There is an implicit contract when entering a space constructed by Merrill Nisker. For decades now, the artist known as Peaches has treated the stage less as a conventional concert venue, and more as a living laboratory for human anatomy under pressure and fissure.
And last night (September 2) at Edmonton's Midway Music Hall, the latest stop on the No Lube So Rude tour, felt like a textured, highly deliberate study of endurance and grace. Backed by the sparse, mechanical landscapes of her seventh studio album, the evening unfolded with a singular aesthetic precision, a re-contextualizing treatise of what it means to grow older and remain entirely unyielding in a world full of cultural friction.
It is only Peaches who could take the beauty and indignities of physical ageing, pass them through the gauze of the vibrant opulence of A Midsummer's Night Dream as forced through the body horror industrial rave prism — and in the end, somehow come out with something so distinctly ecstatic. As she entered the stage dressed as a sculptural "penis mop," the beatific squelch of "prolapse" was audible through the art pop clamour.
The visual architecture of the performance owes its striking depth to the subversive craft and immaculate eye of designer Charlie Le Mindu. The garments, repurposed from opera houses and warped beyond all recognition, functioned as shifting extensions of the music's pulse.
With all the solemnity of a high priestess in the midst of a sacred rite, Peaches ushered in the show under a colossal mass of fabric, but as the room adjusted to the low-frequency rumble of "Hanging Titties," the exaggerated breast and penis anatomy gave way and Nisker began the slow, curated process of shedding layers.
By the time the bass line of "Whatcha Gonna Do About It" took hold, she had emerged in a towering, primeval faux-fur silhouette that completely skewed her physical proportions against the stage lights, moving with a lumbering, intentional weight that was mesmerizing to watch.
So it went for the night. Somewhere in that melee of decapitated doll heads, scuttling light fixtures, lurching skin-suit figures, pendulous pubic beards and pop sensibilities played out at punk velocities, you may have realized you're at one of the best shows of the year.
Of course, long-time fans of Nisker have always known that underneath the euphoric colour-coded overload lives something much more heart-rending, humanistic and beautiful.
After a relentless rotating cast of hyper-vivid outfits, Peaches took a poignant, much quieter moment to don an oversized jacket that belonged to her sister, who passed away in 2020 — a moving, insular conclusion to her ongoing parley with personal grief and collective decay.
