Mimi Webb is the real-life Hannah Montana. This isn’t to say that the 25-year-old lives a double life with a secret identity and a blonde wig stashed away in her closet (although the wig did make its appearances), but she always knew she was destined to be a pop star.

Let’s go back to the 2000s, where tinsel adorned little girls’ hair and every afternoon was an invitation to escape into the wonderfully awkward world of tween drama shows. In the heart of the Kent countryside, a young equestrian named Ameilia would leave her muddied boots by the door and slip on a red wig, grabbing her bedazzled toy mic, and, with rose-colored glasses resting gently on her nose and a sleek fringe atop her head, serenade her parents with impromptu performances in the living room. She would belt to Adele, preferably “Chasing Pavements,” and would strut around like the foyer was her stage.

“My dad always said I was a star already, strutting around like—,” Webb starts, and wordlessly snaps her fingers to finish the thought. We are speaking over Zoom, the warm light of her London evening filtering through the window behind her. Her auburn hair sits delicately on her shoulders, and her voice hums with energy as she discusses the ins and outs of her spontaneous childhood performances. It was in those fleeting moments so early in her life that Webb began to separate herself from “Amelia,” instead looking toward the shadow of her future self and artist, Mimi—dancing around her childhood home, unaware that in ten years' time, she would become the very artist she had dreamed of becoming.

From that early spark, music served as an invisible string that wove together disparate parts of Webb’s life. At the age of 13, she learned to play both guitar and piano and began to write her own songs. At 16, she moved to Brighton and attended Brighton Music College, where she deepened her understanding of harmony and music theory, kindling an even stronger love for the art. Yet, even in the whirlwind of passion, came uncertainty.

“When I was 16, everything about becoming an artist was all so new. I didn’t know where to begin,” she says, her hands reflexively tucking towards her heart. “But music, when it came into my life, was kind of my way of communicating and having just a kind of freedom within that. So I put myself out there. I was a teenager trying to access record labels. Trying to get them to know my voice.” And soon, they did.

By 18, following an arduous journey fueled by song, spunk, and an unwavering passion for singing, she left for Los Angeles and signed with Epic Records. Since then, her once-fringe-worn, eagerly plucky living room performances have echoed beyond the Kent countryside, stretching far onto many of the world's various stages. She’s watched her breakout single “Good Without" peak at number 8 on the UK Charts, opened for Tate McRae on her 2022 tour, performed at the Platinum Party at the Palace in honor of Queen Elizabeth II, earned a BRIT Award nomination for “Best New Artist,” and headlined her own North American tour in 2023. Now, she stands on the cusp of a new chapter with the release of her second album, Confessions, kickstarted by the release of several singles, most recently “Narcissist.”

But if one were to ask Webb if her measure of success comes in chart positions or sold-out shows, she would say no. In fact, her success has always been an afterthought—secondary to the feeling of being an artist. All she’s ever wanted was the chance to sing, to be heard, and to find connection between herself and her audience.

There’s this Swedish idiom: Those who sing always find a song. It’s trivial—the kind of quote that can apply to any single person who hums even the quietest of tunes. But for Webb, it’s been quite the opposite. Song has always found her.

“I used to get this feeling when I'd listen to songs, like this goosebumps feeling. I wouldn't stop thinking about that all day,” she shares. She recalls how much she admired Adele for sparking that kind of emotion in her from such a young age. “It was like an overwhelming sensation of pure happiness and joy. It followed me everywhere. I wanted to be able to provide that to other people.”

That same instinct, the aching pursuit of something honest and entirely human, now threads its way through Confessions. There’s the raging, sharp-edged confidence of “Love Language” and the slow-burning, full-bodied inner clarity of “You Don’t Look At Me The Same.” Chords linger and layered beats echo like a hypnotic whisper of all the quiet truths of love, identity, and coming unto your own that she’s finally embracing. The songs unfold like pages in Webb’s journal—where, in those early hours when she’s on her own, she processes “all the guilt and regret that I’m feeling. [The diary is where] I try to learn what happiness really means again."

It's our very own glimpse into the mind and soul of Mimi Webb, unfiltered and vulnerable in all its pop glory. The sounds of Confessions break through the glossy rhythm and droning pulses of her last album, Amelia. At its heart, the album centers on agency, healing, and breaking free from expectations. This cathartic release, filled with synth-soaked melody, draws you deeper into her stories of intimacy and identity with every note. It's perhaps her most vulnerable album yet: “Creating music around that feeling is just the most therapeutic feeling ever,” she says with a grin.

In the final episode of Hannah Montana, Miley Stewart, who has long navigated the duality of ordinary life and pop stardom, faces the crossroads of revealing her identity to the world or risking losing herself entirely to the masked glamour of Hannah. After years of hiding behind the wig, she finally removes it, bidding a bittersweet farewell to the girl she once was and embracing the authenticity of the artist she’s always aspired to be.

Much like the final convergence of Miley Stewart, Confessions serves as Webb’s unmasking. She spent years separating Mimi from Amelia—the singer of the future entirely separate from the girl of the past.

“I started to listen to other people, thinking they know best. I completely ignored my gut instincts... I didn't know who I was anymore. Then, one day, I knew I had to take control and take this in my own hands. I had to put more intention behind this album.”

I wonder which story she feels ready to tell. She takes a beat, perceptibly overwhelmed by the question, then shares: “This album is like the perfect chaos. It’s a real moment with myself. I'm finally looking in the mirror and I’m putting my cards on the table, and I'm just being super open on how things feel. I’m no longer sugar coating things. This is me being honest.”

In this moment, it feels like Webb is returning to instinct. Where she once lived as a version of herself in the future, Confessions sees Webb returning to the version of herself that would run around her living room singing Adele whilst wearing oversized shades and tinsel.

She’s relishing those “in betweens” in song where she feels most connected and embracing the warmth of the spotlight as she sings her honest truth to a crowd yearning for the same. She’s choosing herself. She’s choosing love. She’s choosing to be seen.

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