I have to take my hat (well, pants would be more apt, but nobody wants to see that) to Peaches. She may have toned down her sexploitation exposition over the years but there’s still plenty of burlesque theatrics and “500% energy, blood, guts, and costume changes...aka pure Rock-N-Roll” for you to get your knickers all flush over Miss Nisker during her gig at Zirca on 28th April. Hush now baby don’t you stress, Peaches will fill your mommy complex.

Opening up to seductively ominous synth beats, Peaches emerges behind a curtain of neon, garbed in what I can only describe as a costume sheared and made from the unholy love child of a Sasquatch and Oscar the Grouch. Looking very much like a confetti Swamp Thing, Peaches appropriately launches into a down and dirty rendition “Mud.”

Not everything’s all scary though, Peaches has a soft side too and she proceeds to enlighten the frenzied masses about the importance of communication in “Talk to Me.” Well, the two ditzy mop-headed dancers were a little scary actually. In elaborate Broadway fashion, Peaches attempts to grab the attention of the blinded blondes to no avail (Why don't you talk to me?). “Stop, you've got nowhere to go. No blame, no shame, this ain't a Peaches show.” Well if it wasn’t it sure is now.

The gender bender connoisseur spends the entirety of the show in gradual states of undress and conversely, you get to see more of what Peaches is all about by degrees (this includes a blinking crotch). I’m fairly sure there wasn’t anyone in the house who wasn’t tickled by her awesome form-fitting shirt that displayed a middle finger reaching suggestively down her groin. That type of coquettishly cocksure audaciousness is what Peaches and her fans revel in after all.

All that in your face, venereal vivaciousness is to be expected but what I didn’t count on was Peaches coming out looking fairly demure, wrapped in a bathrobe and head towel to earnestly belt out “Lose You.” It wasn’t long before it was back to billowy pink chiffon tops, body surfing and blood spitting though. As per Peaches tradition, the bawdy funambulist instructs the eager crowd to hold out their hands for her famed crowd walking feat. “Jesus walks on water. Peaches walks on you!” Damn straight. But Chuck Norris still can swim on land so he may have one upped you there Miss Nisker.

Yo Majesty’s Shunda K even popped by, albeit a projected version of her beamed against a white cloth, to do an electroclash rap duet with Peaches during “Billionaire.” Amidst the epically gaudy spectacle, this may have been the coolest moment in humble opinion, but then again I may just have a thing for holograms. The part where the queen of nasty jumped into the crowd (I’ve lost count how many times she’s done this by now) to run to one of the Zirca cages to perform a pole-dancing, fist-pumping presentation of “Two Guys (For Every Girl)” may rank as a close second.

Disappointingly a little disturbance broke out in the crowd in the middle of the show leading a miffed Peaches to stop mid-verse and ask, “What the f*** is going on here!?” Most bands during most gigs wouldn’t give a crap if a fight broke out in the crowd, let alone have the courtesy to stop a song to check that their fans are okay. Kudos. Bouncers swiftly swooped in and things settled down quickly enough for the audience’s attention to turn back to the music, where it rightfully should be.

After ninety minutes and a full-set that included not one, but two brilliant encores (and after briefly losing my marbles during “F*** The Pain Away”), I stood there breathless, dripping in sweat and barely able to feel my legs, just in awe of the teaches of Peaches. Lest you think a Peaches show is all about the provocative props, hedonistic stage presence and titillating production values, the vocals were more than stellar. Peaches the singer is pitch perfect and just as formidable as Peaches the performer in case you ever had any doubts. All I can say is thank you Merrill Beth Nisker (and Home Club and John Robinson while we're at it.)

Part David Bowie, part Cherie Currie, all unchastely unforgettable, Peaches always delivers viscerally intense performance art. This was my first Peaches show and my Peaches hymen couldn’t have been torn any more salaciously. More please?