Peaches gets rapturous in New York City

December 11, 2010, at the Concert Hall

By Gabrielle Moss
Published: December 14th, 2010 | 7:00am

Mostly familiar for being the saucy electroclash rap-rocker with hot pants and a filthy mouth, the artist formerly known as Merrill Nisker is also a visual artist, video artist, and former folk singer. After “Peaches Christ Superstar,” her one-woman performance of Andrew Lloyd Weber and Tim Rice’s “Jesus Christ Superstar,” I feel confident adding “dynamite theatrical vocalist” to that list of achievements.

At first glance, it’s easy to assume “Peaches Christ Superstar” is some kind of parody. This is a woman famous for albums like Fatherfucker (XL) and Impeach My Bush. How could she be seriously interested in an earnest musical about the life of Jesus Christ? In the first minutes after Peaches strode onto the stage at the Concert Hall at the Society for Ethical Culture, there were nervous titters from audience members as they tried to figure out whether the production was a joke, and whether they were in on it.

Peaches isn’t in on the joke—she’s miles beyond the joke, and she turned a concept that could have been a pointless bit of camp into a genuinely moving piece of art. There are no winks or nods from performer to audience, no irony for those of us wary of the overtly religious. Throughout her career, Peaches has been a fearless, risk-taking performer, and in this production she was no different, diving all the way in to make this seemingly impossible performance—where she sang the part of every single character with energy, aplomb, and composure—succeed.

After 2009’s I Feel Cream, the secret was out: Peaches can actually sing. But as this show revealed, Peaches possesses a phenomenal voice—Broadway showstopper-style vocal chords capable of great nuance, power, and passion. She also has phenomenal stage presence, which was necessary to pull off the evening’s conceit. In lesser hands, it could have been an uncomfortable spectacle—something on par with watching a child singing into her hair brush in her bedroom mirror. But in the expert hands of Peaches and accompanist Chilly Gonzalez, it was an unexpected tour de force. The stripped-down production—no sets, almost no props, almost no dancing, only one costume change, dynamic yet minimalist lighting, sole musical accompaniment courtesy of frequent collaborator Gonzalez on a grand piano—liberated the songs from the overblown Wagnerian pomp of the musical’s traditional score. Peaches and Gonzalez’s simple arrangements not only showcased Peaches’ pipes, but the beauty of the songs.

Peaches exhibited incredible range as both a singer and an actor, jumping from a sweet and plaintive Mary Magdalene in “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” to a slick, sneering King Herod in “Herod’s Song” (a vaudeville number that incorporated a bit of crowd-pleasing moonwalking), to a breathtaking turn as Jesus in “Gethsemane,” the musical’s most famous song. Her supple, exuberant voice rose to meet each of the production’s emotional demands—it was somber in “Pilate’s Dream,” rowdy and sarcastic in “Herod’s Song,” vicious in “Trial Before Pilate.”

Never one to shy away from controversy, the play ended with Peaches as Jesus atop a gold lame box, arms outstretched, as casually attired dancers came out of the audience and, with enormous smiles, placed a golden crown of thorns on her head. And yet, it wasn’t crass or crude, the way it often is when rockers toy with crucifixion imagery. It was simple and moving. Who would have guessed that it would take a nice Jewish girl from Toronto-turned-porn rock provocateur to get a bunch of secular indie rockers cheering for Jesus?

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