Charles Busch’s New Phase Isn’t Drag. It’s Green Paisley.

Perched on a stool on the stage of Feinstein’s/54 Below, Charles Busch eased into the primary bars of Diana Ross’s torchy 1973 hit “Touch Me in the Morning,” his voice comfortable and husky, his supply relaxed however rueful. Busch turned freshly enamored of the ballad after catching a YouTube audio clip of Peggy Lee singing it to a London viewers as “this morose, tragic self-indictment,” he stated admiringly. But when Busch performs it in his new present “Native New Yorker,” which opens Wednesday on the cabaret membership, he gained’t essentially channel Lee or Ross — no less than, not in the best way he may need previously.

As an actor and author, Busch is among the many most prolific and influential drag artists of his technology, giving us memorable ladies (and males) in solo efficiency, and in performs and movies equivalent to “Vampire Lesbians of Sodom,” “Psycho Beach Party,” “Die Mommie Die” and “The Divine Sister.” Busch crafted style parodies that transcended camp of their fantastical parts and their abiding affection for the basic movies and grandes dames who impressed him. But in cabaret, a kind Busch has dipped into at varied factors together with his musical director Tom Judson, he started to query his strategy.

“I started doing it in drag because that’s how people know me,” stated Busch, additionally identified by Broadway audiences for writing the Tony-nominated hit “The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife.” “But I don’t have a drag persona like, say, RuPaul. I’d come here to 54 Below and they’d say, ‘Charles Busch!’ — and I’d come out looking like Arlene Dahl, then tell true stories about my life.” Starting a couple of 12 months and a half in the past, he thought, “Cabaret is about being real, and I’ve got to see what it’s like stripping off the veil.”

The development was a part of a course of that began six or seven years again, and coincided with “this terrible period of dissatisfaction and brutal self-assessment,” Busch stated. “I’m normally a very resilient person, but I was in a bad mood for about a year and a half, feeling disappointed in my creative life.”

In response, Busch “called in the Marines” — and rang a therapist he hadn’t seen in years. Later, “I took the radical move of actually taking some singing lessons. And you know, they work. I’d always approached songs as monologues, where it’s about the lyrics, and the melodies are Tom’s job,” he stated. “I’ve had to learn that the composer also has something to offer, that the melody is also useful as a form of emotional expression.”

In his final cabaret present, “My Kinda ’60s,” Busch appeared again on his childhood and adolescence, paying homage to the aunt who raised him after his mom died. “Native New Yorker” options music from the next decade, “an interesting and sexy period for me, going from college to figuring out how I’ll somehow earn a living in theater and be true to who I am,” he stated. The songs are culled from pop, movie and Broadway, veering from Stephen Sondheim (“Pretty Woman,” “In Buddy’s Eyes”) to Henry Mancini (“Whistling Away the Dark”) to Rupert Holmes (“Widescreen”) and Jim Croce (“I Got a Name”).

To develop his non-drag sartorial fashion, Busch, who describes himself as a “pretty conservative” dresser offstage, went again to his East Village roots and booked a present on the membership Pangea in 2017. “I just wore a black shirt and black pants, and it felt great. Then I thought, am I so lacking in imagination in this gender-fluid age that I’m either in full drag or dressed as a waiter? So I had this young costume designer, Jimmy Johansmeyer, make me this man’s suit, a green paisley thing with rhinestone buttons. I would say it’s the place where Bruno Mars meets Judy at the Palace. There’s a place, you know?”

And Busch has no plans to abandon drag in his primary vehicle for it, theater. Next January, Primary Stages will present his latest play, “The Confession of Lily Dare,” in which he’ll portray — as he did last year, in a staging at Theater for the New City — the titular heroine as she evolves, over decades, from a convent girl to a cabaret chanteuse to the madam of a string of brothels. “I wanted to see if we could have outrageous fun with these old movie conventions — the gauzy 1930s mother-love dramas — and get a sophisticated, ironic 2018 audience to be genuinely emotionally affected. And we really did it.”

In “Native New Yorker,” Busch will again nod to the real “embattled woman” who stuck with him through the decade of struggle and adventure traced in the show, which ends with the 1985 Off Broadway opening of “Vampire Lesbians.” For “I Got a Name,” he took the unusual step of revising a lyric: “I sing, ‘And I carry it with me for my aunt to see,’” Busch said, then paused because he was getting choked up. “I was very fortunate to have someone who was always on my side,” he said. “I’ve been fortunate in every way.”

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