 "Photo: Terri Kleckner")
“Ho, ho, ho!” Peaches said to fans in her best deep Santa Claus voice. She sat in a red velvet chair surrounded by Christmas gifts, glitter-tinsel, and a full Evergreen tree at Park Ave CDs Saturday.
Her blond hair curled out from underneath her Santa hat, the word “Naughty” blinking in red lights. In between Santa-lap sessions, Peaches ate chocolate-chip cookies, pulling back her fake beard to make sure the crumbs didn’t get stuck.
Dozens of fans formed a line, folding in and out of the music shelves like a snake.
Kayla Adams, a junior sculpture and linguistics major from UF, also dressed in a Santa hat.
“I’m Jewish, so I don’t get to sit on Santa’s lap often,” she said.
Soon, the snake-line of fans dispersed, heading off to Club Firestone to get some “teaches” from the ground-stomping, earth-shattering, fearless and fierce Peaches herself.
The opening band, MEN, began the night with steady synth beats and soft, yet strong, voices. The band sang under deep colored lights, their electro-dance energy pouring onto the audience.
Lights then faded and curtains closed. The curtains opened once again, revealing three veiled figures standing center stage, with a ball of balloon-like spikes in the center. Bass beats shook the ground.
Covered in a jacket of balloon-like spikes, Peaches rose, her body a tornado in a vicious whirlwind.
In her knee-high, lace-up boots, Peaches stomped on the loudspeaker, violet leotard stretching across her body, and space-age shoulder pads puffing like marshmallows. She leaped onto the loudspeaker, put one foot in the crowd, singing “Talk to Me.”
Rainbow lights sprinkled the crowd, grouped together in clusters. Fans were wearing everything from metallic sneakers and suits to T-shirts and jeans.
Evie Bat, a sophomore anthropology major from UF, has been a fan of Peaches for four years. Bat wore a black leotard and electric-blue pumps.
“I love [Peaches’] complete disregard to others’ opinions,” she said.
Throughout the show, Peaches was everything from a laser-shooting warrior, a panther woman in a black leotard, to a post-shower woman in a terrycloth towel.
When she ripped off her towel during “Lose You,” tiny images of her face were projected on each side of the material.
As Peaches sang live, her projections mouthed the words with her.
And of course, Peaches closed the show with the legendary “[Expletive] the Pain Away.” Like many fans, this was the first Peaches song I had ever heard.
And with such a hot, turbulent closing song comes an encore. Two encores, in fact. Blood-spitting encores, with champagne showering the audience.
I made my way from the safe, midcrowd observing territory to the front of the stage. Girls I’d never spoken to danced with me, and I could almost touch Peaches’ knee-high boots, and her pink-and-black XXX cape.
And as fans from all over threw up their bras and shirts, one could stand below, taking it all in.
The layers and layers of fan clothing Peaches put on, the layers and layers she took off, her tigress voice, which of course ended with a hush — lights off, cool air rushing in.
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