2000’s kids and millennial queers, rejoice! Hilary Duff has returned.
Hilary Duff is many things. She is Lizzie McGuire. She’s the face of A Cinderella Story. She cemented her queer allyship with a 2008 ad. She’s written a series of young-adult novels. She’s an entrepreneur, with fragrances and clothing lines as far as the eye can see. And now she’s back from a 10-year hiatus and a record label change with her sixth studio album, luck… or something.
In a collaboration with her husband, producer Matthew Koma, Duff’s album is an exploration of her past decade: career choices, relationship breakups, and other emotional upheavals aren’t really themes you’d find on Lizzie McGuire. But they’re very welcome here, as most of her fanbase has grown and dealt with similar choices of their own. Combine those motifs with some nostalgic pop production, and you’ve got yourself a smash hit… or something.
In my review of Cavetown’s Running With Scissors, I mentioned that I felt the artist felt stuck in 2015 Tumblr speak. I have absolutely no concerns with Duff in that department. Long gone are the days of “Come Clean” and “Why Not” (millennial classics, mind you). Now we’re making way for “We Don’t Talk,” “You, from the Honeymoon,” and the aptly titled “Growing Up.” Duff’s new album is refreshingly light and fun. It’s incredibly easy to listen to, with some great winks along the way.
The production of the album is soaked to the bone in nostalgia, but it’s closer to the blend one might expect from the 2010s. It feels more aligned with the likes of early Taylor Swift, or even Carly Rae Jepsen. But it doesn’t come across as a parody of those styles. It feels in conversation with the popular music of today, while also gently bringing us back to a bygone era. Although to think of the 2010s as bygone feels ludicrous.
The lyrics, as I mentioned before, are in lockstep with Duff’s audience. “Weather for Tennis” is a sassy back-and-forth about repetitive arguments that had my partner bopping along from across the room (“If you let me finish a sentence / and then we can bump our heads and drink some wine”). “Roommates” has the same rhythm and key as “Blank Space” by Taylor Swift, but with more introspection and NSFW regret baked in (“I only want the beginning, I don’t want the end / Want the part where you say, ‘Goddamn’”). “Mature” includes the most millennial lyric since T-Swift used “girlboss” in her song “CANCELLED!” except I much prefer Duff’s wit (“She’s me, I’m her in a different font”).
Duff’s lyrics don’t patronize her audience, nor do they over-rely on sentimental attachment to her teeny-bopper origins. If anything, she lets the music speak to that.
luck… or something is a fluffy little package that sticks nicely in your brain. Duff manages to stay perfectly pop without sacrificing maturity. She is a woman in her late 30s, after all. It only makes sense that she writes what she knows. And we ‘90s babies are more than happy to tune in, right after we finish scream-singing “What Dreams Are Made Of.”
Listen to luck… or something wherever you get your music.
