Peaches @ Max Watt’s, Melbourne 01.05.15

Peaches @ Max Watt’s, Melbourne 01.05.15
Decrease Font Size Increase Font Size Text Size Print This Page

By Alexandra Duguid

My feminist awakening was a slow burn. It probably started around the age of 15. Small things would happen to spur this along, usually musical discoveries. One of these discoveries was Ms. Merrill Nisker, more commonly referred to as Peaches.

I discovered her when I was 16, with the release of her fourth album Impeach My Bush. She was like no one I had ever come across previously and her confronting nature, unabashed sexuality and comfort in showing off her body created a new role model for a very self-conscious me to aspire to. Almost 10 years later, nothing has changed.

Peaches armed a pair of Pioneer turntables with a ferocious set of her electronic pop songs, mostly about genitalia, and let loose on her adoring audience. She was frequently joined by two “slutty dancers” (her words, not mine!) who gyrated around her in various states of latex, pasties or plush vagina costumes, feigning cunnilingus and other various acts on one another while Peaches climbed inside a giant phallic balloon, inflated across the heads of her audience.

Peaches did not stop the whole time; going from ‘Boys Wanna Be Her’ in a gold catsuit, to ‘Fuck The Pain Away’ in sequined underwear and pasties; she aurally and visually created a disco of positive energy.

It’s not all tits and ass talk though. Peaches is unforgivably herself. She is ruthless in her songwriting and revels in dismantling social norms with her music, but performed with a real care for her audience, the energy of her set never waning until she took a moment to sell her t-shirts from straight off the stage. A genius marketing move while also giving her audience the personable touch they want.

It’s near impossible to feel out-of-place at a Peaches’ show. The packed-out Hifi Bar just radiated with the feel-good party vibe Peaches put out there, and it would have to be one of the only times you could find a room full of people wearing t-shirts emblazoned with ‘Who’s Jizz Is This?’ and have no one blink an eyelid.

peaches 2

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.