On paper, a Sunday night show seems more trouble than it’s worth. For the bridge and tunnel crowd there’s no metro, and for all a choice of three hours sleep or calling in sick. Yet, there was a palpable energy Sunday at the 9:30 club’s late show, due entirely to the night’s star attraction, Canadian provocateur Peaches.

The city’s most bohemian — baristas, booksellers and burlesque performers — were in a collective good mood. They were kind to minors left over from the Reel Big Fish show and amicably chatted with strangers during the pre-show jostling period. When opener, Quintron, took the stage, he was greeted with the warmth of most headliners.

Decked in a white suit with mirrored sequins, the New Orleans native sat centerstage at a keyboard/organ with a Packard façade. He was joined by Miss Pussycat, a woman with Alice-in-Wonderland’s dress and quilted maracas. Musically and aesthetically, the pair resembled “Rock Lobster”- era B-52s. (Especially when joined by a redheaded singer also bearing maracas.) Quintron pounded his keys, stomped and banged the heck out of his ride cymbal. All the while Miss Pussycat added high-pitched, sometimes painful, vocals. Often more loud than good, Quintron propelled his act through force of personality, chatting with audience members and dancing in the pit during “Badass.” By the end of his set, you might have been undecided on his music but you were probably a fan of Quintron.