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Plenty of drag queens can sing, and plenty of drag queens who can’t sing have released songs anyway. So when an alumnus of RuPaul’s Drag Race makes a foray into the world of recorded music, you can be forgiven for greeting it with a shrug.

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Which is part of the reason why season 16 breakout Plasma is making her debut a live album. She wants you to know that when she’s teasing out those melancholic money notes or whizzing through a difficult-to-untangle patter song, there’s no studio trickery and it isn’t the tenth take — it’s just her honest-to-goddess voice doing what it does best.

As Drag Race viewers know, Plasma is a Broadway baby through and through, a Gay White Way devotee whose humor and style draws on legends like Barbra Streisand and Bernadette Peters. While Plasma’s decision to make her debut LP a live record is an impressively risky one, the fact that it consists mainly of Broadway faves isn’t a shock — but smartly, the 26-year-old from Texas has peppered in a few surprises.

When I attended the Joe’s Pub show where Is Miss Thing On? (Live from Joe’s Pub) was recorded on July 28, there were two tunes I didn’t recognize: “A Schloon for the Gumpert” and “80 or Above.” The former is a song Streisand trotted out at her famous A Happening in Central Park show in 1968 but wasn’t included on the live album’s track list; the latter, however, is neither a Broadway classic nor an obscurity — it’s a new tune written by Plasma herself. But damned if it doesn’t sound like it could be a long-lost gem from some old musical forgotten over the decades.

Ahead of its release on Friday (Nov. 7) via Joy Machine Records, Plasma hopped on a Zoom with Billboard to talk about the advice from her family (both biological and drag) that influenced this album, how she landed Tony and Grammy winner J. Harrison Ghee for a duet, and which post-Covid Broadway show gave us “one of the most pivotal performances in American theater history.”

Why did you decide to make your debut album a live album, as opposed to a studio LP where you can do multiple takes and fix mistakes?

The primary inspiration was from my dad, actually. He raised me listening to Michael Bublé Meets Madison Square Garden and Adele’s Live From SoHo sessions, and all the greats who recorded live in the mid-century up until now.

When it came up that I wanted to record a debut album, my dad said, “Well, you could do it in the studio and feel perfect about it — but as we’ve always taught you, perfect is the enemy of great, and you are great in front of a live audience, because you are always better when you are performing, instead of sitting in a silent room worrying about the way you sound. So do it, don’t leave anything out. Don’t leave any stone unturned. Do it live, do it bold. Do it bravely, and don’t look back.” My dad’s very wise.

That’s great advice. Another marvelous live album you mentioned during your Joe’s Pub show is Barbra Streisand’s Live at the Bon Soir, which she recorded in 1962 but didn’t release until 2022. It’s so good, I can’t believe she didn’t release that back in the day.

I can’t either. And I found out very recently that the day after she recorded her last session at the Bon Soir, she did a cabaret series at the bar in the West Village called the Duplex in their upstairs cabaret space. That is genuinely, literally, the first bar in New York City that gave me a weekly show and it was in the upstairs space. So the Barbra connection deepens and deepens. That is the album that truly inspired this live album.

How did you pick the songs? Obviously there are Broadway faves, but there’s also some random, obscure stuff, even one I wasn’t familiar with.

Good! That is the goal. I’m actually wearing a t-shirt from an off-Broadway show called The Big Gay Jamboree, which is a very niche hit. I realized in my adult homosexual life that an obscure, niche reference gets me a lot of street cred with a tiny group of people that I respect, so the niche reference really guides my hand a lot in my work. I had a live show last year, right on the heels of my run on Drag Race, called All That Plazz. It was a diaristic approach of my life as it stood a year and a half-ish ago. I took that as a blueprint, and I whittled out the kinks or the things that didn’t really feel relevant anymore, or the things I didn’t identify with as personally, and I filled them in with things that felt really personal.

“Cry Me a River” [ed. note: the Arthur Hamilton song from the ‘50s, not the Justin Timberlake single] has always been one of my favorite songs. I’m also a Scorpio, so “Cry Me a River” is a bit of a vengeance anthem, which I love. “More” from Dick Tracy — I never sung that live until Joe’s Pub, but that was one of the first songs I lip synced to when I started doing drag in New York. I like to lure people in with songs that they will know, and then keep them sat with niche references that they’ve either forgotten about or they’ve never known existed. Uncovering that is how I fell in love with mid-century music, as well as people introducing me to music that no one hears anymore.

I love that you did “More.” It’s a fantastic song that kind of disappeared, because it’s on a Madonna album, I’m Breathless, that most people don’t return to.

I actually didn’t even know what it was from, or that Madonna had done it, for years — because I was obsessed with Ruthie Henshall’s version from Putting It Together, the Sondheim review on Broadway with Carol Burnett. That’s the one I lip synced to, and she’s just a powerhouse. Then when I learned that it was a Madonna song, I was like, “Well, I’ve already heard it sung correctly, so I don’t need to go back now.”

Look, I love Madonna, and her version is great, but I get that it’s certainly not like doing a Barbra song where you’re thinking, “How am I ever gonna match that range?”

Oh, my God, yeah. She has a cup of hot tea on the stage because she wants one. I have a cup of hot tea on stage because I have to do it. I have to treat my voice correctly if I’m gonna sing Barbra’s stuff.

That leads to one of the things I wanted to ask. Of the songs in that setlist, what’s the easiest one to sing for you, and what is the most challenging one?

God, that night, “More” was my biggest challenge. I went into it new, and I love the song, and I’ve known the song, but it is literally a key change minefield. Thank you, Stephen Sondheim. It’s also fast and it’s patter-y and it has some particular vocabulary that you have to really enunciate because it’s theatrical, so you want to make sure everyone is hearing the words. Whereas on something like “Misty” or “Cry Me a River,” you’re gooey, floaty, lovely.

“Cry Me a River” is one of those songs that I could sing if I had just gotten vocal fold surgery. For some reason, the older I get, the more I can put that song on vocal autopilot and listen to the words again and find new meaning in them. It just falls out of my mouth, and then by the end, I’m screaming, and I realize, “Oh, sorry that was really loud.” That one is the easiest, just because it comes naturally. I’m having an organic artistic response. [Laughs.] God, how pretentious.

You open with “Let Me Entertain You” from Gypsy. Did you see the latest Broadway staging of it with Audra McDonald, and what did you think of it?

I adored it. In the album, I talk about how jazz and mid-century music is largely accredited to, or it should be more accredited to, people of color. Because jazz, of course, has its roots in New Orleans and in the Black community. I think we think of jazz and we think of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, but we don’t think about Eartha Kitt and we don’t think about Carmen McRae or Sarah Vaughan or this plethora of Black artists who gave us the gift that, in my world, keeps on giving.

Seeing a production like Gypsy, which is written in a time of oppression but always talking about the white plight of show business, and then having it come under new direction and new vision from George C. Wolfe about Black people fighting even just for minimal visibility, and then still being robbed of it. And then, of course, the spiritual connection of Audra losing the Tony after one of the most pivotal performances in American theater history on the Tonys. Seriously, it feels like we’ve seen one of the first post-Covid truly monumental theater-making attempts with Audra’s Gypsy. And, of course, Joy Woods is a sensation.

Speaking of Tonys, you had J. Harrison Ghee come up for a duet during the show, which was beautiful. How did that come about?

Like all great queer connections, we met at a bar. I met J. a couple times, but the one that really stuck was we met at my friend Blacc Cherry’s Drag Race viewing party at Dive 106 earlier this spring. After that, we ran into each other at the Smash Broadway opening night red carpet. I grew up idolizing Tony Award winners and the Broadway theater excellence that implies. And when I met J., I still felt very much at home and very friendly and very communicative and also sisterly. There’s a lot of kiki energy, there’s a lot of “yes and” energy that you couldn’t quantify in a theater improv class. You could only quantify it by being human adults who have lived a little bit of the queer experience in New York City.

I asked them out of the blue. I was like, “How can I, as a white cisgender man, a twink, celebrate Black artistry through a jazz medium and also not invite a true, gifted informant of Black artistry–Black queer, non-binary artistry—into the room with me?” J. is also so generous. They have their Tony and their Grammy, and then cut to them gluing down my lace on the back of my neck that I didn’t know was there.

That’s a pro.

That’s a pro, that’s an empath. That’s generous. That’s someone who you want in the room with you.

During the show, you performed one song you had written, “80 or Above.” I don’t mean to sound backhanded, but it was surprisingly good. Usually when someone is singing a bunch of classics and then is like, “Here’s one I wrote myself,” you’re thinking, “OK, here we go,” but I was impressed. I could even imagine other singers singing it. What’s your songwriting process like?

Thank you so much. First of all, that’s very flattering. I will also tell you that I had reservations about writing music, because I’ve also sat in rooms where people will say, “You guys, the next song is a song that I wrote,” and it’s just like, oh my god, clench your napkin in your fist — because you’re gonna have to get through three minutes of someone’s passion project. And I will not name names.

I don’t even know what my songwriting process is. I read a lot of poetry in high school. I started back when I had a more regular journaling practice. I find myself writing in rhyme structure — maybe it’s just because I’m dramatic as hell and I’m a secret Shakespearean-hearted dramatic goon. I was feeling silly one day and started writing things out. And I was like, “what if I wrote this little song, and what if I came up with a melody that sounds like it came out of the Anita O’Day songbook?” And did something funny and kitschy and campy, but also poignant? As long as I came up with a melody that wasn’t irritating or TikTok, AI-generated, then I could be comfortable putting it out there, as long as it didn’t interrupt the flow of my grander show.

The fact that you can hear other people sing it means a great deal to me. I really am proud of it, and I’d like to write more. I ever were to record more music, I’d want to do a studio album, because I’ve done the live album, toss, toss [fake tosses hair]. I’d like to do something that’s half-original, half-niche covers, so that the line between things you know I wrote and things you don’t know at all is blurred.

What are your hopes for this album when it comes out? What do you want to do next?

I’d love for every Broadway producer in town to listen to it. It’s a great, big audition for something else. In the theater world, we say every audition is an audition for something else, or every interaction is an audition. At the same time, I am trying to identify myself post-reality TV as a real human with autonomous thoughts and control over my own narrative. I’m trying to position myself for opportunities that come beyond reality TV, for people who are equipped to take on narrative roles and theatrical roles and musical roles.

I would love to collaborate with other jazz artists. I’d love to be on Broadway. I’d love to sing live more. I’d love to blur the line between Plasma and Taylor, which is my legal name. I want to have the full breadth of what is possible for a queer person in 2025 available to me. The whole reason why you listen to a live album is because it doesn’t sound like the studio album, because someone is trying something in real time that is dangerous. If you mess up, everyone will see it, and that’s vulnerable, and it’s scary.

One of my dear friends is Privilege, a drag artist in Brooklyn. The night before I left for Drag Race, they gave me a little totem to take with me and they said, “I just want to encourage you to feel whatever fear you feel, and then do it scared.”

More great advice!

I don’t know a single queer person who’s not scared right now. I’d rather do something scared than rest on technological improvement or the gloss of legitimacy helping me out. I am who I am, and I rest on the laurels that I can present to you in real time and nothing else. And so that’s my priority, to live as authentically and unashamedly as possible.

Anything else you want to add, about the album or your life?

[Jokingly] Well, I’m still single and I’m still drinking too much, so that original song has never hit harder. No, I would encourage Drag Race fans to broaden the scope of what they perceive as possible from a Drag Race alumnus. I would also encourage music fans and theater fans to broaden their perspectives beyond Kinky Boots and La Cage aux Folles into what queer artists are capable of telling.