Matt Friend commands attention. A facile talker with a resonant bass timbre and the energy of a small nuclear reactor, the 27-year-old Chicago-raised comedian is a charmingly formidable presence. It doesn’t hurt that he’s 6-foot-4 and a snappy dresser. Also, he was deemed “sexy” by none other than People magazine, so there’s that.

After he began doing standup while attending New York University, Friend’s career grew in fits and starts, but lately it’s been by leaps and bounds, thanks to his spot-on impressions. Videos of him imitating famous people to their faces — primarily on the street and on the red carpet — have been a hit on social media. Most of the celebrities seem delighted. (Bill Maher, not so much.) Friend’s ever-expanding arsenal of voices includes those of Donald Trump, Barack Obama, Jeff Goldblum, Stanley Tucci, Nicolas Cage, Jennifer Coolidge, Paul Giamatti, and hundreds of others.

Though he now resides in New York, the Francis W. Parker School grad chatted with Chicago while back in town recently. (His parents still live in Lincoln Park.) He joked: “I can picture the article: ‘We sat in the crowded restaurant. As Friend became different voices, I wondered, Can he ever be himself?’ ”

The answer? “Yes, I can.” But it’s more fun being someone else.

You’re an old soul in a young body. How did that come to be?

I watched Austin Powers when I was 4 years old. That’s the movie that got me obsessed with comedy. And I remember reading Judd Apatow’s book; he would go to the library [to look up articles on old comedians]. I had YouTube, and I somehow discovered Ed Sullivan and Jackie Mason. I remember wanting to dress up like the Beatles and sing “Love Me Do,” which is normal for someone born in 1998. Then I would recreate Elvis singing. For whatever reason, I was very drawn to impressions. And I’m not a nepo baby, but my dad’s roommate in college at Tufts was Hank Azaria [who performs multiple voices on The Simpsons], so that was a big inspiration.

How do you go about formulating an impression? What’s the process?

I watch a lot of movies. I watch a lot of shows. I listen to interviews. And then suddenly I just start to hear the voice — it’s kind of buzzing in my head. I don’t really think about it as a process. Like Don Rickles said, “Comedy is a personality.” So much of this is just what I’ve already been doing. I’ll walk down the street as King Charles and go [in a stuffy English accent], “Oh my God, it’s so great. Skies are blue. The birds are chirping. I wonder what Camilla’s tits look like today.”

Are there always voices in your head?

Always. It doesn’t turn off. I’m always thinking, Where’s the bit in this? And there’s always people to add. There’s a Chicago pope. I’m not going to take that and run with it? He’s the first American virgin to win an election since Cory Booker. I’m kidding, Cory.

Your initial goal was to get on Saturday Night Live. Has your success changed that?

I mean, if they came to me and were like, “We want you to do it,” that would obviously be amazing. But if I spend too much time worrying about the acceptance of these institutions, that’ll take time away from what I’m able to create. I’m very focused on making content, creating opportunities for myself. The reality is, I’m doing things now that you used to have to be on that show to be able to do.

When Johnny Carson was a kid, he was very into magic. His parents both encouraged and were annoyed by it. Was it the same for you with impressions?

If only he could have mastered the magic of a prenup: “Here’s a trick: I’m going to make my net worth disappear.” No, my parents fully nurtured it. I know about the complicated relationship that Carson had with his mother. My mother drove me to this interview. I’m not even kidding. Enormously supportive.

But she would give you a look if you said something out of line as a kid?

Yeah, she would give me these signals at the dinner table, like eyes wide open or shaking her head, when I’d say something precocious like, “My uncle’s looking fatter today. Do you really need dessert?” — trying to do a Rickles or something. I’m the youngest of three, so I think at a certain point, my parents were like, “Fuck it, he’ll be fine. He’ll figure it out.”

You’re not a political comic, but there’s a political element to your impressions.

The impressions, the observations, the political jokes. But you can’t come to my show and tell me that I’m doing just one side, because I’m not.

Not long ago you had a MAGA heckler at one of your shows. What happened?

 I was about to go onstage, and the manager of this place was like, “There’s someone suspicious here.” Just what you want to hear before you go onstage. And then this guy in a MAGA hat and a sparkly jacket — which was a great contradiction, because his outfit was so queer that even George Santos wouldn’t put it on — starts to get closer to the stage, and he’s popping pills. I joke that he’s doing more drugs than Hunter Biden and Don Jr. combined. He’s starting to flip me off. And then he’s reaching into his pocket. I’m like, What’s he going to take out? And then it escalated to the point where he was kind of yelling. We had to remove him. I joked that we found out the man’s name later: It was Pete Hegseth.

When you were standing next to Obama doing Obama, were you nervous?

It was so crazy. I’m in this hotel, and you would not know he was there — it was very low-key. I go up eight floors. Then you’re starting to see the security. I’m in this little waiting room with two other creators who were going to interview him. I was last. I walk into the room, and he goes [in Obama’s voice], “Matt, how are you? It is good to see you. Come on in here. I love your videos. Michelle likes them, too.” And I’m freaking out. I did all of his greatest hits. I memorized his 2012 acceptance speech at McCormick Place. I was there. “Tonight, more than 200 years after a former colony won the right to determine its own destiny …” I just keep going, and he’s like, Holy shit. Then I sang “Amazing Grace” and made fun of when he made a jump shot and went, “That’s what I do!” He was dying. I also debated him as Trump, and then I took out my Mitch McConnell glasses. He goes, “You got to put those away. That is giving me PTSD.”

Hank Azaria and John Stamos are two of your mentors. What have they told you?

My dad, too. And [Harvey] Weinstein, but we don’t talk about that. When I told Hank while in college that I was thinking about doing this, he was like, “Do a play, and start to write your own [material].” General advice. But I don’t think he anticipated what would happen and how quickly. I think he figured it would take some time. And it still will: I have big things I want to do. Now the advice is shifting to managing other things, like recognizability and navigating agents and managers. This is not a normal business. We’re creating our own path here. But having him to bounce thoughts off of is a very powerful thing. With Stamos, we met during the pandemic. He followed me on TikTok and we started to exchange [messages]. I think he liked my vibe. Maybe it was a little Bob Saget–esque, I don’t know. But then John invited me over to his house. We played music and [talked] comedy and were just instantly connecting.

You’ve had help from people, but you are also making a lot of your own luck.

I’m hustling. And I’m a product of my generation. I’m not going to lose that organic social media direct-to-fan connection. That’s the basis. And now I’m touring, I’m shaking hands with people, I’m kissing babies. Not really. But it’s like I’m running for election. I really value meeting people one on one. I’m lucky to have people starting to figure out who I am and what I can do. But I feel like a lot of what I can do hasn’t even been seen yet.