By Emily Robbins
Listen to her new album here.
Audrey Hobert is your dorky, awkward-yet-fearless alter ego come to life. She spells out every guilty thought and messy life experience without frill or flair, just plainly what it is. She tells you to embrace it, because who the hell cares? “It’s just who I am, and they can’t get enough.”
Her brand-new album that came out on the 15th August, Who’s the Clown? is a collection of chaotic diary confessions blurted out. It’s like when your friend vents to you without a filter. It’s that moment at a party when there’s an awkward silence, so someone says something incredibly personal and random, summoning side eyes from the listeners. Every line feels like she’s about to come out and say she’s joking, but isn’t.
Her single ‘Bowling alley’ is incredibly clever and relatable. It takes me back to being 14 and shy, but also unashamedly feeling like you’re the most important person in the room. It’s for the girls whose social battery runs out quickly, and so they leave early and smile to themselves back in their pyjamas. It’s hard to think of another song that explores these specific feelings, or the guilty pleasure of making “thirst traps in the mirror in my room”.
‘Shooting star’ stands out as genius. Illustrating Audrey metaphorically drop-kicking a man and then correcting someone because, “girl, that’s not a shooting star”. It’s the epitome of warning your friends off men who are bad news, or mistaking fated signs onto people just because you like them. She ties it up into an image we can laugh light-heartedly about.
Her tone isn’t serious. It feels mocking, and yet she’s being truthful. It’s said in such a light way with a blatancy that allows people to feel comfortable in their mess and own it.
I’d describe Audrey’s brand as a representation of a normal, seemingly uncool person you’d pass on the street, but who deep down has built a kind of careless confident attitude that only comes after years of battling insecurity – something a lot of people can relate to, and she addresses directly in her song ‘Phoebe’. Her music videos show her doing goofy dances in her bedroom, wearing ‘unfashionable’ outfits with stark colours that do not align with trends or the ‘pop-star’ glamour. And that’s the point – it’s not supposed to look cute. They encapsulate the art of being messy and owning it.
‘Chateau’ is the perfect song for this. It offers us a glimpse into the glitz and glam of the fame world and her observation of it all. It’s interesting to view the world of stardom through the lens of a person who doesn’t actually care about being with “the whole A list”. It isn’t said in a pick-me way to get on the side of the public. It’s more like someone who’s suddenly entered this world and is unsure what the point of it all is, that she’d prefer to just be back in her normal life.
Audrey previously co-wrote songs for other artists, including ‘Risk’ with her childhood friend Gracie Abrams. A video of them singing ‘That’s so true’ at one of Gracie’s concerts blew up, and shortly after, Audrey began teasing music of her own.
She’s like a fan making music for the fans. And that’s not a dig at her talent or ability – I believe her songs are some of the most clever, addicting and fun I’ve ever heard – It’s a testament to knowing her audience, and what people need to hear – then not beating it around the bush with too much poetic lyricism.
In ‘Sex in the city’ Audrey disappointingly compares her life to that of the famous tv series, except for her, “Nobody sees me and knows of my column”. It perfectly encapsulates the plummeting expectations of being “admired, hot and desired”, and giving time to people who never really cared or deserved you.
‘Phoebe’ is a masterpiece. A perfect song about finally getting around to watching the hit show Friends and how, as a lonely single girl, you feel held by characters like Joey, and relate to warm quirky characters like Phoebe – “Who cares if I’m pretty, I feel like I’m Phoebe, I feel like a whole lot”. It’s about not fitting in society, in the fashion scene (“I feel like it totally works when the blue in my skirt doesn’t work with the blue in my top”), and in friend groups (“I’d rather be lonely, counted out and homey”). The song begins with a slow tempo as she sets the scene about moving to New York, because someone told her she’d rather be a star than have guys not like her back. Then the tempo picks up a bit and she begins to ramble, “but it’s okay cause…”, and it feels like the moment you share too much in a conversation and then rebound to the good parts of your life to pull yourself out of a wallowing hole. It encapsulates one of the central themes of the album – not fitting in.
She summed this up perfectly in her interview with iHeartRadiowhen she said, “My greatest hope is to make people happy and make people feel free to be themselves, just by watching me feel so free to be myself.”
Her album is a gift wrapped in a bow for single young adults who’ve moved away from home, go to the bar, and have a bunch of embarrassing stories about boys they shouldn’t have been with. It’s for anyone who feels like they stick out from the crowd and have to own it.
And it all ends in the ‘oh well’ celebratory anthem of ‘Silver Jubilee’, which sits in the middle of all of the mess and imperfect feelings but allows you to move on and chuck them away for the night. Nothing is fixed and nothing changes, but it’s about the time you uplift yourself and put your drinks up.
