Idina Menzel has entered her Donna Summer era. Or maybe it’s Barbra's disco moment. Maybe Cher’s. Pick your gay icon—Idina's catching up, in platform heels.
“People often say, ‘Oh, it’s unexpected of you,’” she says, grinning, “but it didn’t feel like such a huge leap to me.” That’s because Drama Queen, her new album, plays like a dancefloor confessional—a shimmering, unapologetic swirl of empowerment, angst, and glitter. It’s the kind of record that demands a spotlight… or at least a decent pair of roller skates.
She credits the pandemic for the pivot. “I was sitting in quarantine, thinking about what kind of album I wanted to make,” she says. “I didn’t want to overthink it. I just wanted to do what I wanted to do.”
What she wanted to do was make a disco album that didn’t water down her voice. “I didn’t want a vibey record where I’m reeling it in. I wanted to sing. Big. Dynamic.” She turned to the genre that always let women wail. “Disco’s always been supportive of women's voices,” she says, “and it felt natural. I mean, even Barbra had a disco moment.”
And if you're doing disco, you might as well call Nile Rodgers. “I said, ‘Do you think this is crazy?’ And he was just… totally a Yes Man,” Menzel laughs. “He's not just a guitar god—he’s a composer, an arranger. And now this whole new generation’s found him again. I felt lucky to be in his house in Connecticut, just vibing.”
The album's centerpiece might be “Make Me Hate Me,” a fiery anthem wrapped in sequins and venom. “That one’s angry,” she admits. “I feel like I always have to be the role model, empowering, hopeful. But sometimes? I just want to rage a little. I have that too.”
She co-wrote it with her friend Laura Veltz, and it helped anchor the whole album's concept. “I’m proud of that lyric: ‘You can make me hate me, you can talk all in me, make a villain out of me…’ That was the moment I knew the album would be called Drama Queen. Because why is that term always negative? I wanted to reclaim it.”
She even recruited fellow glam maximalist Jake Shears of Scissor Sisters for a couple tracks. “We were in London and only had a short window,” she says. “So Jake and I rented a car, drove six hours to Wales, wrote lyrics in the car, ate with our producer Jim’s family, then went down into his basement studio. It was just… magic.”
Menzel is self-aware about the whole thing, too. “It might seem narcissistic,” she says of the album’s opening tracks “Move” and “Beast,” “but it’s about empowerment. Or maybe neediness. Probably both.”
She’s not afraid to admit the writing process still comes with insecurity. “I used to write songs on my own, and I hated it. I’d be up at night thinking I’d written something brilliant, then wake up and it sucked.” These days, she collaborates, spills her guts, and lets others help her shape it. “I’ll walk in like, ‘What do you want to know? Let’s exploit it for a good song.’”
Despite being a Tony-winning powerhouse and a Disney megastar, Menzel still fights to be taken seriously in pop. “We get pigeonholed, especially if you come from theater. People don’t always hear us with fresh ears. But I think I deserve that.”
She’s juggling everything, of course. The album. A children’s book (Proud Mouse). A clothing line. A tour. “Everything, all at once,” she says. But for now, she’s just happy to finally have a record that lets her dance—and scream—at full volume.
“This album makes me want to roller skate,” she laughs. “Which I haven’t done in a while. But maybe it’s time.”
Watch the interview above and then check out the video below.
