Peaches
The Blue Room; Nashville, TN
Sept. 16, 2026
Review by Philip Obenschain. Photos by Tess Schoonhoven.
It’s been more than 25 years since Peaches erupted onto the scene with her edgy, sex-positive, postfeminist electroclash classic debut, The Teaches of Peaces, and in the many years and numerous tours since, it’s pretty astounding that, until now, she had never performed in Nashville. That recently, finally changed, when the provocative, queer icon brought her No Lube So Rude Tour (in support of her new album of the same name- the singer’s first in over a decade) to The Blue Room for a wild, theatrical show in a much more intimate space than she typically plays. When this tour was initially announced, the Nashville date was at Cannery Hall, with a subsequent show at The Caverns in nearby Pelham. For reasons unclear, that Cannery show was canceled a few weeks ago, and The Blue Room was added fairly last minute- which made for a thrilling, up-close and personal, and visceral way for fans to experience one of the most unique, provocative live performances in the world. As a longtime Peaches fan, I jumped at the chance to be there, and was elated to find that, decades later, Peaches was still every bit the larger-than-life, unabashedly horny, punk-spirited performance artist I loved as a teen, and her show as energetic and essential as ever.
The Blue Room was buzzing when I arrived, and the crowd was eclectic, a wide range of ages and identities, queer folks and allies; some clearly Peaches fans from the start, and some who, inevitably, had come to her later (and/or weren’t even born yet when she hit the scene). No opener was listed, so I made a point to be punctual, and a lively playlist spun as the tiny room (one of my favorite show spaces in all of Nashville) filled up. About 30 minutes after the posted start, the lights dimmed and Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” began to play, met with especially enthusiastic cheers from Dolly’s adopted hometown crowd (I noticed on social media that Peaches also visited Dollywood during her time in Tennessee), as the singer, covered head to toe in a suit of sagging breasts, took the stage, opening with No Lube So Rude track “Hanging Titties.” Costumes and props would recur throughout the night- though not so elaborate for every single song- conjuring a sort of Flaming Lips-esque visual aesthetic, if paired with the wild stage presence of Iggy Pop, or the bombastic, riot grrrl punk feminism of Bikini Kill.
A really unique feature of Peaches’ production design is that the stage itself is essentially modular and malleable, and both during and between songs, her crew (and occasionally her dancers) were constantly changing and reconfiguring stage pieces, risers, lights, and props. Though she no longer performs with a conventional band- opting instead to use tracks- the dancers also served to really enhance the theatricality of the show, frequently changing outfits to match hers, rocking bondage masks, creature costumes, and gender-fluid attire. After rocking that intitial “Hanging Titties” outfit, and cycling through a silvery jacket and top with a message in support of trans rights (she took a moment to vocally reinforce the message of protecting trans youth, women’s rights, a free Palestine, and other important, topical issues) throughout the next few songs, she had stripped down to essentially topless, with flesh-colored bottoms decorated with a long strip of hair, and hairy nipple pasties by “Light in Places,” an outfit (or lack thereof) which she’d return to frequently throughout the show as what felt like her “default” live look. Did I mention she’ll be 60 this fall? Punk. As. Fuck.
The aforementioned “Light in Places” made for one of the show’s coolest uses of simple, minimalist production, as the singer performed alone, unmoving on a riser, as her crew manually moved lights around her to brilliant effect. And just a couple of songs later, for “Operate,” she indulged in her most maximalist, camp tendencies, leaving the stage for a faux neck injury, only for a prop severed head to be thrown out from backstage, as a headless someone in a similar green, sparkly jacket to the one she’d worn for the prior song emerged, with a giant vulva in place of a head stump, as Peaches herself returned with her guts spilling out, as an inflatable monster (seemingly abridged from the normal one they use, on a bigger stage) rose behind them. Where else would you see that besides a Peaches show? (Okay, maybe at a GWAR show). Encased in a sort of red bubble of innards, the singer next walked right on top of the crowd, asking the audience to support her feet, while singing “I Mean Something,” ultimately landing in the back of the room at a very small b-stage (maybe the shortest distance between a b-stage and a main stage I’ve ever seen) for a couple of songs.
Once again utilizing simple production techniques in such clever and unique ways, Peaches performed “Grip” from the crowd, while making her way back to the stage, lit solely by headlamps worn by her dancers (this felt like something you’d see at a Chari XCX show), as she weaved through the room, embraced fans, and rolled around on the carpet. I’d taken a peek at a typical setlist before this show, and realized early on we were getting a somewhat abridged setlist (understandable, for a show announced late and in a smaller space than the tour is designed for), so I knew when she had returned to the main stage we were nearing the end, and some of her biggest hits were incoming. I’m pretty sure 2006’s Impeach My Bush was the first Peaches album I got into, and I’ll always have a soft spot for that more guitar-driven turn she took during the indie sleaze heyday of the mid-aughts. So, of course, I was thrilled to hear her classic single “Boys Wanna Be Her,” delivered with all of the propulsive, rock and roll aplomb it deserved, and prompting loud singalongs. While the setlist skewed heavily on new stuff- as it should, since it’s her first record in so long, and a great one at that- I found the classic cuts to be a nice mix, and the whole set to be really lean and well-structured.
As the show drew close to its end, Peaches, of course, made the room lose its mind with breakout, signature single “Fuck the Pain Away,” an enduring, endlessly catchy turn-of-the-millennium classic that sounds just as great now as it did in 2000, during which she sprayed us with champagne (proclaiming that “that’s what’s good about a small audience, you can spray everybody”). The main set ended with new LP title track “No Lube So Rude,” but the encore proved to be an unexpected, surprisingly understated coda, as Peaches returned to stage alone, back on a riser, to sing a surprisingly straightforward and beautiful rendition of Barbra Streisand’s “People”- the best example of her raw vocal prowess all night. Expressing her sincere gratitude to everyone for their enduring support- I was struck by how serious and soft-spoken the singer seemed when earnestly addressing the crowd, in contrast to the bombast of how she performs- and thanking us for welcoming her to Nashville for the first time (that fact still blows my mind), she concluded the show on a low-key note I didn’t expect, but really loved.
I may have a tendency to throw around labels like legend, icon, or trailblazer too often, but in the case of Peaches, they certainly all apply. Through her music itself, through her unabashed sexuality and sex-positivity, through her queerness and feminism, through her sociopolitical messaging, through her wild and avant-garde live show (as well as her multimedia endeavours in film, visual art, performance art, and more), she truly is one of the most wholly individual and important artists of the 21st century, and getting to see her live at this point in her career and in a venue as special as The Blue Room (I noticed the “recording” light on by the way- I hope this show sees a vinyl release), is an experience I’ll long cherish.
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All photos by Tess Schoonhoven
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Setlist:
Hanging Titties
Fuck Your Face
Slippery Dick
Panna Cotta Delight
Flip This
Light in Places
AA XXX
Operate
I Mean Something
Fuck How You Wanna Fuck
Not in Your Mouth None of Your Business
Grip
You’re Alright
Boys Wanna Be Her
Take It
Fuck the Pain Away
No Lube So Rude
People (Barbra Streisand Cover)
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