We all remember where we were. In the midst of a pandemic, a rumored One Direction reunion, and a brutal summer in isolation, on the morning of July 23, 2020, Taylor Swift quite literally broke the internet with her announcement that she would be releasing her eighth studio album that night. Straying from industry protocol and her own routine, for the first time, she released an album with no prior promotion, no singles, and no forewarning. She stepped out of the limelight of pop hits and catchy choruses and into a Stevie Nicks-esque fantasy land that she imagined to take place in another reality or off in the woods of a faraway land. With her album, Folklore, Swift relinquishes her autobiographical songwriting and crafts her own characters in her own universe, and with a momentous announcement, she welcomed millions into her haven.

In her documentary Miss Americana, which closely preceded Folklore, Swift confesses her fears that Lover era had been her “last chance” to obtain the level of acclaim that she had once received; in hindsight, we can see that she could not have been more wrong, and she might just owe that to Folklore. By abandoning her own desire to top charts and break records, she unknowingly opened herself to a limitless realm of artistic possibilities, experimenting with yet another genre of music and new producers. Little did she know, but she just happened to give people exactly what they were so desperately craving: an escape.

The album starts out strong with the simple but poignant, “I’m doing good / I’m on some new s***.” With that reassurance, Swift proceeds to drift further from reality with each track, beginning with “The 1,” in which she copes with the end of a relationship through a lens that she has never explored before. While she does include a few typical breakup songs on Folklore, many of which are in reference to hypothetical situations, she approaches them with more maturity than she has in the past, writing with a tone that is more regretful than it is scorned on both “The 1” and “Exile.”

Almost serving as a nod to her work from her teenage years, Swift also re-examines young love on Folklore with the added insight that she has gained in the years since she experienced it firsthand. Specifically, the trio of songs “Cardigan,” “August,” and “Betty” slyly depicts the story of two 17-year-olds named Betty and James who break up after James unfaithfully spends the summer with another girl, who is often called Augustine. The three tracks overlap each other despite being scattered around the album, almost in a theater-like fashion. Swift writes from the perspective of each teenager, granting all three of them empathy and the benefit of the doubt, something that she admits to have overlooked as a younger writer. Whether listeners see themselves in Betty, Augustine, or James, the songs can be appreciated individually or through the context of the rom-com-like plotline that Swift created through merely three tracks.

While the love-triangle is certainly a highlight of Folklore, Swift spends a majority of the record covering much more complex issues than teenage love. In one of her most lyrically impressive tracks, My Tears Ricochet, she provides insight to her ferocious reaction to Scooter Braun’s infamous purchase of the masters of her first six albums, actually addressing her former manager, Scott Borchetta. In response to his betrayal, she explains that she “didn’t have it in herself to go with grace,” pointing out that despite his denial of her pain, he ultimately ended up experiencing the same devastation as his career sank without her. She references the same situation in the caustic “Mad Woman,” which expertly conveys its feminist message through an eloquent description of how her enemies “poke that bear till her claws come out / and [they] find something to wrap [their] noose around,” which proves to even more effective than her previous strategy of parading her activism through generalized descriptions of her struggles.

In “Epiphany,” Swift soberly compares her late grandfather’s experiences fighting in World War II with the agony shared by millions of people at the time, while Covid was at its peak. With this track, she once again demonstrates that the most effective songs aiming for unification are subtle, respectful, and acknowledge tragedy instead of artificially preaching the importance of hope and positivity, disregarding the people who are actually suffering.

Continuing with the trend of acknowledging difficult subjects through this album, Swift opens up yet again about her struggles with mental health in “This is Me Trying.” She manages to articulate a feeling of helplessness that so many people experience, discussing how burnout can impact those who experience depression for the first time with no prior basis of coping with it. This track is painfully vulnerable, touching on topics like suicide and alcoholism but coming together with a twist that only ever-positive Swift could design; despite all of her flaws and failures, she cushions the shame with the line found in the song’s title, promising that she is trying her very best. Similarly, in “Mirrorball,” she uses an intricate and perfect metaphor, comparing herself to the mirrorball hanging over a dance floor, designed to dazzle people. Like a mirrorball, she has also been shattered and put back together in order to shine, and while this comparison can be applicable to anyone, it is heightened by her status as a celebrity whose personal life is exploited for the entertainment of the masses. Finally, she acknowledges her anxiety again in “Peace,” conceding she cannot be in love without dragging her partner into the spotlight and subjecting them to the same scrutiny that she chose for herself, warning them that danger is “just around the corner” because “it lives in [her].” On this tragically romantic track, she discloses her fears that she will never be enough because, no matter what, she will never be able to give someone she loves a “normal” life.

Despite its overall gloominess, this album does also contain some lighter tracks. In “Invisible String,” she declares that she was destined to find her love, highlighting the parallels between their lives and tying them together with the idea of serendipity. This contrasts Swift’s typically pragmatic outlook, as she muses about fate and soulmates through sweet vocals and a mystical melody. In “Seven,” she reflects on a friendship with a figure from her childhood with nostalgia, recalling loving them “to the moon and to Saturn,” and in “The Last Great American Dynasty” she cleverly depicts the story of a socialite named Rebekah Harkness, who caused trouble while owning Swift’s Rhode Island mansion before her. Swift comedically acknowledges the similarities between both women, proudly declaring them both “the loudest woman this town has ever seen,” bonding over the fact that they “had a marvelous time ruining everything.”

With confidence in her artistry and a clear image of who she is, Swift definitively proves herself as a songwriter with Folklore. If anyone still doubted her abilities after her first seven albums, she proved them wrong with her wisdom and vocabulary on this record, securing at least three more years of even greater success and a third Grammy for Album of the Year. With Folklore, Taylor Swift broke precedence, records, and hearts and extended her legacy from a successful pop star to a venerated lyricist.

PS: Stream 1989 (Taylor’s Version) tonight at midnight!!!!!

NOTE: I’m sorry for making it so long – I really love this album

After the dust had settled on her Reputation era and she had reclaimed her success following a record-breaking tour, Taylor Swift was ready to undergo yet another metamorphosis, shedding her snakeskin in exchange for butterfly wings. Suddenly, after three years of media silence, she was interviewing, performing, and publicizing her new record yet again, as well as reigniting her blacked out Instagram with a new, pastel-themed aesthetic. While her previous album had been stealthily romantic, her next one was loud and proud about her love. As Taylor herself put it, her seventh studio album, Lover, was designed to be “a love letter to love itself.”

Perhaps my greatest grudge with Ms. Swift, I cannot discuss one of my favorite albums without acknowledging the tragedy of her lead single choice. In what I believe to be a sabotage of her chances of dethroning the reigning “Old Town Road,” (what an era) she chose to release the bubblegum pop “ME!,” featuring Brendon Urie, as a first glimpse into the album. While the song might actually have merit if considered from the right perspective (8th grade me certainly enjoyed it), unfortunately it was received poorly, giving the album a juvenile repute before its release; however, if you look beyond the cheesy singles, Lover proves itself to be so much more in terms of maturity, quality, and artistry.

Beginning with the comical “I Forgot That You Existed,” Swift establishes immediately that this album is dedicated to only those who will support her and that she is unconcerned with the opinions of those who don’t matter, flaunting her indifference toward those who hurt her in the past. It’s the next track, however, that legitimizes the record beyond any criticism it received: the now-famous “Cruel Summer.” In recent years, and especially this most recent summer, this song has achieved new levels of success and fame, even meriting a remix and live recording as of this week – three years later! At the time of the album’s release, however, Cruel Summer was not well-known beyond Swift’s fan base, partially as a result of her decision to not release it as the lead single. I truly believe that this song, with its beautiful, catchy melody and memorable bridge, is one of Swift’s most impressive tracks, especially within her pop catalog. Personally, since its release, I have never heard this song and not experienced the urge to sing (or scream) along. It’s safe to say that I’m a fan of “Cruel Summer.”

As a whole, Lover stays true to its name, referencing romantic love during most of its tracks with overwhelmingly vulnerable, enamored lyrics. The standouts include the title track, “Lover,” which serves as an instant classic with its 70s inspired production that is perfect for a slow-dance. The similarly romantic “Cornelia Street” is simultaneously heartbreaking, with Swift singing that she “hopes she never loses [her partner]” and vowing that, if she did, she would experience “the kind of heartbreak time could never mend” and would “never walk Cornelia Street again.” Likewise, “I Think He Knows,” “London Boy,” and “Paper Rings” feature light-hearted and flirtatious lyrics that convey in clear terms to listeners the degree of Swift’s infatuation. Of course, her relationship, like any other, features its obstacles, and she discloses them openly in “False God” and “Afterglow,” voicing her anxieties about being the one to ruin the relationship, but always concluding with the reassurance that her love is strong enough to endure.

While Lover is a romantic album at its core, Swift addresses love in all of its forms on this record, including more difficult topics, like anxiety and heartbreak. “The Archer,” one of her most vulnerable tracks, especially at the time of its release, confesses her self-destructive tendencies and her fears that “they see right through [her].” Its repetitive nature and lack of a satisfying chorus mimics the unsettling sensations associated with anxiety, expertly conveying Swift’s turbulent relationship with self-image. On the other hand, representing a quintessential Taylor Swift breakup song, in “Death By a Thousand Cuts,” Swift explores romance from the lens of lost love. This track brings us one of her most lyrically elaborate and impressive bridges, once again validating the record in terms of songwriting. The album also features “Soon You’ll Get Better,” the painful track written about her mother’s cancer, written about familial love and touching the hearts of those who are in similar situations.

The Lover era also marked the breaking of Swift’s political silence, which until that point had been demanded of her by her previous record company. Liberated by her decision to use her platform to advocate for her values, especially during such a politically tempestuous period, Swift exercised this newfound voice on tracks like “The Man” and “You Need to Calm Down,” which proudly condemn the sexism she has experienced, as well as the homophobia she witnessed in society. Her execution of especially the latter track was mildly controversial, but this political involvement was undeniably effective considering her success in persuading unprecedented numbers of young people to vote and sign a petition for the Equality Act. My favorite of her political tracks, however, is “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince,” in which her advocacy is so covert that most people missed it upon the album’s release. In this song, her criticism of the nation’s political climate at the time is conveyed through an allegory of a high school which follows her disillusionment, as prom queen or America’s sweetheart, of the corruption in her school, which represents the nation as a whole. This parallels her real life as she admits to the fact that she had been sheltered as a teen star, but became aware as she grew older of the harsh realities of the country that had lauded her for her whole life.

During the bridge of the album’s closing track, Daylight, Swift reflects upon her attitude toward love in the past in comparison to her mindset after finding what she has now. Alluding to previous eras, filled with romantic uncertainty, turmoil, and naivety, she divulges with angelic vocals and crescendoing instrumentals that she “once believed love would be black and white” and “burning red,” “but it’s golden like daylight.” For the first time in her life, she has a sense of closure and stability, even developing the ability to move on from the things that haunted her in the past and the grudges she once swore she’d hold on to forever. She expresses, at the end of the song and album, that she wishes to “step into the daylight and let it go.” With Lover, Taylor Swift found true fidelity, but also developed an authentic sense of herself, and looking toward a future of bright pink sunsets and hearts around her eye, she shares with the world her idea of true contentment and peace.

NOTE: I skipped 1989 for now so that I can write about the rerecording after it comes out!

In the wake of what she believed to be the end of her career, with #TaylorSwiftisOverParty trending on Twitter and her comment sections flooded with snake emojis, Taylor Swift had a pivotal decision to make; she could retreat and accept a lifetime of hiding, or she could take the mic back and reclaim her image. As the story goes, she chose the second option, and her sixth album was born. As Swift herself put it, “in the death of her reputation, she felt truly alive.”

Reputation marked a turning point in Swift’s career, which had been forged until that point upon the basis of her prestige as America’s sweetheart. She denounced her past and started fresh by breaking all her patterns, waiting three years to release the album instead of her typical two and refusing to do any promotion during the album’s rollout. She even went so far as to black out her Instagram and reclaim the symbol of the snake by posting cryptic images that ultimately turned out to be previews of the album’s visuals. At last, she broke her silence with the notorious “Look What You Made Me Do,” and the Reputation era had begun.

At face value, Reputation is dark, edgy, and vengeful. Songs like “I Did Something Bad” and “This is Why We Can’t Have Nice things” create the cold and detached image around which Swift centered her record. Even the album’s opening track “…Ready for It” supports this image in its verses as Swift ventures into experimenting with rap-style singing and a trap beat for the first time; however, at its core, this record is more profound than it appears, and this becomes clear during the chorus of the same song when Swift lets her guard down and switches who she is addressing mid-song. Instead of singing about someone like she does during the verses, she starts singing to him directly, with softer and higher vocals. It’s from this point that the real message behind Reputation begins to reveal itself. While the album does serve as a diatribe against those who betrayed Swift, it is also proof of her success in finding those who truly matter to her and in discovering a love who she knows she can trust.

The fifth track of Swift’s albums are (as many fans are aware) usually reserved for the “saddest” song on the record. On Reputation, however, the spot is instead claimed by the most vulnerable track, “Delicate,” in which she reveals, in reference to this new love, that “[her] reputation’s never been worse / so [he] must like [her] for [her].” She goes on to declare in songs like “Don’t Blame Me,” that her “drug is [her] baby / [she’ll] be using for the rest of [her] life,” and even confesses that she wants to be his “End Game.” To someone experiencing this album for the first time, it may seem like this is the most intensely romantic she could be on such a cynical record, but the real vulnerability comes during the songs in the second half.

Reputation, in addition to being powerful and intimate, is also simply fun. With “Gorgeous” and “Getaway Car,” Swift delivers catchy melodies that serve as detailed narratives, filling in the blanks about everything that she had refused to comment on during her year-long silence. These lighter songs serve as a bridge to my personal favorite section of the album, which contains the amorous “King of My Heart,” “Dancing with Our Hands Tied,” “Dress,” and closing piano track, “New Year’s Day.” Swift creates a feeling of safety and secrecy despite her fame by providing no context into her relationship while also publishing her most personalized lyrics for everyone to hear, envy, or claim as their own.

In the song “Call it What You Want,” Swift lets her guard down entirely, revealing what the album is at its core with the lyrics,“all [her] flowers grew back as thorns / windows boarded up after the storm / he built a fire just to keep [her] warm.” While Swift is undeniably independent, powerful, and victorious in Reputation, her real triumph comes from the authenticity of her happiness. In her “fall from grace” she may have lost her reputation and those who didn’t truly care about her, but with Reputation, she found those who mattered most and rose from the dead.

It’s that time of year again. You feel the first chills in the air, the leaves start to change, and you miraculously find yourself with a pumpkin spice latte in your hand three days in a row. You know that this can only mean one thing: it’s Red season.

If Taylor Swift’s success can partially be attributed to her expert strategy of marketing her albums as eras that embody unique aesthetics, then her branding of the album Red represents the pinnacle of her achievement. From the acoustic instrumentals on the record to the autumn-themed lyrics, she claims the entire season as her own and centers the album’s visuals around the fall color palette.

While Red is often considered to be Swift’s heartbreak album or the soundtrack to “sad girl autumn,” it contains themes far more nuanced than simply melancholia. It begins with the reverent love song ‘“State of Grace” and introduces the motif of “twin fire signs,” acknowledging from the start that “love is a ruthless game / unless you play it good and right.” Red debuts a shift in perspective from Swift, who in her early records maintained an optimistic outlook on love; in her fourth album, she establishes that she will continue to search for it, but understands the risk of getting hurt. In fact, while she spends the first three songs of the record, including the title track and the accurately titled “Treacherous,”’ romanticizing the obstacles and red flags of her love, by the fourth song and radio hit, “I Knew You Were Trouble,” she is able to reflect upon a failed relationship with the awareness that she knew that it would never work.

Where the album lacks in cohesion, and I have to admit that it does, it makes up for with its range of moods. For instance, several of her most popular songs, like “22” and “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” are joined in the rerecordings by upbeat pop tracks like “Message in a Bottle,” and “The Very First Night.” While 1989 is typically considered her first venture into pop music, Swift was arguably experimenting with genres long before.

On the other hand, however, I would be remiss if I analyzed Red without discussing the truly gut-wrenching stand-outs on the album. “Sad, Beautiful, Tragic” reminisces on a love that left them mutually wounded, where Swift confesses that he has “[his] demons, and darling they all [her].” Similarly, “Better Man” more scathingly reflects on a relationship with someone who did not deserve her love, and she strays from her romantic themes on “Nothing New” and “The Lucky One,” divulging her insecurities about her success being fleeting and fantasizing about running away from the spotlight.

She ties all of her heartbreak together with the closing track on the re-recorded album and one of her most acclaimed and impressive works ever: “All Too Well (10 Minute Version).” With lyrics so articulate and interconnected which tell a story that touched the hearts of enough people to land this song at #1 on the Billboard Top 100, “All Too Well” is a songwriting (and short film directing) highlight in Swift’s career. While it would take an entire blog post to even begin analyzing the lyricism on this track, I’ll leave you with one that I think is relevant to the album is a whole; during the outro of the song, she demands to know if “the twin flame bruise [painted him] blue / just between [them] did the love affair maim [him] too?” As perfect parallel with the opening of the album, this line is poignant, poetic, and loyal to the theme of the album.

Once again returning to the allusions to the fall, Taylor closes the original album on a very different note with the song “Begin Again.” It’s a song about learning to heal, trust, and love yourself and others again. If Red as a whole is the fall, “Begin Again” is the moment where the leaves, in the peak of their vibrance leave the tree and fall to the ground again. “Begin Again” is the reminder at the end of a heartbreak, once all of your feelings are processed, that things are forever changing and you can always start fresh.