Hilary Duff was my first favorite artist. For my 7th birthday, I received two gifts that would change my life forever: a large Sony CD player & stereo system (specifically, this one), and Hilary Duff's proper debut studio album, Metamorphosis. While I would occasionally switch over to AM radio and tune in to Radio Disney or listen to Boston's finest grumble angrily about the Red Sox, 90% of the time I had Metamorphosis locked and loaded, blasting for all of Main Street to hear. I spent hours upon hours singing along as I flipped through the lyric booklet, learning every word; I performed "So Yesterday" at my school assembly, attempting to recruit every girl in my class to join me and help alleviate my stage fright. For the first time, I had an easy go-to answer of who my favorite singer was. When I saw Hilary at my first ever concert a year later, I was forever changed. While I thought at the time I had a crush (LOL), I now with the powers of hindsight and homosexuality know I was a full-blown stan.
I specify that Hilary was my first favorite artist because, unfortunately, she has not been my only one. I equally loved her jagged 2004 self-titled record, and made the case to my mom that 2005's Most Wanted compilation was a worthwhile purchase, even though I already owned three-quarters of its track list elsewhere. But as I aged, I felt more pressure from peers to leave behind the fun, Disney-centric, and frankly "girly" sounds that Duff embodied. By the time 2007 rolled around, I skipped Dignity entirely, as I had traded in my pop diva love for another gift-driven musical obsession: the Guitar Hero III soundtrack. The gigabytes I owned on my mom's iPod Nano per our shared custody agreement were now dedicated to the likes of Weezer, Rise Against, and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Soon after, I picked up playing drums and entered the angsty hormonal throes of puberty. Rock had fully taken over.
At the same time, I was beginning to question my sexuality and who I was; in an ill-fated effort to outrun the inevitable, I distanced myself further from anything at all that I thought could mark me as gay. Not only was I not listening to Hilary Duff anymore, I was too embarrassed to admit I had ever been a fan. I thought if I just listened to more and more hard rock and leaned further into masculinity (or, rather, what a teen at an all-boys school in the early 2010s thought masculinity was supposed to be), I could shake these thoughts and feelings, and just go back to feeling... normal.
Of course, that didn't happen (thank GOD, could you imagine??), and as I came to finally accept myself I eventually opened myself back up to pop music. When I graduated high school and went to an extremely queer-friendly college starting in 2015, the floodgates opened: I embraced the likes Ariana and Beyonce, knelt at the altars of Gaga and Charli, and even ended up writing my undergraduate thesis on Carly Rae Jepsen. Still, for some reason, Hilary Duff didn't quite made it back into the fold yet other than the occasional nostalgia trip - perhaps the lingering music snob in me didn't see the value in returning to my Disney-approved roots.
Well, thankfully, I eventually beat the crap out of that lingering snob and kicked him to the curb, realizing how stupid it is to shy away from any music that brings you joy. A few years ago I finally dove back into Hilary's music, revisiting the classics and discovering gems for the first time on Dignity and 2015's Breathe In. Breathe Out. Still, by then Hilary had mostly moved away from music, instead spending her time acting in main television roles on Younger and How I Met Your Father, while also raising four children.
So late last year when Hilary announced a forthcoming album, lead single "Mature," and her first batch of live shows since 2008, I was all-in. What I was surprised to find out, however, was how many others were also all in. I hadn't realized that after all this time, Hilary Duff had maintained a strong cult following, mostly made up of queer men around my age. The "gay icon" status can be a bit elusive - go ask Bebe Rexha or Rita Ora how it's working out for them - but Hilary Duff has certainly attained that status.
Of course, it makes a lot of sense when you think about it. Most obviously, her legendary 2008 PSA for the Think Before You Speak campaign had her take a stand against homophobia (and, maybe more importantly, against girls wearing a skirt as a top). This was a bold statement for anyone to make in that era, given the overwhelmingly common use of "gay" as a synonym for "bad" in American culture at the time, but particularly for someone who came from the Disney pipeline. It's an enduring part of Duff's legacy and a signature moment of the era's fight for LGBTQ+ rights, and the queer community has always appreciated it. We love her to this day because she was there for us in the beginning.
That said, I think Hilary's specific appeal to gay men goes well beyond the PSA. Musically and personality-wise, Duff has always had a warmth and softness to her, mixed with a dash of spunk and sass. A lot of her songs could be interpreted through a queer subtextual lens: "Metamorphosis" about the process of changing and realizing something about yourself; "Why Not" about taking a risk such as coming out of the closet; "Come Clean" about... well, you can fill in the blanks there. "Fly" even literally has the lyric, "open up the part of you that wants to hide away," which I wouldn't even call subtextual. Moreover, us gays LOVE a bit of camp, and the fact that Hilary isn't the world's most naturally gifted vocalist plays into that perfectly.
I think there's also a larger cultural/contextual reason why Hilary is so important to so many queer men - particularly those who grew up in religious households. In the early 2000s, especially in the aftermath of 9/11 and the moral panics that swept across America in its wake, there was a lot of pushback to any pop culture artifacts that were deemed too sexy and/or not patriotic enough. You may have known kids growing up who weren't allowed to watch SpongeBob; in that same vein, many households banned a wide range of the day's pop stars. For kids in households that weren't allowed access to Britney or Xtina or Avril, there weren't a ton of options. But the clean-cut, Disney-approved, Texas-raised Hilary Duff was usually an exception, a safe option for parents who wouldn't have to worry about her repeating the Janet Jackson Super Bowl Halftime Show disaster. (I should note here that while my parents were by no means keeping secular music out of the household, my church certainly was certainly encouraging it, and that sense of guilt imprinted on me and steered me away from many of that era's biggest names.) For little millennial gay boys like myself who were desperate for an outlet for their still-developing inner diva, Hilary was a godsend.
I've learned that I'm not the only one whose first favorite artist was Ms. Duff - in fact, judging by the outlandish ticket queues for her first run of four shows, it seems practically every gay guy aged 28-35 feels the same way as I do. While I did not manage to get tickets to any of those concerts (check out my friend Blake's vlog of her London show, and throw him a follow while you're at it), luck... or something quickly became my most-anticipated album release of 2026. With the album now finally out, and my over-the-top preamble finished at long last, I'm excited to say that luck... or something has met and even exceeded my hopes for what a new Hilary Duff album would sound like.
Things got off to a promising start with lead single "Mature," an appropriately-titled comeback song that sits comfortably within Hilary's wheelhouse while still showing this is a new evolution. It's a cheeky, biting track targeted at an ex (likely either Joel Madden or Jason Walsh) who she witnesses using the same manipulation tactics on his new "younger" and "blonder" love interest that he used on Hilary. While the narrative is aimed at Hilary's ex, "Mature" actually feels like Duff's desperate attempt to warn this new girl to not fall into the same trap. Reverberant drums and a perky bass line combine for a playful energy that helps keep the song light without evacuating its emotional impact.
While "Mature" was impressive, second single "Roommates" is where it became clear that luck... or something would be a contender for Hilary's best album yet. Propelled by a muffled drum beat, Duff dives right in, mourning the loss of intimacy in her relationship. "Physical affection goes a long way with me / I don't wanna quietly resent you / I just want the easy fix," she sings in the first verse. The vocals are delivered fast - dare I say bordering on rapping - and have a bitter aftertaste; Hilary knows she isn't the issue here. The chorus amps things up to another level - I'm pretty sure everyone else gasped with glee when I did when they first heard the lines "Back of the dive bar / Giving you head" and "I'm touching myself looking at porn." We've never seen Hilary this sex-forward, and it was a clear indicator that this was indeed a new Hilary.
This newer adult lens is baked into the entirety of luck... or something. At the surface level, a number of songs explicitly mention sex, with it being the central topic of "Holiday Party" and of course "Roommates." Hilary says "fuck" and "shit" a bunch, and she references various liquors by name. Digging deeper emotionally, we have songs like "Weather for Tennis" that details conflict resolution and trying to be the bigger person, while Duff exposes her anxieties for the world ahead in both "Future Tripping" and "Tell Me That Won't Happen." There's also, of course, the very literal "Growing Up."
One newer and less positive development in Duff's life since her last record is her strained relationship with older sister and former collaborator Haylie. In a recent interview, Hilary described not having her sister in her life anymore as "the most lonely part of [her] existence." "We Don't Talk" is a devastating confessional, perhaps the most emotionally vulnerable song in Duff's entire discography. The song laments how they "come from the same home, the same blood" and how Hilary never knows how to answer questions about Haylie because they simply aren't in contact. On the bridge, Hilary lays things even more bare: "Let's have it out / I'll hear you out / You'll hear me out on the couch / Get back to how we were as kids." Fittingly, the chorus' musical backing is heavily reminiscent of Gotye's "Somebody That I Used to Know" (though I can't find a songwriting credit as of publishing). Despite being the shortest song on the record, it may be the most resonant.
The musical inspirations for luck... or something are abundant and identifiable, but still spun to be uniquely Hilary. "The Optimist" could slide into the track list of Kacey Musgrave's Deeper Well. Carly Rae Jepsen's cutesy, finely-tuned pop sound seems to be an overarching influence, most noticeable on "Holiday Party" and "Mature." There's also an alt-rock undercurrent that pops its head out on occasion: "You, From The Honeymoon" reminds me of Japanese Breakfast's latest album, while "Weather for Tennis" and particularly "Tell Me That Won't Happen" lean on some The 1975-sounding guitar licks. Most direct is "Growing Up," which is practically a cover of Blink-182's "Dammit." There are even several name-drops that unveil a more hipster-chic perspective, from indie faves Bon Iver and The Japanese House to the legendary artist Jean-Michel Basquiat.
The songwriting across the board is excellent. The personal connection between Duff and co-writer and husband Matthew Koma is palpable; these songs are hand-crafted, personal, and not rushed. There's certainly a formula here - every track is approximately 3-4 minutes long and pretty much follows the traditional verse-chorus-bridge structure - but for a lyric-focused pop record, that's exactly what you're looking for. The production is warm and contemporary, a stable sound with only the occasional flourish, aligning with the fairly melancholic nature of the album. Frequent collaborator Kara DioGuardi's presence is missed, but given how personal the album is, it's understandable why Duff and Koma mostly kept things in-house.
The album's final shining moment comes, fittingly, on its closer, "Adult Size Medium." While most songs on luck... or something are very tight, "Adult Size Medium" is a wide-open, cinematic track that is destined to be a crowd pleaser on tour. Built around a sky-scraping riff that's a potential nod to/level-up of the one from Dignity's "Dreamer" (or, perhaps, Ellie Goulding's "Anything Could Happen"), the track swells over the horizon as Hilary takes stock of everything that's brought her to this moment. "Was any of it worth it after all?" she wonders, adding, "Is my reflection someone else's story?" It then makes the brilliant decision to close out the entire album with the title as the final lyric: "I remember it all and I remember nothing / How did we get here? / Was it luck or something?" It's contemplative and unsure, and one of the few examples in pop music of a song that focuses on the downsides of stardom and makes those feelings relatable.
luck... or something works so well as an album not only because the songs themselves are great, but because it's an album that is reflective of both its creator and audience. It's an album about looking back and looking ahead, about aging, about figuring out relationships and the future and where you fit into this crazy world. Hilary Duff isn't 15 any more, and neither are her fans. luck... or something leans into that, eschewing the temptation for pure nostalgia-bait and instead introducing us to a new stage of Duff's life and career.
More than twenty years have gone by since I got that Sony stereo system and heard Metamorphosis for the first time. Since then, I have obviously expanded my horizons into artists and genres that no seven year old will have ever heard of - hell, I literally have a blog about that! I've shunned pop music before drifting back, I've seen probably over a hundred different bands perform live, and haven't even owned a CD player in at least a decade. But to me, Hilary Duff will always be where it all really started, and will always be home. So for her to return in our big year of 2026 with such an incredibly solid comeback record, one that shows she knows exactly who her fanbase is and always has been, one that is authentically Hilary Duff - well, that's just special. And when I see her show on tour this coming August, I have a feeling I'll be forever changed once again.
luck... or something is out everywhere via Sugarmouse and Atlantic Records.
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