Recently, my dear friend introduced me to the genius of Audrey Hobert, a singer-songwriter who put out her first album, “Who’s the Clown?,” on Aug. 15, 2025. Her indie-pop sound is perfect for the soundtrack to a young 20-something’s life, and her relatable lyrics verbalize every girl’s inner monologue. To put it simply, she is a girl who gets it.
Hobert has been surrounded by music for years. She is best friends with singer-songwriter Gracie Abrams and the two collaborated on Abrams’ last album, “The Secret of Us,” writing multiple songs, including “Risk” and “That’s So True.” Plus, Hobert’s brother is fellow indie-pop singer-songwriter Malcolm Todd, known for songs like “Sweet Boy” and “Roommates.”
Reminiscent of a girl sitting in her room, writing in her diary, “Who’s the Clown?” is filled with catchy songs that you cannot help but belt in your car. Her conversational lyrics mimic a FaceTime call with your best friend, and I have found myself giggling at quite a few lines in her songs.
Hobert’s debut album has two main focuses: insecurities and relationships. Throughout, she also sprinkles quippy, relatable remarks — all of which I am confident have crossed my mind — about figuring herself out.
In the song “Phoebe,” an ode to the iconic TV show “Friends,” Hobert discusses feeling less than pretty her entire life. In the lyrics, Hobert wonders, “‘Cause why else would you want me?” as she reckons with how it feels to be rejected by someone only interested in her for her looks. She wrestles back and forth with these feelings of unworthiness, judging her appearance based on how attractive she feels.
I hate to say that I have felt the same way, and I usually feel compelled to hide these thoughts out of shame. However, hearing Hobert sing about these feelings affirms to me that many other women have had to overcome the same battle. Instead of shying away from these feelings, she has helped me realize that they are normal and can be worked through like anything else.
Hobert ends “Phoebe” in a hopeful conclusion, singing, “And who cares if I’m pretty? / I feel like I’m Phoebe.” She let go of her physical insecurities, realizing they really do not matter, and has taken on a carefree demeanor similar to the titular character, Phoebe.
Beyond physical insecurities, Hobert goes into detail about feeling that her personality is not enough, either. In “Thirst Trap,” Hobert fears that, after the end of a relationship, she has become obsessed with her appearance and, therefore, boring.
Hobert sings, “I used to kick back, watchin’ movies and the news / But now I’m lame, it’s such a shame, I used to be so super cool.” Where she once spent her time on her hobbies, she now spends it on “takin’ thirst traps.” In lines like “Look at what I post and then pretend I’m you” and “Now all I ever think’s ‘would you date me?’” Hobert realizes that her thoughts have been overtaken by this failed relationship, as she sees herself only through his lens.
Outdated patriarchal norms teach women that we need to be attractive and that our desirability is our best quality. That thought, especially for an insecure teenager, can become all-consuming and completely change how you see yourself. For me, I was always wondering if I looked ugly, if my interests were weird or if I was being awkward in conversation. Everything became a matter of how the men around me were perceiving me. I have grown a lot since then; however, it was still validating to hear another woman confronting similar feelings.
While a good portion of the album is about these insecurities, it dives into relationships, as well. From delusions to dating, Hobert has experienced it all. In the song “Shooting Star,” Hobert sings about the classic struggle of wearing rose-colored glasses. In relatable lines like “Girl, that’s not a shooting star / (I’m sorry, my bad, I thought that it was),” Hobert relays the experience of seeing past a man’s red flags, then being brought back down to Earth by your friends.
Hobert’s silly, conversational lyrics take on the tone of a best friend who would never judge your mistakes because she has made the same ones. In lines like “Sue me, I wanna be wanted,” from the debut single “Sue Me,” Hobert sings about wanting to go back to an ex simply because it feels good to be desired.
In “Wet Hair,” Hobert tells the story of meeting up with her ex again — a choice many of us would make, even if our friends tell us not to. The song is filled with lines that I know I have thought, such as “And you’re taller than I can recall / Like, when did you get so tall?” Seeing an ex is usually a horrible decision that I would feel guilty about for weeks, yet because Hobert sings about it in such a flippant manner, I feel more at ease.
The entire album encapsulates this at-ease feeling. She discusses deep emotions, debilitating insecurities and failed relationships, but does so in such a silly, lighthearted way that all of these feel easier to deal with. Instead of feeling bummed out and down about myself, I have fun listening to her album.
Hobert’s music is validating because I have felt ashamed overthinking my appearance and worrying about my insecurities or desirability. Not only does Hobert reassure me that many other women think this way, she broadcasts it to the world unabashedly. I take comfort in knowing that I am not the only person having these thoughts.
Drop everything you are doing and give Audrey Hobert’s “Who’s the Clown?” a listen as soon as you can — you may just find a new favorite artist, or a new way to process your past, like I did.