It was a case of "Do you want to be in my gang (bang)?" as the empress of lo-fi sleaze kicked off her set with a glam-rock stomp.

The capacity crowd didn't need asking twice after seeing her strut on stage wearing a peroxide blonde wig.

Jimi Hendrix she isn't, nor Johnny Thunders for that matter, but musicality was hardly the point.

When you purchase a ticket to this one-woman electro karaoke freak show, you're buying into Peaches' hardcore sexual attitude.

Occasionally joined on stage by two towering female dancers wearing trucker caps and false beards, there was the feeling anything could happen if the mood took her.

But what of the songs? Sparse electro beats, filthy raps, singalongs and occasional "Motorhead moments" made up the set.

Unfortunately, when so much of an act is image or attitude that can be so easily plundered by pop svengalis (remember this is a world where Gareth Gates sports a mullet similar to many in the Peaches crowd, while Britney and Christina get off with Madonna on stage), it's going to be difficult for Peaches to remain alternative and vital unless she keeps pushing those boundaries.

Review by Michael Chambers,