RHUM

Home Nightclub smelt like a retired French whore. It was dark and empty as a bat cave in there. I thought I was in for a terrible time until the crowd rolled in dressed up like a carnival of electric illusions. They were ready to see Peaches but we all had to wait.

After seven eternities of terrible piped in dance music Quan took to the stage. He sheepishly announced, ‘Hi I’m Quan, welcome to me.’ He was a let down after the force and energy of Shunda K, a human embodiment of the national cultural cringe. He had a guitar, a synth and a pinned up white sheet for projected visuals but he crashed and burned, hard. Quan turned up his sheepish charm until we all fell a little bit in love with him and decided to forgive him for being awful.
 
By 11pm it was so packed I had to time my breathing with that of the man standing next to me in the crowd, or die of suffocation. After forty minutes of breathing and waiting Sweet Machine, Peaches backing band, finally appeared. They were wearing something akin to Star Wars S&M outfits, all black and space-age with adapted gimp masks fitted with a central horse tail where you might ordinarily expect their eyes to be. Peaches, crouched like a nightmare, stood on the bass drum wearing a pink leather battle leotard obscured by what I am calling a Spanish carpet yeti mantle.
 
Peaches was phenomenal from the moment I first spotted her to the moment she switched off her mic and bent over to drip it gently on the stage. Not once did she project anything less than electric energy. She is a consummate performer, with added swearing. If I was an army Peaches would be my marching band. I’d take you on, I’d take you all on and I’d win.
 
We all know what Peaches sounds like, punk electroclash. We all know that she dresses up like she’s at a Peaches convention and likes to say ‘vagina’ but did you know that she’s possesses a secret skill?
 
The skill of Peaches is transcending personal musical taste so that what you thought you liked no longer matters. In the face of a Peaches show there’s only room in your head for her, only her and whatever she is doing right in front of you, which could be almost anything. There were costume changes, oversized props, naked audience members and shouting. Peaches rode a roadie from the stage to the sound desk and back again. She played a lightsaber theremin, hit the crowd over the head with a ten metre stuffed penis and instructed us all to take our shirts off. She walked on our upturned hands like a battle Jesus, and we loved it. Venice ought to take note, this is the new masquerade ball.

*editors note: Along with the Big Day OUT 2010, Peaches has two dates left of her national tour; WED 27 JAN - Melbourne THE HIFI & MON 1 FEB - Perth ASTOR THEATRE. Though at this late stage you'll be very lucky to get tickets - we recommend you try! Peaches at Home Nightclub SYDNEY 24 January 2010

Photo by AVKIRAZ. To see more go HERE!