Hilary Duff Luck…Or Something

Tracks: Weather for Tennis; Roommates; We Don't Talk; Future Tripping; Growing Up; The Optimist; You, from the Honeymoon; Holiday Party; Mature; Tell Me That Won't Happen; Adult Size Medium
Label: Atlantic Records

After more than a decade away from music, Hilary Duff returns with Luck…or Something, her first album since 2015’s Breathe In. Breathe Out... Produced by her husband, Matthew Koma, the record doesn’t aim for a glossy reinvention. Instead, it feels like a careful reckoning — with fame, adulthood, relationships and the quiet, complicated process of growing up in public.

Where Duff’s early work traded in fairytale optimism, Luck…or Something leans into emotional realism. The production still carries flashes of sunlit, early-2000s pop — buoyant hooks, polished synths, melodies that feel instantly familiar — but there’s a lived-in quality to both the songwriting and her delivery. She sounds grounded. The voice that once narrated teenage longing now moves through marriage, motherhood and self-doubt with steadier footing.

A central thread running through the album is the slow evolution of relationships. Rather than dramatising heartbreak, Duff focuses on subtler fractures: the distance that creeps in over time, the exhaustion of trying to revive something that has quietly faded, and the uneasy question of whether happiness is stable or fleeting. There’s a restraint to her writing that works in her favour; she resists melodrama, choosing clarity instead. The result is pop music that feels conversational but emotionally precise.

The album’s title hints at its deeper meditation. Duff has spoken about being asked how she managed to stay grounded after growing up in the spotlight, suggesting that while luck played a role, there’s more weight behind the “...or something.” That ambiguity defines the record. It explores gratitude alongside lingering wounds, forgiveness alongside frustration. Fame is never dissected explicitly, but its shadow lingers in songs that grapple with identity and expectation.

Sonically, the project is cohesive without feeling flat. Koma’s production allows space for Duff’s vocals to sit at the centre, whether over understated guitar lines or swelling synth textures. The dance-pop pulse that once defined her sound is still present, but it’s tempered by moments of quiet introspection. Even the brighter tracks carry emotional undercurrents — a signature Duff balance that makes the record feel both accessible and substantial.

The clear standout arrives in the album’s reflective centrepiece, a track that interpolates blink-182’s Dammit. It cleverly bridges Duff’s own coming-of-age era with that of her listeners, pairing wistful instrumentation with lyrics about evolving friendships and the inevitability of change. It’s nostalgic without being stuck in the past — a reminder that growth doesn’t erase who you were; it reframes it.

By the time the record closes, Duff isn’t chasing her former image or attempting to outpace time. She acknowledges it. Luck…or something feels less like a comeback and more like a continuation — an artist meeting her past self with tenderness instead of embarrassment. Nostalgia may draw listeners in, but it’s Duff’s maturity — thoughtful, imperfect and hard-earned — that makes the album resonate.