Kim David Smith‘s face fills the Zoom frame, glasses perched on his nose, dressed in minimal home attire—a stark contrast to his glamorous stage persona. Yet even through the digital interface, his voice carries the same magnetic quality that captivates audiences in darkened cabarets. The self-described “internationally fame-ish cabaret nuisance” speaks in flowing, passionate sentences that often end in bursts of laughter. His Australian accent has softened over nearly two decades in America, morphed into something he describes as “very mixed” that occasionally slides into what he calls “a stupid, fake Liza voice” when the mood strikes.
Smith is preparing for the March 21 release of his new album and accompanying performance at Joe’s Pub, both titled Mostly Marlene. The project represents the culmination of years refining his cabaret persona, a gender-bending, boundary-pushing homage to one of history’s most celebrated bisexual entertainers.
“Mostly Marlene is a behemoth of joyous gay sensibilities,” Smith explains. “Minnelli, Minogue, and of course, Marlene are manifested not only in the idolatry practice of queer worship—arguably an artform in and of itself—but also as a musical tableau against which I exist in my gayest form.”
The album’s release after a contentious election year is deliberate. “Releasing this record in 2025 feels akin to an act of protest. In fact, I declare it as such,” Smith says with conviction. “Wreathing myself in the music of one of the world’s most celebrated bisexuals, I pronounce myself QUEER with every whispered aside and every belted showtune alike.”
Finding the Weimar in a Modern World
Smith’s fascination with the music of Weimar-era Germany began long before he could name it. Growing up in rural Australia, cabaret influences filtered into his consciousness through unexpected channels.
“It crept in through the wider cultural psyche,” he reflects. “Like Jessica Rabbit singing ‘Why Don’t You Do Right’ in Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Tiny wee Kim, me as a baby, was just kind of like, ‘Oh my God, who is this lady? I would be this lady.'”
He continued bookmarking these “little visitations” until eventually discovering Marlene Dietrich “singing ‘Black Market’ in an enormous, dusty basement cabaret,” he says. “And you’re like, ‘Yeah, this lady too.’ You’re just adding them and adding them… you still don’t know the word ‘cabaret,’ but you recognize this thing. This setting that’s drawing you in.”
At home, amid the ABBA and Queen records that were family staples, his mother played Edith Piaf—planting early seeds of cabaret appreciation. “Piaf, in my childhood, introduced an immediate cabaret, connective sensibility,” Smith notes.
The theatrical tradition runs deep in Smith. He attended music theater school with his two best friends and began setting up cabaret shows before graduation. “On the last day of uni, I had already set up my first shows at The Butterfly Club in Melbourne,” he says.
Dietrich as Muse and Armor
Smith’s reverence for Dietrich isn’t mere impersonation, but a channeling of her transgressive spirit. Critics have dubbed him “the male Marlene Dietrich” (The New York Times) and “the love child of Marlena and David Bowie” (The Boston Globe, another review he cites with pride).
The 21-track Mostly Marlene album, recorded live at Joe’s Pub with bonus studio duets, centers largely on Friedrich Hollaender’s compositions for Dietrich. Smith explains that “completely accidentally, I think there’re maybe only one or two Marlene tunes on this record that were not written by Friedrich Hollaender. My album is very much illustrative of my obsession with his songwriting and his musical relationship with Marlene.”
The album features selections from Dietrich’s iconic film career like “Falling in Love Again” (The Blue Angel, 1930) and “Black Market” (A Foreign Affair, 1948), alongside contemporary touches like Smith’s performance of Kylie Minogue’s “Padam Padam” translated into French.
“I’m so thrilled to be nominated for a 2025 MAC award,” Smith adds, “and even more so by the announcement that Charles Busch will be presented with the 2025 MAC Award for Lifetime Achievement. In a curious coincidence, our song, a Dietrich-drenched cover of Marlene’s ‘Illusions,’ was released to streaming services the day after the nominations were announced.”
The duet with Busch reflects Smith’s approach to creative collaboration. “Charles kindly penned a ‘mini-scene’ of dialogue for the track, spoken over the strains of a sneaky ‘I Should Be So Lucky’ sample,” he explains. “Charles and I, in seeking a fitting mental setting for the song, decided it felt like an old-timey MGM dressing room scene between an ingénue and an established first lady of the American stage.”
Making Performance Personal
Smith’s approach to cabaret centers on entertainment rather than education—though whimsical historical tidbits find their way into performances when they serve the show’s energy.
“I’ll sprinkle factoids in and out, as long as they’re things that I think are amusing or are going to tickle someone,” he says, “but I’m never going to give someone the full lowdown. That’s what Wikipedia is for.”
His performances balance meticulous preparation with spontaneity. Some bits become signature moments, like introducing himself three times at the show’s beginning. He explains this as “basically the rule of three—people don’t hear something or absorb something unless it’s been mentioned at least three times.”
Other moments emerge organically. “So much just happens during the course of an evening,” he says. “It is a skill to be able to observe yourself in a spontaneous moment, because it’s about just enough, never too much.”
His primary goal isn’t to lecture his audience, but to create joy. “Rather than somebody leaving feeling informed and knowing when a song was written, I would much prefer they had a good time,” Smith insists. “For me, it’s just the same as trying to make friends with one person as with an entire room. You’ve got to be engaging. You’ve got to listen, and you’ve got to be yourself.”
That authenticity extends to his process of finding himself in each song. “If I’m workshopping a song—and I’m always workshopping a song, it’s my favorite thing to do, finding myself in a song—I’ll do a couple of passes as Eartha [Kitt] in my Eartha-adjacent voice. Or I’ll do a real big Shirley Bassey run of a song.”
This vocal exploration isn’t about mimicry but discovery. “Sometimes wearing the guise of these divas will really unlock a troublesome passage of a song,” he explains. “For example, if I’m being way too earnest, I wonder: what would Eartha do?”
Queer Joy as Resistance
The political backdrop of 2025 weighs on Smith, though he’s determined not to let it diminish his joy. When discussing the current presidency, his tone becomes more measured.
“I don’t want to talk about who’s president every single day,” he says. “I don’t want that in my life. I want to talk about Kylie Minogue every day, and I do. I want to talk about Marlene Dietrich every day, and I do.”
Smith emphasizes a deliberate approach to maintaining mental balance while staying engaged. “It’s not necessarily head-in-the-sand, because I’m staying informed,” he clarifies. “Know what’s happening, but don’t live in it. Don’t dwell in the muck and become poisoned. I don’t want that for myself.”
For Smith, cabaret offers both an escape and a platform for resistance—particularly in these troubled times. “I harness my rage and deploy it in songs like ‘Pirate Jenny.’ ‘Pirate Jenny’ is all about giving it to the patriarchy,” he explains. “I seize those moments and I use them. I’m happy to do so, but I don’t want to wake up with palpitations every day.”
As he revels in the “dawn of his 40s,” Smith refuses to let political circumstances diminish his creative prime. “In these beautiful years, while oh-my-God, I’ve never felt more stunning or alive or more fabulous, I don’t want them—these years—tainted,” he says passionately. “And I will keep these glorious years as pristine as I humanly can. That’s my mission throughout this devolution of America.”
The Value of Cabaret in a Digital Age
When asked why newcomers would enjoy his album, Smith offers an impassioned apology for the art form.
“Everybody loves cabaret, but not everyone knows what that is,” he says. “Listening to my record doesn’t mean making a reservation. You don’t have to jump through hoops planning to be somewhere, like, ‘Is there a friend I know who can come with me? I don’t want to go by myself.’ You can just put this album on all by yourself and be in one of the world’s best cabarets, Joe’s Pub, with one of the world’s most fame-ish international cabaret entertainers…any time you please!”
He reflects on the global reach of streaming, imagining listeners in unexpected places. “People listen to my music all over the place,” he marvels, “even in Russia!” “Imagine that: some quiet person with a queer heart could be listening from the remotest corner of the planet, and really getting something out of it, out of witnessing a really comfortable queer person in a room full of queer, straight, and allied love, laughing and joking and enjoying freedoms not available the world over.'”
This, to Smith, is cabaret’s enduring power—its ability to offer slivers of freedom and joy. “This album at least gives folks a little glimpse of what’s going on when people have the courage and the opportunity to gather with like-minded people and celebrate one another.”
Kim David Smith brings Mostly Marlene: a Dietrich-Drenched Album Debut! to Joe’s Pub at The Public Theater on Friday, March 21 at 9:30 PM. The album releases worldwide on the same day to all streaming platforms. Tickets are available here.
