You could tell from the extravagant outfits all around, from the amount of flesh exposed, or from the panic on the bartenders’ faces. The sprawling crowd that incubated in such a feverish atmosphere was going to be mental, possibly like few before…

By the time I landed at Mao, The Fever Machine were banging the last sweaty notes out of their instruments. Les formidables, Reptile and Retard, hit the scene shortly after, summoning the public to the dance floor in no time. Those who had seen these Danish spacemen before greeted them back with unconditional enthusiasm, whereas newbies like me were pleasantly surprised by their fresh energy and playful quirkiness.

In its lack of pretentiousness, R&R’s sharp-edged electro was unavoidably engaging; they rode the stage with decorous confidence concealed behind hand-made masks, producing exactly the breed of clever dementia the audience needed to keep the frenzy growing toward climax. Raise your hand if you weren’t already dehydrated by the time R&R closed the opening act. I thought so.

Next came HER: The gigantic peach that had kept our mouths watering. More than anything else, curiosity was my driving emotion, I must admit.

Peaches made her first appearance completely covered by a Yeti-like costume made of dark shredded drapes, and she stomped the stage with monster moves while singing the opening track, “Mud”.

She removed the head of the mask for the following song, showing her intriguing glam-punk makeup, and began singing “Talk To Me” without swaying from the uneasy vocal trail by one single note. Two dancers with oversized bleach-blond wigs completed the unsettling picture.

As always, I compulsively tried to elbow my way to the front of the stage in order to capture some nice shots with my beer-drenched camera, but most of the time I just got elbowed back, or hindered by an invisible web of stray hormones. I can’t complain, however, about the position I finally got hold of. At this point the public was a homogeneous amalgam of sweat and fibers, hot and ready for the next step. Partly stripped already, our heroine began walking on a sea of swarming hands while ironically singing “Take You On” like a deranged messiah. She did take us on, in a way.

Back on the stage, unharmed and mightier than before, Peaches proceeded with yet another track from “I Feel Cream”: for “Billionaire” she materialized a virtual duet with a video projection of Shunda K on a hanging drape. Ta da! She used a similar trick later on, during “I Don’t Wanna Lose You”, when she unfolded the towel she was wrapped in, and on each side the projection of a small, soapy Peaches face appeared, providing countermelody.

I had imagined that this gig was going to be a riveting musical show, rather than an all-round ear-nourishing concert. Beside a couple of songs where she was fiercely wielding (not sure about the playing) a sequined and oh-so Peaches electric guitar, in fact, she basically went on singing over a ready-made base, so that the sound was neat and powerful, yes, but with a slight aftertaste of “canned”.

To my surprise, the ungroomed titan indulged in only some of the classic anthems, like “Fuck The Pain Away”, “Shake Yer Dix”, “Lovertits” (sorry mom…) and for the rest mostly tracks from the new album, including a highly negligible “I Feel Cream”.

Having secured a definitely danceable setup, however, all energies were clearly focused on keeping the audience panting with enthusiasm by the complementary usage of relentless transformation, interaction, and naughty gimmicks (sparking crotch, laser teasing, fake blood spat on the public… bad Peaches, bad!).

Few jaws may have dropped there, since Shanghai is no longer new to transgender shows, rich in experiments and nutty acts (Trippple Nippples, anyone?).

From many points of view, Peaches has been the cherry on top (pun unintended) of the trend. Hopefully she’ll pave the way for more unconventional gigs in the future, provided retaliation to the grumpy Censors. Only this kind of expression can provide the antidote to their repression.