oh, I calls my baby Peaches, but she don’t hang on no tree.
Well I calls my baby Peaches, ‘cause she needs some Vitamin C.
While I’m gone, if anyone cares to contribute an additional verse or an alternate nickname, please feel free to unleash your inner jugbandster. Please note, however, that all proceeds from the Bruised Peach Baby Blues will go to the Run Jen Run Scotch and Soda Fund.
Filed under: Jug Band on May 14th, 2005
May 14th, 2005 at 9:44 pm
I have a guy friend who randomly calls me peaches, he’ll go, “Hey Peaches, what’s happening?” and for some reason it makes me giggle. I think I just like having any nickname. Even ‘Red,’ which people called me in high school, depite there being no reason to do so, I don’t even have red hair!
May 15th, 2005 at 11:19 pm
Ooh ooh, I always wanted a dorky-cool nickname like Bootsy or Shug! Thanks for the link, um, Peaches.
May 17th, 2005 at 4:23 pm
I was at a hotel while working my last job, and the bar manager called me peaches. Somehow, that made it back to the company, and soon even the bosses were calling me that. Of course, it was harder on me being a guy. Maybe they should just call you Spoons.
May 17th, 2005 at 4:48 pm
My roommate hates the nicknames I have for her. I’ll walk in the door and say, “What’s shakin’ bacon?”
I have never in my life known a woman that would consider being called BACON flattering. Peaches is WAY better.
May 18th, 2005 at 5:15 pm
Given the condition of your leg, maybe you should consider being called “Bruise Hound.”
May 19th, 2005 at 9:20 am
Oh man, that was the best jug band song I’ve ever read! I have no idea what the back story is on the jug band, but you better believe I’m going to find out.
Also, I said something vaguely metrosexual at a temp job I was working (about hair gel, or something), and they all started calling me Peaches. This means that there are at least two guys reading this who have shared your nickname at some point. Sweet.
And here’s a verse, to add:
My baby Peaches, she ain’t in no pie or cobbler
My baby Peaches, she ain’t in no pie or cobbler
But she bruise so easily, she one hell of a hobbler.
I’ll give that it’s a pretty shitty rhyme structure, but how else can you cram an awkwardly-syllabled word like “cobbler” in there?
May 19th, 2005 at 10:11 am
S: I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that so many people beat me to the punch and were already nicknamed Peaches. As for the history of jug bands, I have conveniently created a category called “Jug Band” so please don’t feel you’ve missed out.
Also – I love the cobbler reference! Another alternative might be:
Oh, my baby Peaches, she ain’t in no cobbler or pie.
No my little baby Peaches, ain’t in no cobbler or pie.
With bruised up legs like hers, lord I sure know why.
May 19th, 2005 at 10:20 am
That works, too, but I wanted to challenge myself and stay away from the traditional one syllable rhyme.
No offense to YOUR one syllable rhyme, however.
May 19th, 2005 at 10:43 am
Aha! The glove has been thrown! I sense a challenge. I shall compose a verse so complex that you will need 3 weeks of phoenetics classes to even be able to read it silently in your head. And it will be played on the ocarina. I will now barricade myself in my studio until June. Adieu.
May 19th, 2005 at 11:34 am
Only three weeks? Yeah, THAT’S dedication…come back when I need years of study to understand your verses.
May 20th, 2005 at 10:20 am
It’s a slow day at the office…
“Take a look at Peaches, with spots all brown and black.
I said, take good look at Peaches, with spots all brown and black.
Her capillaries burst, when she gives them spoons a smack.”
Second verse same as the first, a little bit louder and a little bit worse!