Trixie Mattel’s résumé is getting harder by the month to squeeze out in one breath: drag icon, reality TV veteran, YouTuber, podcaster, author, multi-instrumentalist, professional TV-watcher, Barbie doll collector, motel-flipping hospitality powerhouse, and DJ who’s now not just spinning tracks — she’s pumping out candy-colored remix-covers of pop staples, from Madonna’s “Hung Up” to No Doubt’s “Hella Good” (reimagined with the help of superstar songwriter Bonnie McKee). Mattel’s bringing more than a few of those talents together in Super Disco, a sci-fi epic DJ show touching down at musical festivals like Lollapalooza, Osheaga, Capitol Hill Block Party, and Outside Lands next month. “My choreographer is calling it a DJ opera,” she says. “There’s video content and stunts and choreography. It’s me as an alien coming down and rescuing humanity from the evils of greed and automation — and not a moment too soon, I might add.”
Where did the inspiration for this show come from?
I’m obsessed with superheroes, and originally I wanted to do something good-versus-evil. I was going to make the dance-party experience like an annual corporate retreat for superheroes and encourage the audience to come dressed as their own characters and have everyone wearing lanyards. The aliens were going to be the bad guys, but I watch too much news, and let’s be honest — the humans are the problem. So then I was like, “Well, Trixie should really be from another planet. Trixie should be beaming into the party and rescuing people, specifically the gay people at the party, and taking them to safety.”
DJing and drag are kind of intertwined in the nightlife space. From the outside, it made a lot of sense that you’d pick up DJing after starting your music career with Americana records — did it feel that way to you?
I’ve worked in nightclubs since I was basically underage, and you spend so much time in drag with the bartenders, with the DJ in the booth. Those are your people, your colleagues, your buddies. And so when COVID happened, I realized how privileged I was to work in nightlife because DJs are just constantly breaking new music to you. You don’t have to find your music taste. It finds you. I always had a crush on them. I remember feeling very in awe of them but also intimidated. It looks like Star Trek back there — if you touch one button, the whole building explodes.
But I played guitar for 20 years, and my undergrad degree is in music, so I had that foundation, and when COVID happened, I was also doing my own YouTube channel and building my skill set with sound and cameras. I’ve always been a little tech nerd. It was the moment in Power Rangers when they all come together and make the Megazord. So it just came very quickly. I went to the Guitar Center in Hollywood, bought a bunch of equipment, went home, and just spent all of COVID learning, learning, learning, learning, building my library, building my skill set. I wouldn’t say it came quickly, but it came organically — it was like a secret twin language I didn’t know I could speak. It feels like my calling that I didn’t start until my 30s. But it’s still my calling.
We should be more open to the idea that callings can materialize at any stage of life.
Absolutely. My idol RuPaul always says that the universe gives you stage directions, and I really believe that. There have been a lot of things in my career where intimidation or fear kept me from starting it sooner. I didn’t start playing guitar in drag. I didn’t start talking on a microphone until I was at a drag show and the host had a broken zipper and I had to stall. It always takes me too long to try something, and then I get that feeling right away of like, “This is the right thing.” When I did my first DJ gig, I was like, “This is the right thing.”
How are you thinking about what the Trixie DJ brand is when you start putting out your reworks and covers?
I have that gay person brain rot. The universe selects what is going to plant its roots in my brain. With “Hung Up,” my favorite part of the song is that “Time goes by/So slowly” part, not necessarily the “Every little thing” [hook]. So I wanted to make a remix that did not wrap around the chorus. Similar to when I did my “Barbie Girl” mix, I made a chorus out of “You can touch, you can play/If you say I’m always yours.” Sometimes there’s part of the song I think should be the chorus, and then that makes me feel, I guess, the audacity to remix something at home. And the good news is, when you produce music on your own, it can turn out bad and no one ever has to hear it. You have a lot of freedom of, I’m just going to try this.
Right now I’m working on a “Groove Is in the Heart” remix, not because I think you can improve on Deee-Lite, but because I’m a gay person and I think all my ideas are great. Toxic gay person thoughts.
I think to work in a creative field you have to have that occasionally delusional belief that your ideas are the best.
Right. I was always into playing guitar and singing, and I do love that. That comes from a place of journaling, almost — like it’s private thoughts.
What I adore about DJing – and the version of myself at 19 creating drag mash-ups in GarageBand – is the sensation of collage, reminiscent of cutting out magazine clippings and arranging them above your bed as a teenager. It’s that drag essence of combining elements from different sources – a movie, a celebrity, a song, a runway reference – to create something uniquely you. It’s a reflection of the influences that have shaped you.
For Super Disco, it brings to mind the first time I watched Mars Attacks!. The emotions I felt then still resonate with me today, which is why it found its way onto the mood board decades later. Even before I could articulate why, that movie spoke to me. Much like Rocky Horror and the release of “Hung Up” by Madonna. Remixing someone’s music is like throwing it into the air and asking everyone in the room, “Remember how incredible this was?” It’s a fresh twist on the original material, a love letter to its essence. Drag queens are ultimate fangirls.
The dance duo Sofi Tukker have discussed transitioning to more DJ gigs over traditional live performances for a sustainable touring model. As someone who has experienced both, does DJing feel like a simpler way to connect with your audience?
When I toured with my band, it involved three band members, a sound technician, and my assistant. Super Disco includes four dancers, so the touring party size is similar. In terms of production costs, dancers require less food, but I believe band members consume more drinks, so it evens out in terms of Costco runs.
However, not every show is as elaborate as Super Disco. For instance, when Mighty Hoopla in London booked me for a DJ set, it only entails showing up in drag. I attend with my boyfriend, leaving my assistant behind. I bring a touch-up kit and comfy Crocs in case my feet ache. It’s just me playing tunes, engaging with the crowd, lip-syncing, and enjoying the party before heading home. This format allows me to create a set specific to that event. When in London, expect more Spice Girls and similar tracks. The playlist is tailored to the occasion, unlike Super Disco, where people attend for that specific experience.
Performing a drag DJ set at a festival sounds intense.
Oh, the part of DJing that I struggle with is the sweltering heat. I fear I might collapse at Lollapalooza. At Lightning in a Bottle, I almost vomited. During “Let’s Have a Kiki,” there’s a moment where I interact with the audience, then snap my fan and turn around. [Trixie gets up and staggers through her living room.] I felt so unwell that I staggered to the backstage. Watching the footage, you can see me gesturing to the stage manager, signaling for water in a panic because I thought I might faint. The last 20 minutes of Super Disco felt like a battle for survival. But you know what? One of the other dancers left the stage to vomit, and he has abs, so that was reassuring.
There’s been a surge of reality stars entering the DJ scene lately. We see Housewives and Love Island contestants venturing into DJing. Is this the modern way to capitalize on fame, akin to the club appearances earlier reality stars made?
I often discuss different levels of fandom. Some fans may scroll past you on TikTok, seeking a quick laugh, while others progress to wanting a personal interaction or meeting. I believe these reality stars turned DJs are offering another layer of engagement.
I enjoy watching shows like Love Is Blind for the human aspect. If you appreciate Kelly Clarkson on American Idol, you can attend her concert to deepen your connection. Similarly, DJing provides a new way for these reality stars to connect with their audience. Erika Jayne from Real Housewives of Beverly Hills already had a musical background, including Broadway performances, but she seeks to offer a distinct experience.
Some individuals simply want a night out with drinks, music, and an Instagram story featuring Bob the Drag Queen as the host. Even if they aren’t die-hard dance music fans, they relish in a night of revelry led by you. There’s an underlying wholesomeness to this experience, as for many, it might be their sole dance party of the year. Just as a reality show about DJs could attract viewers who adore house music but are new to reality TV. The fusion of genres is intriguing.
I remember being a non-famous drag queen and being amazed by the earnings of renowned drag queens. When a famous drag queen performs at your bar, the venue fills up, and everyone profits.
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Having experienced the closure of a bar a few years ago, my perspective on hospitality has shifted. I now believe that any initiative that attracts customers, boosts drink sales, and supports venues is crucial for the industry. Whether it’s through promotions, events, or unique offerings, getting people through the door is essential for the success of bars and other hospitality spaces.
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