Taylor Talk

The Bigger They Are The Harder They Fall.

On the judgment day, God will weigh each Swiftie’s heart against a feather, and if the feather is lighter, they will be cast out of heaven. Or so I assume. Everything I’ve read about Taylor Swift in the past week began with a preface about exactly what kind of Swiftie or non-Swiftie the author is. As if there is someone out there who is reading something about Taylor Swift whose heart is in the right place. But no one is absolved here. To have an opinion on Taylor Swift, negative or positive, indicts you. To be neutral is the coward’s choice. Everyone is writing incessantly, trying to prove their innocence and achieve the heavenly anointed outlook. Ain’t gonna happen. She’s made us all crazy. As I’ve been saying for years, it’s time to learn to love the bomb,

I passed normal long ago, as I am no longer just in it for the music. You love Taylor Swift, the Pop Star. I love Taylor Swift, the megalomaniacal former child star, maintaining a career that all experts would have predicted ending in tragedy 3 years ago. I am not interested in fighting her or holding her to any kind of personal standard I know she will not meet. I understand that she is craven and self-serving, and I do not hold it against her. I might even like her more because of it.

If you were her, you would be brave, but you’re not her. You had a childhood and a private life. I don’t give much weight to the opinions of how a celebrity should behave from people who are afraid to speak in public, let alone put every inch of themselves and their loved ones on full display. How would it feel to know that you are the first line in the obituary of everyone around you? I want to stand before this grandness and understand it. I am interested in observing her. Who else is doing it like her? And most importantly, what will she do next?

I’ve seen what the other side has to offer, and I’m not impressed. I was once a cool alt girl too good for Taylor Swift. But no one has been as narratively compelling, and the more you’re in it, the more there is to know, and the more interesting she becomes. Once you accept that she really is one interesting chica in ways below surface level, arguments against her feel more hollow. You can see the flicker of delight in a man’s eye when they get to be mean about Taylor Swift. They start by calling her a Billionaire, knowing they have just received carte blanche to criticize a woman without shame. The criticisms may be valid, but the joy is always overkill. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s evil and has the heart of a robber baron, but a dynamic character has flaws.

Now that I have successfully proven to be the right kind of Swiftie, a tempered woman worth reading, let’s discuss the latest entry in the Story of Taylor Swift. Let’s say it: It’s bad. It’s not a good album. It’s the worst she’s ever put out. It’s bad for pop music, it’s bad for Taylor Swift, it doesn’t lend itself to edits. It’s embarrassing that she couldn’t pull out her fastball for at least one song. Even Reputation had “Dress” and “Gorgeous” (and “King of my Heart”)! Admitting is the first step on this healing journey.

I know this album is bad not only because I trust my taste but because of a general feeling in the air. I was expecting to be thrown into a weekend of re-listens, theories, and edits. Friends finding new favorite songs and new lore being dug up. This album felt empty. People put in the work, but it was obligatory and not fueled by passion. Instead, this weekend was filled with arguing, hedging, and discussions of pop music as a category. Boring! I could not bring myself to re-listen to the album even once. So instead of taking over my life as I wanted it to so badly, I have to fill that hole myself. If the album were good, I would dive headfirst into it obsessively. That’s why I’m here. I know how good it can feel when a Taylor album takes over your life for a moment. I was ready, willing, and able, and found the album lacking, with nothing to grab onto.

The basic function of popular music is to create an environment for courting, lovemaking, and doing the dishes. It’s useful because it addresses the heart in the midst of all these activities, and it will always be useful in this very important way.”

— Leonard Cohen

I want a criticism of this album that does not dismiss her outright, or claim that it has always been like this. These songs are so bad. They are uniquely bad. They are all her worst instincts and bad habits picked up over her career. Sing talking, wordiness confused for good writing, literary allusions confused for depth, references confused for jokes. All of it is apparent on first listen that this was not a cohesive concept album but a messy, slapdash group of rough drafts over a Max Martin beat. There is not a “Blank Space”, or “New Romantics”, or “Wonderland” to be found. This album is her Achilles heel on full display—every insecurity with none of the talent. A nightmare scenario.

Everything I’ve read in the past few days comes from pro-Taylor camps where criticism is outlawed, deconstructionist camps that think this has all been a lie, anti-Taylor camps that believe this is how it always was, or people who have accepted this new album as just another middling entry in a series of middling entries from her. I want criticism of this album that gets into the meat of why this is so bad. I may be of a rare breed that believes this, but I consider criticism a form of love. I want us all to be better, and we don’t get better without constructive feedback. I love Taylor Swift’s music and her whole thing. I want her work to be the best version of that.

Though this album is lackluster, ultimately, I have decided to forgive her. My personal explanation for why this album is so bad is that she is happy and busy. Work doesn’t have to suffer if you’re happy, but it will suffer if your happiness comes from attending a lot of events. I’m sure if we read the emails that were sent over the course of this album, there would be a lot of “can’t at Via Carota. will circle back tomorrow,” and “sorry I missed your call, game ran long.” We know from all her fun public appearances that the album was not her main focus. You can be happy and still make good work. You can be partying and still make good work. But you can’t be all 3. At this point in her career, it makes sense which 2 Taylor chose.

This album provides none of the things I like to think about when it comes to Taylor Swift. I didn’t like any of her little stories on this one. I found both the songs and their real-life narratives a little boring. They are either not interesting anymore or were never interesting to begin with. The Charli song is a total misstep and fails to mine anything interesting from that relationship. If Taylor weren’t so defensive and sensitive, I would like to see what an honest and understanding response to Sympathy is a Knife could be. Or at least one on the same level as the first song.

The genius of Sympathy is a Knife is that it works in both directions. One is the model for a successful woman in the music industry, and the other is her most successful antithesis. There is no fair competition between them because one is always the obvious winner. There are fundamental differences that will never be bridged. These differences feel intrinsic to their personhood, but no one seems to be able to figure out what exactly they are. We talk around the issue but refuse to diagnose it as simply an issue of coolness. I think I know, but everyone has to promise not to get mad at me. It is reductive and it feels bad to say, but some girls date lead singers and some girls date drummers. It’s not a value judgement, it’s just how things are.

“As it happened I did not grow up to be the kind of woman who is the heroine in a Western, and although the men I have known have had many virtues and have taken me to live in many places that I have come to love, they have never been John Wayne, and they have never taken me to that bend in the river where to cottonwoods grow. Deep in that part of my heart where the artificial rain forever falls, that is still the line I wait to hear.”

— Joan Didion

The public at large is not ready for this discussion. There seems to be no understanding for someone striving for something who is not an underdog. I don’t believe Taylor thinks she’s the “underdog”. She rightfully understands that people hate her and there are certain things she simply isn’t yet, and might never be. In the same breath, people will claim that Taylor Swift both has everything but will never have sex appeal or true artistry. Those are two things she doesn’t have, and aren’t those the two things that everyone wants, after, of course, money? Don’t you want to be respected, successful, and sexy?

As it stands now, Taylor Swift will probably never have sex appeal, and the lack of the modifier “good for what it is.” Every argument for her is in service of these two points, and every argument against pretends they don’t matter. One can try to buy prestige and sex appeal, but if it’s not there, it’s not there. We all want the money to be enough, but as almost every piece of art about having and accruing money tells us, it’s not. The money will never fix the problem of being “not that kind of girl”, a designation that is never fully within our control. We must always ask the audience, and some things are intrinsic to the soul. Charli has the things Tayloe wants most and cannot achieve, even with all her success. The rift between them is cosmic. The general public and people around them react to them in ways they cannot change. For Taylor, this means record-breaking success that is denigrated at every turn. For Charli, this means critical success and devoted fans that will never translate to what Taylor has. Both of these designations were made before either girl decided to make music.

If Taylor were willing to be honest in this conflict, we might get somewhere. Sympathy is a Knife is not a kind song, but Charli is mostly focused on herself. She’s bringing herself down with Taylor. Taylor is throwing rocks from her pedestal, instead of admitting why that song stung. Instead of making peace with this distinction, Taylor has tried her hardest to become something different. This album is her attempt to finally be sexy and fun in her own way. Unfortunately, her version of sexy and fun, both for mass appeal and the limits of her personhood, cannot be a reference point from this century. It has to be a showgirl, a job we all understand perfectly.

A Showgirl might be the perfect metaphor for Taylor. Something we can all picture, but when we get into the exact definition of it, everyone has a slightly different version. It’s not a job we actually understand. In the past, the Showgirl shocked America with her randy ways on screen, and though the job exists today, the version we see in media is more representative of a kind of woman than a person with that profession. It’s a Hayes code version of a sex worker or loose woman. An imagination from an old movie that we can never truly make real. Taylor Swift, the brand, is also an antiquated and chaste version of something that doesn’t really exist, at least on its face.

From here, I think we have to wait and see. This is one of those in-between eras that you have between big moments. One of those times where everything is weird and you have to define it yourself, even though everything around you is about to change anyway. Much like how things were in March, your senior year of high school. Too long to just skip it, but too short to be a definable era of your life. She’s not touring this one, all the more incentive to not really care. Travis is 100% retiring at the end of this year, Super Bowl or no. (This whole thing has made me an NFL is scripted truther) She gets married next summer, and then we’re in a new world.

The new world is full of promise. It will have a retired husband and many career wins that can’t be topped. It comes with time off and a wedding. Maybe even Children. It’s all so exciting. I might be in the minority here, but I like Travis for her. She’s seen the world and had experiences; it’s ok to come back to the boy on the football team after essentially being kicked out of London. Though I do sense there may be some restlessness in both of them. Taylor and Travis do have something fundamental in common: a family that sacrificed normalcy for greatness. Parents who gave up everything to make sure their children were superstars. Now everyone involved has what they wanted, and they all claim to be happy. But what is Happiness for a lifelong striver?

Song by Song Breakdown

The Fate of Ophelia

I’ve never read Hamlet, so I don’t care about engaging with this song even a little bit.

Elizabeth Taylor

This one’s about Matty Healy. Interpret that how you will. If this song or album really had impact, millennial gay guys would be reminding us all of the White Diamonds commercial. One of the greatest pieces of art ever played on television.

Opalite

Sure. Whatever.

Father Figure

I wish this song were better. I wish she weren’t so literal with her mob references. I wish everything about it were cleaner or edited. I like thinking about the line “who’s portraits on the mantle” as either the father figure’s portrait of himself or, if the song is about Scott Borschetta (same name as her actual father), that her portrait is on the mantle and instead of the key change being man to man, it’s father to daughter and it’s about being the face of the operation. Too bad it’s not about that.

Eldest Daughter

This one, I think, is the closest to a good song. It sounds good as long as you don’t listen to the lyrics even a little bit. It’s so awful if you listen to the lyrics. Until the bridge. The Bridge is great, and a classic Taylor bridge. Someone should have taken a red pen and crossed out “Bad bitch” and “savage”.

Ruin the Friendship

This song would be better on a better album. Instead, it feels like a reminder that she can be serious. This is a moment in a play where everyone is laughing and having fun, and she suddenly brings the mood down by revealing a dark secret from her past. Her “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Moment.

Actually Romantic

As far as the feud, I’m a Charli girl until I die. Though really, I shouldn’t have a horse in this race as I am a redhead and this is clearly a blonde vs. brunette fight. But as someone who has celebrated multiple birthdays at Tenants of the Trees (sorry), I’m much more likely to listen to Sympathy is a Knife than Actually Romantic. My love for Taylor is studied and appreciative. My love for Charli is too pure for words.

Wi$h Li$t

This sounds like a Lonely Island song. There’s something about the structure where I keep expecting a joke to come.

Wood

Ok, actually, I’m coming around to this one as a swing and a miss. I don’t like listening to it, but it’s a really funny attempt at something. The Ariana Stan Tweet reference is so funny.

CANCELLED!

I don’t think Taylor Swift knows what cancelled means. She thinks she was cancelled, and she never has been. No one really has, but she, least of all. So this could be about anyone. Or more specifically, 5 people. Matty Healy (unlikely but it’s fun to dream), Blake Lively (fun way to get around a gag order from your lawyer), Sophie Turner (British spelling of canceled, everyone comes out clean), Gigi Hadid (roundabout way of talking about Palestine, unlikely but fun to dream), or Britanny Mahomes. If I may write some fan fiction about the Britanny Mahomes situation. That friendship has an exit sign. When Travis retires, she never has to be publicly seen with that woman again. She’s the definition of someone not worth fighting with. I also think Taylor sympathizes with Brittany as a victim of misogyny. Of course, we know now that Brittany is MAGA, but before, everyone hated her for her voice and fiancee gums. It was vibes-based, and unfortunately, that vibe was misogyny. I don’t think she would write a song about Britany Mahomes. I don’t think she thinks about Brittany Mahomes unless she sees her 5-foot-4-inch frame out of the corner of her eye.

Honey

I don’t remember this one.

The Life of a Showgirl

I’d like to put forth a theory I’ve been working on for a while now: Taylor Swift wishes she were from Massachusetts. To the uninitiated, one might think this is preposterous. However, one North East girl to another, I totally get it. Massachusetts is the most normal place one of us could be from while still holding on to an air of refinement. Connecticut is a suburb, Rhode Island is a theme park, Vermont is too rural, New Hampshire too libertarian, and Maine too far north. Don’t even get me started on New York and New Jersey. Massachusetts is the happy medium. It’s Pennsylvania without the coal and the railroads. Merril Lynch has an office in Boston. If I may go a step further, I’m sure she thinks Massachusetts is where she could have been normal. It’s where I’d want to be from if I were normal.