Los Angeles-based alternative-pop singer-songwriter Audrey Hobert’s debut, Who’s the Clown?, is a success. The album offers a complete and humorous portrait of navigating insecurity and dating culture and is full of quirky anthems rife with delightfully horny lyrics. Her smartly-written, vivid and humorous storytelling allows her songs’ punchy rhythms to shine, setting her apart.
Luckily, Hobert is bringing her unique songwriting talents and personality to Chicago this summer, playing a Lollapalooza Aftershow at Thalia Hall July 29 and the festival itself the next day. And because the strength of her debut album proves she’s poised to become the next big thing, you’ll want to catch her while you can.
Hobert is no stranger to the entertainment industry. After graduating from NYU Tisch, she started out writing for Nickelodeon, following in the footsteps of her father, who writes for sitcoms like Scrubs and The Middle. Hobert transitioned to music via songwriting; she co-wrote some of her close friend Gracie Abrams’ biggest hits including “That’s So True” and “I Love You, I’m Sorry.” Her brother, singer Malcom Todd, is an indie-pop darling in his own right, garnering 18.4 million monthly listeners on Spotify as of April and even headlining Northwestern’s own Dillo Day in May.
“Who’s the Clown?,” released Aug. 15, 2025 through RCA Records, is a compelling pop debut, proving Hobert really was born for this. Her songs feel like diary entries scribbled in a notebook before bed, then torn out and taken to a recording studio. This confessional writing style reads as refreshingly honest and uniquely human, in an era when true creativity is threatened by the newest AI slop. Hobert’s smart songwriting helps her stand out; she doesn’t fall victim to the cliches that come along with understanding love or a breakup for the first time.
Hobert’s refreshing lack of decorum in her lyrics is one of her greatest strengths. The album’s opening track “I like to touch people” leaves no room for interpretation, as Hobert describes her passion for reaching people, both emotionally and physically. Unafraid to portray herself as insecure, Hobert’s abject honesty permeates through the album’s 12 songs, her playful humor shining through.
The album is at its best, lyrically and sonically, with “Thirst Trap,” as Hobert describes the unique way that an all-consuming crush can decimate one’s sense of self. Lyrics like “I’m sick and twisted and boring / But all yours so let me adore you” offer a refreshing dose of blunt, often unsophisticated, horniness. Hobert’s unashamed attitude towards participating in hookup culture destigmatizes casual sex, and the song continues to subvert expectations as it builds to the bridge, ending in a cathartic saxophone solo before the song’s outro.
An integral part of Hobert’s songwriting wit is her cultural awareness. Her embarrassing yet endearing stream-of-consciousness rants about relationships seem to level up many of the ideas that Abrams initiates on “The Secret of Us.” Songs like “Phoebe,” a reference to the Friends character of the same name, and “Sex and the city,” show that Hobert understands the ideas that her songs build upon, as she joins the well-documented lineage of quirky blondes looking for love in a big city. “Sex and the city,” also shows Hobert’s knack for writing quick, punchy and interesting rhythms, even in her ballads.
The album also positions itself as quintessentially modern Los Angeles, as she decries rubbing shoulders with “the whole A-list” in “Chateau,” asking, “are we legally bound to stand in this circle lookin’ around?” There’s nothing more Los Angeles than a beauty standard so narrow that a skinny, tall, blonde, white woman feels she can’t ever measure up. Young women deserve a role model like Hobert, one who is unafraid to be vulnerable about her insecurities or flaws, rather than the litany of photoshopped and Instagram-famous celebrities without buccal fat.
Even though the album lacks truly impressive vocals, with Hobert’s clear-toned alto talk-singing somewhat reminiscent of Taylor Swift’s early forays into pop, the album doesn’t need it. Hobert isn’t trying to compete with the vocal prowess of rising pop sensations Raye or Olivia Dean, as her songwriting far outpaces them. By bringing her witty songwriting to the forefront, Hobert creates a masterful yet humorous pop debut, a worthwhile addition to the modern singer-songwriter lexicon. You should be sure to catch her while she’s in Chicago to witness it in-person.
