A pause for reflection and realization.
On Lucky Girl, Hannah Frey tells memorable stories that she then dissects into quiet moments most of us are too scared to sit with. Her songwriting is intimate, confessional and feels like opening a sealed love letter from your partner. It’s as if each track was written alone at night, allowing for the truest of emotions to come forth.
The opener, “Quiet Quit,” sets the tone with its dusky guitar picking and resigned lyricism. It’s heartbreak without dramatics; instead, it’s the resilience and acceptance that is earned through pain. The title track “Lucky Girl” follows with an echoing guitar swirl, highlighting the belief in her own internal truth. On this record, she bridged the gap between how others see her and how she actually feels inside.
The emotional centerpiece of this record is “Inner Child.” In this song, Frey reconnects with the parts of herself that she has buried for a long time and deals with the regret that comes with that. It’s a memoir of the version of herself that existed before the critics came in. Through delicate instrumentation and fragile vocals, Frey reaches back toward that younger self, not to relive the past, but to understand it.
In “Cold Snack Lullaby (Quiet Quit Reprise),” the production speaks completely. The record sounds bare and bruised. Somehow, without any lyrics, you can hear the vulnerability – and it hits like a sigh.
“The Bright Side” is the last song with vocals on the album. It contains childlike imagery that feels like it’s masking adult grief. Over a sparse and thin-sounding guitar line, she captures the eerie feeling of growing up too fast, too clumsily.
There’s nothing flashy about Lucky Girl; it trusts that the listener will lean into this record and find the truths within the somber-sounding tracks. This record feels like an echo chamber in the best possible way; it’s a moment of reflection.
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