A Peaches show is full of boobs. Boobs, vagina headpieces, shoulder pads, thongs, studs, granny panties (her words, not mine) and a lot of hot, sticky skin. On her groundbreaking album The Teaches of Peaches, the Berlin-based, Canadian artist channelled the rage of a health scare and a breakup into 11 tracks of smutty, crunchy, punky electroclash, grabbing us all by the figurative balls and hitting us in the face with the 2000 version of free the fucking nipple.

For more than 20 years, Peaches has used her voice, her Roland MC-505 and her searing stage presence to shred apart stereotypes about women, gender, sex, sexuality and more. She's a multidisciplinary queer and feminist icon who, through her work as a musician, performance artist, director, curator and more, places intersectionality at the forefront of her mission. Her music, like her live show, is invigorating and electrifying, creating a liberating space for her fans to be who they want to be without judgement. In Peaches' world there are no rules or expectations of perfection, just an invitation to bare all—whether that's your soul or your camel toe.

This year, the Teaches of Peaches documentary will be released, covering Peaches' career, the story behind the album and its 2022 anniversary tour. Featuring interviews with Peaches, her team, peers and loved ones, the film premiered at the 74th edition of the Berlinale, winning the esteemed Teddy Award for queer filmmaking.

For International Women's Day, I spoke to Peaches about the upcoming documentary, her approach to costume, how the experience of non-male artists has changed throughout her career and the importance of "letting it all happen."

In Peaches' world there are no rules or expectations of perfection, just an invitation to bare all.

The name Peaches came from Nina Simone's "Four Women" and the lyrics about women's struggles. Can you tell us about that?

Well, I wouldn't say that I identify as having the same struggles as the women in this song. But Nina Simone is amazing. Her whole career, her powerful nature, there's many things to talk about that I respect, love and aspire to. I also found the way she sings "they call me Peaches" so, so passionate. It stabbed a hole through my heart in its sheer determination and power. It serves as a reminder.

The music industry has changed a lot in the time you've been making music. I wonder what you think the biggest changes are that you've experienced as a non-male artist?

There's my own path and there's the path of non-male musicians, so they're not congruent, but they are [connected]. For me, the more I stuck with what I was doing—despite the "one trick pony" shtick—there's been more respect for me in "the industry" in that way. The understanding of different perspectives has grown too, and the openness. That doesn't mean there wasn't openness before, but there's a better understanding now, of saying things freely from different gazes instead of just a male gaze. It doesn't have to fit into a box of how you see anybody who's not a male artist.

There was a particular quote in the documentary, where you said that at first, "no one believed I made the beats."

Yeah, that happened a lot.

This is something that's come up in several interviews I've done over the years.

Oh really?

Yes, this assumption that machines are for men and men are the producers. And that people won't go into a DJ booth and assume that the woman is the sound engineer.

Props to Prince for always making sure he had a woman as an engineer and a mixer. He always had very talented women on stage too, like Wendy [Melvoin], Lisa [Coleman] and Sheila E.

What has your experience been in this regard?

It was just something that I experienced. The same would happen if I played guitar—not that I'm such a great guitar player—but people would be like, "oh, that's just on the backing track." People would question if I was really singing, too. There were a lot of questions.

I think it was also wrapped up in understanding how somebody could be using the machine and not standing still but taking performative rock & roll elements, rather than treating machines as though they were scientific experiments on the stage.

I understand you often intentionally keep your voice quite deadpan to focus on the lyrics.

That was the goal, especially on the first album. It was very important to me because I wanted the lyrics to come first and to drill through in their repetitiveness and nakedness. They're a bit uncomfortable for some people. Nothing is hidden behind singing and melody. There is some melody, but this way, there's less discussion about "oh she can sing," "oh, she can't sing," blah, blah, blah.

I'd love to hear about your approach to costume. You've said you didn't necessarily intend for Peaches to be so tied to costume, but it's developed into a very key part of the live experience. What's your process when you're creating looks?

It's not really true that I was never interested in costume. When I started, a costume was that I would wear a pair of paints and undo the zip. I was intentionally undoing the zip, which set a mode that anything could happen. You know, my pants could come down, or people might feel uncomfortable and want to tell me to zip them up. In a way it could be like a prank, and in another, it's saying "I don't care what you see."

Later, I was getting reports [laughs] that people found me aggressive and–in early 2000s speak–very masculine. It was very binary, questioning if I am, in fact, really female? So I took that opportunity to wear very tight, pink, short bathing-suit bottoms. They were really cheap, really tight, and you could see my pubic hairs and my camel toe. It was intentional, to make people feel discomfort, maybe arousal, or determining that it's okay for me not to be perfect. In the documentary we talk about [this idea that] the hair on your eyelashes is beautiful, but your pubic hairs are ugly—this costume was playing around with that. Costumes for me have to be active, they're not just adornments.

"And what's most important for me is that even when I'm using all these costumes, at one point I'm always in my underwear with just nipple covers."

People started throwing things on stage to me, like this woman who made fingerless gloves. I had a song "AA XXX" and she threw me a pair attached to a cape that said "XXX." I immediately connected to it, thinking about Ozzy Osbourne, or Kiss, this whole tradition of male rock & roll [musicians] with capes who would spit blood. So I started using the cape in the show and I'd pretend to be sick. During "Stuff Me Up" people would throw things and–I probably wouldn't do this now–but I'd eat anything that was edible. Then I'd come back, pretend to feel sick, and then I'd go to puke but I'd spit blood instead.

I met a talented designer called Vaughan Alexander in New York. He looked me up and down, introduced himself and came back a few hours later with all these leather hot pants. Before I left Toronto, my friend who had a dildo company made me two leather dildos with harnesses. Those became a big part of my show with the hot pants.

By the time I was on my third album, [Alexander] and I sat down and I knew I wanted to honour my love for The Runaways, Suzi Quatro and this rock & roll women style for the all-girl band I had called the Herms. And so we would wear these leather outfits and we just took it further and further with ideas.

And then I met Charlie Le Mindu, who was cutting hair, and we were inspired by each other. We would dream up things together, they started to make costumes and it grew very organically. I also had one dancer from Australia named Jess Daly who really loved making costumes. She made my first boob costume, which had boobs all over with Barbie heads as the nipples. They all have individual punk haircuts. It looks like a football shoulder pad thing that comes on and off. It's very important that these costumes can be durable–throw on, throw off and make a big impact. I love the element of surprise too, a reveal under a reveal under reveal.

And what's most important for me is that even when I'm using all these costumes, at one point I'm always in my underwear with just nipple covers. Nipple covers are a costume to me, and a symbol of hiding the nipple. When I'm in my nipple covers and underwear—I call them my granny panties—I think people look at that and go "oh my God." It really speaks to what is going on.

"In the documentary we talk about [this idea that] the hair on your eyelashes is beautiful, but your pubic hairs are ugly." Peaches uses costume to play around with that.

Thinking about the aesthetic of your live show—and Le Mindu working on styles that look and feel good regardless of gender—how does this approach extend to the rest of your band and dancers?

For Rub I had two dancers, one being Jess Daly. She made the first vagina costumes after she listened to the album. It was fully collaborative. In terms of The Teaches of Peaches tour, [Le Mindu] wanted to do something with [guitarist] Bláthin's hair. Bláthin came with that look and said, "I've always wanted to do this but never had the courage." Then I met la fille d'O, which is non-binary lingerie, and they wanted to work with me [on the tour looks]. With Tif, the drummer, she said she didn't want to get a rash and her arms needed to be covered. So we always do whatever that person needs to also feel comfortable. But by the third show, she wasn't wearing anything! I want [the team] to interpret how they see it. But when they're open to the ideas it's really helpful and special. It feels good for them and brings confidence to the whole show.

I love that image of Tif thinking they wanted to wear something at first and then three shows in, it was all off. That's the Peaches effect. I wanted to ask about your fans. Who are they? How would you describe them?

I don't know, there's so many different kinds of fans. And so many beautiful things they've said to me, about how I've changed their lives, how I helped them with their confidence, with wanting to try out new kinds of music, how they came out–whatever way they came out, how they felt good and sexy, how they felt really powerful. Really heartwarming, beautiful stories. So many different people have been around for so many years. To meet fans who have been there from the beginning is really [special], because they might change a lot but they still have this great feeling about what I do.

In the film, you say how you always wanted the mainstream to come closer to you, and in some ways it has. Pop is different now, electronic music is different now. There's still work to do, but music is more inclusive. What do you mean when you say that the mainstream has come towards Peaches?

I think that it was confusing for people to understand how important it is for people to be who they need to be. And that's the message I was trying to get across, that I felt like the mainstream was too narrow to be diverse or intersectional.

Do you think there's been a notable change in the way that women artists will sing about masturbation, sex and the importance of their own pleasure?

Well, there was the Divinyls and their song "I Touch Myself," and Cyndi Lauper had a song called "She Bop." It's really cute, it makes fun of the '50s in a way and it's also about masturbation. So there were definitely songs about it. But I think now it's more like, "I woke up and masturbated, now let's get on with the song." These things are more normalised now.

Peaches uses her searing stage presence to shred apart stereotypes about women, gender, sex and sexuality.

Which artists are you most excited by in terms of their stage presence or the way they present their beliefs and politics through their performance?

I love Arca's whole everything, just beautiful, beautiful contemporary performance. I also love Fever Ray, who came up around the same time as me. I love their approach. Also COBRAH. I love a lot of the female rappers because they're just going hardcore on everything and they're so unfazed by it all. I'm obsessed with the City Girls and, of course, Megan [Thee Stallion] and Cardi [B]. Rico Nasty is amazing, and so is KALIII. There are so many!

Thinking about aspiring young artists in electronic music who want to have a bold live performance, what advice would you give in terms of having the confidence to lose your inhibitions on stage?

First of all, make sure it's what you really want to do. Because if it goes well then you're going to have to do it a lot. And you don't want to start hating what you do.

On the second part, you just have to try out a bunch of things and find out, that's how you build confidence. You know, undoing the zip on my pants was a big deal for me. Or if I undid an extra button while I was playing. It doesn't have to be a physical thing, but you'll know quickly what works and what doesn't. You don't have to try in front of a lot of people, but you do have to put your hours in. And then once you find out what works for you, that also connects with an audience, you have to make sure that you like what you're doing.

I was thinking about your job at the YMCA doing music sessions with the kids, and how school can be very prescriptive. What do you think about the importance of kids having time to mess around and be creative?

That was my point exactly, because when I grew up there was no room for progression. It was more of a product. "Can you sing this note? No, you can't. Next person, who can sing this note? We're doing a play and your parents are coming." Then my approach was "you can't sing this note? That's great. Why don't you sing this note [instead]? You can sing it all day long. Your parents will never be here. We can all sing that note if you like. Who else wants to sing that note?" It was just a matter of letting kids explore.

I was obviously determined to be in a creative life and mode. But I'd never really known that, because I never really got a chance. Every time I would try it would be yes or no, not "let's go!"

If you could go back to the beginning of Peaches and give your younger self some wisdom, what would you say?

People enjoyed how angry I was, but I didn't really need to be so angry. I think everything I did shaped everything I did. So I'd say just let all of it happen. The good, the bad, but feel safe. Don't do things that don't make you feel safe. You're not going to feel great all the time, and that's okay. You just take notes of those things and find a way to continue to do what you do. Feel at peace with it.

Teaches of Peaches will be released in Germany on May 9th

"Everything I did shaped everything I did. Just let all of it happen."