Peaches + Amanda Blank- Showbox Market (Seattle, WA; Nov. 24, 2009)

Two DJs and a drummer hyped the crowd for a good ten minutes before Amanda Blank surfaced from the midst of a trance overture. She removed a black hooded cloak with gold lamé trim as her vocals transitioned from dulcet song to mesomorphic rap. I didn’t have my glasses, but what she was now wearing appeared to be a tie-dyed teddy. Blank’s candid dance moves consisted of mostly shuddering thighs. A well-meaning statement (“This is my first time in Seattle and my dad is from here. He’s so cool.”) induced an uncomfortable vision of a dad—anyone’s—ogling Blank from the audience.

Blank’s rapping style is commanding, like accelerated Salt n Pepa, and her singing voice is credible. Obviously she’s got stage presence. But musically, originality was severely lacking. An initially compelling cover of Romeo Void’s “Might Like you Better” quickly degraded into cheap radio-worthy drivel. Her version of L.L. Cool J’s “I Need Love” took all the sentimentality from the original. Blank’s first album, released earlier this year, was produced by Spank Rock, Diplo, and Dave Sitek. Unfortunately, this promising trio didn’t turn out more innovative tracks. I would say, however, that the overall goal of the evening was accomplished: while the songs were not memorable, the performance certainly was.

To the theme from Blade Runner, the largest wig in existence, which turned out to be Peaches, lurched onto the stage. This wig was like the brunette version of the big, hairy Looney Tunes monster, with the addition of some sparkling lights for flair. Two enormously wigged blonde dancers in black bikinis framed the stage, faces obscured by masses of hair. “Why don’t you talk to me?” Peaches queried as she peeked out from said wig. With this repeated question, the dancer’s facelessness turned oddly symbolic.

Peaches’ wig was discarded to reveal a super–villain style hot-pink leotard. To prove she’s not afraid of human hands, Peaches stood, wide-legged and emphatic, within grasping range on the edge of the stage. During “Take You On” she managed to crowd surf while keeping up with the song’s repeating mantra. Then she took it to the next level (“Put your cameras away! You want the real, live experience. Put your hands up!”) as she proceeded to walk across an unstable surface of supportive hands.

Since I bought The Teaches of Peaches back in 2003, I haven’t kept up on Peaches. The music is still electro clash. The image is now largely 80s throwback. Today’s search on Wikipedia found she’s collaborated with Pink and Nine Inch Nails in recent years. Unsurprising, considering both acts are what I’d call main-stream edgy. There’s more to Peaches than that vague brand off edginess, however.

To Teaches, there is an acute sense of bleakness common to the affect Industrial music generates. When I listen to, and enjoy, Teaches, it’s with a bit of guilt, similar to the fascination one might glean from observing psych patients. Since Teaches, a great deal of this bleakness has dissipated and in its place a more convoluted, but overall more meaningful, theme behind her image has emerged. Peaches’ old trademark of sexually exposed emptiness was compelling, but the direction she’s taken since then, into more analytical and satirical territory, has greater depth.

With long fringe swinging from outstretched arms, Peaches resembled the cult icon Hedwig in more than just appearance. Peaches’ overt sexuality is not of the type we are resigned to accept from mainstream music. Her band, The Herms (short for hermaphrodites), didn’t necessarily add to the performance, but they did add to the sense of community in the room. The audience was comprised of mainly women and gay men. The ambiguity of gender roles on stage created a more complex, more interesting dynamic between Peaches and her audience than, say, Amanda Blank would have been capable of.

The beats compelled. The costumes continued to change, each one as epic as the last. The Showbox’s spring-loaded floor bounced under enthusiastic people. Just before the first encore, an average-looking (i.e. not flamboyant) girl turned to me and professed, “I needed that. I REALLY needed that.” She then asked me for a ponytail holder, which I provided, and physically moved me in front of her so I could get a better view. She was not the only woman to randomly reach out to me. Another excitable one stopped me as I was walking and placed her hand on top of my head, just wanting to say “Hi.” Apparently we all needed a little bit of that.

The set closed with a barrage of cymbals leading into “Fuck the Pain Away.” The first encore was straight up hard rock. Appropriately, Peaches picked up a Flying V for an adaptation of AC/DC’s “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.” The second encore included “Set It Off” and an inflatable motorcycle prop. “I’ll be really fucking mad at you if you don’t do what I say. So are you gonna do what I say?” Peaches shrieked, then chanted, “Shirts come off, Shirts, shirts come off...” Shirts twirled overhead, whip-like. There was one final costume change: Peaches layered on four audience member’s T-shirts and disappeared off stage.

DOWNLOAD: Peaches - Fuck The Pain Away (MP3) or Follow us for more Peaches MP3s (Twitter)

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