Behind the Velvet Curtain

Peach PRC and the Power of Queer Spaces

Written by Vuk Winrow (@vuk.winrow)

Forgive me for beginning with a cliche, but as an evening warmth fell upon Brighton, the sea calmly lapping the shore, I felt as though I’d arrived at a queer sanctuary of sorts. The urban grit beheld in London venues replaced by pebbles on the beach, meanwhile a sea of people gathered to enter CHALK. The name Peach PRC had initially been unfamiliar to me, although it did generate some obsessive commentary from my queer girlfriends. What was clear however, was that  this concert had arrived in a timely manner to combat rising anti-queer sentiments generated by fascist politicians who would rather relegate us as unseen and unheard. This space however, with which my historian’s background could argue bore similarity to some of the sultrier 19th century cabarets (only this time with fairy wings) that I had read about, was somewhere where the full spectrum of queerness could be expressed. Being loud, being tender, being messy, and being sharp all at once.

Without sugarcoating the queer experience, amidst a whirlwind of pastel colours and fantasy aesthetics harkening back to y2k (another touch of the past to compliment my historian’s heart), a sense of community pulsed through every lyric. It was comforting, even to those unfamiliar with Peach’s work, something necessary for queer environments. Stitching together fragments of identity and belonging that often get frayed by the harsh reality we as queer people live in in the outside world, concerts like these become a radical recognition of the importance of cultivating community. Making bubblegum pop taste bittersweet in songs like Secret, or even playing into my own personal past with the lyrics to Josh (a name all too many have been affected by), Peach PRC turned her concert into a communion of queer energy. Bringing together those from across the spectrum of sexuality and gender, it fostered an intimate unity within a community which is increasingly at risk of internal divisions, combatting this risk through an expression of collective joy and celebration. 

The evening’s joyful chaos was complimented by a perfectly tailored setlist. Ranging from hyper-pop to intimate ballads, each song represented a chapter in the queer experience. A masterful storytelling of what it means to be intimately queer in the present-day. In Peach PRC’s own words in Like A Girl Does, her lyrics sharply cut through a musical landscape which feels hesitant to address the minimisation of romantic love between women. Loved You Before upkept this same feeling of intimacy between singer and lover, and singer and crowd, but thrust the audience into a delightful ambiguity around love and relationships. Shifting across timeframes of 1944 and the present meditatively pauses on what it means to feel eternally loved and wanted, what I would like to call an ‘inherently queer’ emotion. 

The staging was fitting for such lyrical contemplations. Straddling the line between intimacy and distance, with it often being just Peach and the guitarist on stage, the music pulsed through the crowd. It felt equal parts the excitement of a concert mixed with the desire to revive and rival queer performance of the ages, becoming part of a lineage of queer spectacle which often existed at the edge of visibility. Similar to the cabarets of 19th century Paris or Weimar Berlin, this intimacy cultivates a space where queerness slips between shadows and spotlights staged in pastels rather than darkness. In the staging dynamics between singer and guitarist, Peach crafts a temporary and endlessly charged musical world for the audience to be loud and vibrant in the face of silence. In these visuals, Peach carries forward an undeniably queer tradition of musical performance being a language for those denied one, finding freedom in the stage where real life might falter. 

Closing the show with God Is A Freak, broke through the intimacy with a raw political fire. Yelling back at religious hypocrisy which seems to dominate and determine queer life, picked a poignant and cathartic note to end Peach’s performance of her own songs.

Refusing to disappear under the shame and control which often dominates such religious thinking as reflected in Peach’s lyrics, created a rallying cry against those who try to suppress our voices. Fusing pride and protest with introspection, the show created an electrifying moment to take refuge in the contradictions of queer life. Loud but tender, it gave the audience a chance to breathe without policing or explanation. Where queer identities are still being boxed and sold into socially acceptable packages, concerts like these build a soundtrack for community survival. They amplify unheard voices, but ultimately carry a buzzing energy that can’t be put down, not by the end of the concert and not by anyone either.