When soft-spoken Merrill Nisker—a.k.a. nasty electro queen Peaches—asks the robotic musical question, “Whose jizz is this?” on “Dick In The Air,” it’s business as usual on the single from her newest album, Rub. Yet, with the rawness of that most recent release—as well as the publication of What Else Is In The Teaches Of Peaches, a book of photographs by Holger Talinski—the Canadian caution is more iconic than ever: a stripped-down, hardnosed, overtly sexualized artist untamed by any possible (and potential) mainstreaming.
I ask this only because I think she’s always been cast in a serious light. You worked on videos for the new album with Kim Gordon and Margaret Cho. Who was funnier to work with?
Wow, pitting them against other, huh? Well, Margaret is a comedian and totally up for anything that we were doing in the name of humor. “Here’s the mildly o ffensive yellow Asian outfit that’d I’d like you to wear while I put on the Caucasian pink costume.” “OK,” she’d say. “Margaret, we’re going to suck our own dicks in this video.” “Sure, no problem.” We have the same comic sensibilities, and I kind of knew that. With Kim, however, it was an incredible surprise. I told her that I wanted her to play my trainer, but she had to act as if she had no interest in training me. I just wanted her to be busy smoking an e-cigarette. She was totally cool with it, and easy being comic.
I know you directed theater stuff and taught drama before you got to pop music. I know you directed stage show Peaches Does Herself and the “Dick In The Air” video, as well as promo stuff for your first album. Did you live by the Hollywood dictum “Yeah, but what I really want to do is direct”? Was that a real goal?
I gave up the theater thing because I didn’t really want to work with actors. When I took up pop stu ff, I realized that I could be everything: director, writer, producer, performer. That became a vision. So, I’m a control freak with a vision. By this point, I have an idea when I can direct something and when I can’t.
Yoko Ono. You’ve worked with her on her stu ff—you did her conceptual art piece Cut Piece. She repaid the favor by doing a foreword for your photo book. How did that relationship come together?
She’s incredible, the very height of art and performance over the last 50 years. Yuka Honda (Cibo Matto) gave Yoko an album of mine for one of her birthdays, and then she called and asked me to do a remix for her “Kiss Kiss Kiss.” She came to Berlin on her 80th birthday to perform and asked me to join her and do my favorite song of hers, and I chose, “Yes, I’m A Witch,” which is just so relevant. While we were singing the song together, she turned to me and said, “You are a truly powerful woman.” Now, that was something else. Ever since then, we’ve remained in contact, and she’s brought me into several things—just like her Cut Piece, where I was quiet and naked onstage; things I would never be.
How did the photo book come together? It’s great fun—a sort-of anti-Madonna Sex.
The photographer was fresh out of photography school and was this skateboard kid, and he was curious if I was all that—like, “What’s the hype?” So, he started coming to my shows and taking pictures. We invited him on tour, and suddenly he’s asking to meet my family or to come over when I was alone and smoking a joint. He just wanted to be around, and I just felt comfortable with him. There were no weird ulterior motives, and it was never about him.
That’s very telling—this person breezed into your life and you were just open to it. “Come on in.” Is that a common thing?
No, that’s not normal. There has to be chemistry. And it wasn’t ever like, “Hey, I’m changing my panties. Wanna come see?” It was slow and gradual. He was thoughtful, and made himself invisible. He was respectful. You have to fi nd the people that you are most comfortable with in this business, because it can get crazy. You can’t have people pulling you every which way with their agenda.
It’s 15 years since your first album …
… to the day. This week, actually.
Would you say that making art/music with this persona—whatever you wish to call it— is the same on Rub as it was on The Teaches Of Peaches? Are there radical changes?
I think it’s much the same as when we started, but that it’s taken 15 years for people to get it. People might have wondered if I was a onetrick pony, but I have outlasted so many others. It’s pretty nice to stick around and reap the rewards. Within the same 15-year period, do you feel as if the onstage you and the o stage you have merged, or are they more separate than ever? Do you make certain that the gap stays wide? Yes, I think that the Peaches onstage is an extension of me and my real personality. I don’t think that it’s ever a problem or uncomfortable or anything. There are no issues. I feel like a normal person. The only time that’s compromised is when you release an album— because everything goes nuts all at once. The pressure of this, having to talk about myself every day, blah blah blah, is a bit much, but I set it up that way and in its time. I don’t want to disappear into that stage character. That’s how I can continue, you know. I don’t ever want to look at this or her as a chore. It’s funny: I had a bad day yesterday, all day, except for one moment—when I got onstage. Then all of a sudden, I was comfortable and enjoyed myself. It was truly special.
—A.D. Amorosi
