We’ve all heard Gracie Abrams’ song “Risk.” That song, which was in and out of my (and everyone else’s head) for the better part of last year, was co-written by Abrams and her childhood best friend, Audrey Hobert. When I learned this, I was immediately intrigued by Hobert and her panache for writing. Since then, she has been on my radar for about a year. Then came her single, “Sue Me,” an uber-catchy song that will get stuck in your head before the second verse comes. Next came her second single, “Bowling Alley,” and I was hooked. Before dropping her debut album Who’s The Clown, singer-songwriter Audrey Hobert was best known for working with Gracie Abrams on her hit album The Secret of Us, writing on songs, namely “That’s So True” and “Risk,” both of which reached Billboard’s Hot 100 chart.
Hobert’s debut album “Who’s the Clown” was dropped on August 15, and since then, the sounds of Hobert’s catchy, hyperpop songs quickly filled my room, car, and mind.
Amongst the era of pop stars like Olivia, Chappell, Sabrina, and Taylor, Hobert feels a little more down to earth. Her humor shines through not in a shiny and buffed way, but in a real, “I’m writing this in my bedroom,” kind of way. Her songs always have a touch of humor and self-deprecation, which is why they’re so relatable and fun to listen to. Hobert’s lyrics feel like diary entries and secrets whispered to a friend, or in her case, an Uber driver. Unlike her pop peers, Hobert isn’t curating an image or a brand. And while I do buy into the curation—hook, line, and sinker—her music feels like a breath of fresh air.
It’s all in the title: clowns, as scary as they are, are the picture of awkwardness and innocence. Clowns lean into the discomfort, foolishness, and naiveté that come with being a human, especially a woman. Hobert’s music feels different than most of the pop that’s circling the zeitgeist right now. I’m tired of songs that make the singer feel otherworldly or distant from reality. Hobert’s music leans into the embarrassment and celebrates all the awkwardness of being a human. Hobert plays the clown, so we don’t have to.
Hobert’s song “Pheobe”, one of my favorites off the album, takes inspiration from Lisa Kudrow’s character in “Friends”, Phoebe Buffay. Hobert compares herself to the beloved icon, and the lyrics, “And in my darkest moment, I wonder if I met him out at a bar / If he’d seen me, a perfect star, wanna take me home for that / reason only,” offer a delightfully messy and honest introspective into feeling lonely and undesirable. It’s the duality of being told you’re a star and feeling unwanted. “Pheobe” is about faking it until you make it. It’s a messy and vulnerable tangle of emotions. This song hit me hard, in part because it has a killer sound, but also because it’s so honest. There’s something almost cathartic about listening to Hobert tell the entire world she feels unwanted. This song validates me, and every other person who has ever felt lonely, and honestly, it’s just what I needed.
Another must-listen is the final track of the album, “Silver Jubilee.” It’s a drinks-up, party girl anthem, and a pure celebration of being 25 with your best friends. Hobert sings, “I’ma live it up like my life starts now / Blink and you could miss it, it’s over, it’s alright.” It’s the perfect way to close out an album that highlights Hobert’s most vulnerable and messy moments by dancing it out.
As the clown, Hobert revels in the humiliation that comes with being human. Whether it’s the awkwardness of being at a party with people you hate or the excitement of celebrating with your friends, Hobert captures it all. Hobert’s gift for taking the small, innately human feelings and turning them into catchy pop songs is something I haven’t seen for a long time. “Who’s the Clown” isn’t just an album; it’s a message for embracing yourself and everything that comes along for the ride. We are all clowns inside, so it’s time to put on those headphones, turn on that music, and embrace the journey.