Audrey Hobert: The Unlikely Pop Star Bringing Slapstick to the Stage
Backstage at Huxleys Neue Welt in Berlin, Audrey Hobert, the 27-year-old pop sensation, eagerly showcases her dressing room. On her second trip outside the United States, the novelty of local snacks on her rider remains undimmed, though her excitement for chocolate thins is overshadowed by a peculiar sight. A comically overlong beige trenchcoat hangs on a rail, its excess fabric pooling on the floor like a puddle. Nearby, two sets of joke-shop Groucho Marx glasses rest on the dressing table, their original black brows and moustache replaced with orange fluff to match Hobert's vibrant strawberry blond hair. "Those glasses are not flattering," Hobert remarks with a laugh, adding that matching her hair to the giant plastic nose "makes it more flattering."
From Screenwriting to Songwriting: An Accidental Career
In a few hours, Hobert will kick off her set by standing on a ladder hidden beneath the trenchcoat, wearing the glasses, miming on a prop banjo, and singing I Like to Touch People, a peppy tune about charming strangers. After the song ends, the lights dim, Hobert climbs down, swaps to a regular-sized trenchcoat, and the lights return as if by magic—transforming high-budget pop stagecraft into playful slapstick. This jokey presentation might suggest a mere lark, but Hobert's pop career is anything but accidental. She had never written songs before moving in with her childhood best friend, pop superstar Gracie Abrams. A spontaneous collaboration led to six songs on Abrams' platinum-certified album The Secret of Us, described by Hobert as "complete kismet" and "the best time of my life." Witnessing those songs come to life in producer Aaron Dessner's studio inspired Hobert, a screenwriting graduate working on a Nickelodeon show, to pursue songwriting. "I'd never had this feeling before," she recalls.
Hobert tried session writing but disliked it, instead crafting songs she felt compelled to sing herself. Unlike the indie-pop melodramas she co-wrote with Abrams, Hobert's solo work is breezy yet lyrically dense and humorous, reminiscent of a lost Stephen Sondheim musical set to Y2K MTV sounds. "I'm always trying to best myself," she says of her addictive delivery. "I have a lot to say and I'm very rhythmic. I like flow. Taylor Swift, that bitch has flow." She signed with RCA for her debut album, Who's the Clown?, released last year, where she explores the absurdity of awkwardness and desire with sharp wit.
Cult Following and Intentional Artistry
Hobert's fandom is cultish, with fans on Reddit debating what to wear to her shows, and queues outside venues filled with young women in trenchcoats and bowling pins on their heads, referencing her song Bowling Alley. Despite signs pointing to her becoming the next big pop star, Hobert remains coolly pragmatic. "I feel lucky because I'm in my mid-20s and more fully developed than many when they start out," she notes, adding that she believes it should be illegal for 16-year-olds to pitch themselves as artists in label meetings. "I've always felt with this that I have nothing to lose because I only wanted this career recently."
Yet, she is exactingly intentional, describing herself as a "good-natured control freak" with a complete vision. "What I have been working towards my whole life is having a platform where I can express myself and inspire others," she explains. Growing up in Los Angeles with a screenwriter father who worked on shows like Scrubs, Hobert craved validation as a writer and admired figures like Lena Dunham. She moved to New York to study screenwriting, but the pandemic forced her to finish studies at home, leading to a suffocating period marked by trichotillomania, a hair-pulling disorder. "I was dealing with bald spots, living next to a freeway and wishing life would improve," she says. Moving in with Abrams felt like "I'd arrived."
Embracing Imperfection and Social Commentary
Hobert's songs often feature introverted protagonists trying to let life happen, countering stereotypes of the pandemic generation as phone-addled hermits. "The generalisation that people don't go out, don't talk to each other, is bullshit—and it's also not," she states, expressing existential worry for her peers. She curtails phone usage, preferring to "stare at the wall" as a better use of time. Despite social anxiety, she forces herself to conquer fears, believing growth comes from throwing oneself into hard situations. "How free are you gonna let yourself be? Doesn't matter who you are," she asserts.
Her music celebrates desire while disregarding conventional portrayals of desirability, from Groucho glasses to leggy dancing in self-directed videos. Online criticism calling her "weird" prompted her to leave social media, highlighting limited perceptions of femininity. "If I wanted to get in some sort of class that would show me how to be more polished, I could do that tomorrow," she says emphatically. "I have all of the resources, but it's not what I'm interested in in pop music right now." She theorises that some female pop stars prefer robotic perfection to avoid scathing online commentary, but Hobert values visceral, authentic performances.
Future Plans and Philosophical Outlook
As her tour hits the UK, Ireland, and beyond, Hobert grapples with growth on her own terms. "Sometimes I wonder if I need to get bigger at all, if that would make me happy," she muses. She plans to write in solitude after the tour, rejecting the "tortured artist" myth. "I have been working tooth and nail to tell myself that's not true, because I don't want to sabotage anything good in my life for the sake of my art." She aims to continue collaborating with Abrams and pursue screenwriting, believing success in music will enhance opportunities in film and TV.
Overall, Hobert maintains a lighthearted perspective. "I think a big engine of getting bigger comes from a worry that it's gonna go away or that people are gonna forget about you. And I feel OK with whatever happens," she concludes. "None of this feels very serious. I just try to exist and have as much fun as I possibly can. It's made this whole career, which can be very stressful and draining, very fun and exciting and not draining at all."
