Review | A Night with Audrey Hobert at The Wiltern

“I guess you never know until you go and try it. What it’s like to be admired, hot and desired.” 

I took a memorable shower the day Audrey Hobert’s album Who’s the Clown? dropped. It’s where I gave the album its first listen, and where I got full body chills when I heard this lyric at the end of her song “Sex and the city.”

It was immaculately crafted, explicitly narrating the brain patterns of a girl who feels completely isolated from the people around her, perhaps even more alone than when she is, actually. It was at once scattered and reaching for too much at once, yet somehow still focused, following one train of thought until the end in a perfect circle. It jumped in and out of herself, following real and imagined dialogue, and felt both confident and devastatingly not so at the same time. 

I fell in love with the words, and in that instant, knew I’d be a fan of her writing for life. 

A few tracks later, “Phoebe” played, and Hobert sang some exact notions about her beauty and self worth that my friend had told me on a call long ago. I hopped out of the shower to text it to her, battling the water on my fingers and cursing myself for not taking (literally) one second to dry them before losing minutes deleting repeated “rrrrrrr”’s, to then accidentally adding even more letters instead. Eventually, the text was successfully sent.

This accuracy, for not only me but for one of the most important people in my life, is why I wasn’t surprised to see hundreds of fans lined up to see her second sold-out show. 

The first time she came to Los Angeles, resold tickets were listed in the hundreds, so I was very thankful to get a press pass this time around. 

A former television writer, singer-songwriter Audrey Hobert first gained widespread recognition for her co-writing credits on Gracie Abrams’s 2024 breakthrough The Secret of Us. You may have heard of Abrams’s song “That’s So True,” which was co-penned with Hobert (you can hear Hobert’s bubbling cadence and neurosis throughout the song). Hobert launched her solo career in 2025 with her debut album Who’s the Clown?, with a distinct mix of the raw, wordy lyricism on “That’s So True,” but this time, about her own life and brain.

Hobert started the show at the Wiltern in a gigantic trench coat (she’d later open it to reveal she was standing on top of a chair), singing, “I like to touch people.” From the very first word, the audience screamed along. She kept up the momentum with upbeat tracks like “Drive,” “Wet Hair,” and “Don’t go back to his ass.” “Don’t go back to his ass, that shit is a trap. It never lasts, so don’t go back to his ass,” she grinned as she flounced around the stage.

She then performed some of my personal favorites, “Sex and the city,” “Bowling alley,” and “Phoebe,” beautifully, with a fan blowing Hobert’s hair back as she confidently sang about self image, social anxiety, and relationships that ended in a disappointing kaput. “It’s a birthday party, these people aren’t my friends … I’d rather be lonely, counted out and homely.” Every word she writes feels important and intentional, and the crowd treated each song that way.

Toward the end of the evening, Hobert performed her hit “Sue me,” an upbeat ode to giving into your desires, even though you know it will probably end up hurting said person. Before the song began, she played a snippet of her brother Malcolm Todd (who rose to music fame a bit before she did) singing his song “Chest Pain” as the crowd clamored in excitement. Todd walked out, rolling a trampoline to the center of the stage, as Hobert followed suit. The siblings performed the song together, complete with trampoline jumping in unison and endearing choreography. 

Hobert played the song one more time, and asked for the audience to put away their phones. “Not that it matters, but I’m breaking patterns … are you depressed or are you feeling better? ‘Cause you’re looking like it’s the latter … I’ve been so careful with you, babe, but your line’s bait.”

It’s hard to explain, but it was unlike anything else, hearing hundreds of people scream the inner thoughts I’ve felt the need to hide my entire life, thoughts I really didn’t think anyone shared. 

The feeling of having your insides be on the outside, covered in joy.