Too attached to her make-believe fairytale land to say goodbye, Taylor Swift spent the latter half of the year 2020 perfecting her newfound indie-folk voice and crafting a sister album to her wildly successful Folkore. In every way that Folklore was innocent, soft, and summery, with its black and white color scheme and themes of young love, Swift’s new record was just the opposite: warm, rich, mature, and convoluted. Evermore, Taylor Swift’s ninth studio album, did not receive the same critical acclaim as its sister; however, where it lacks in catchy melodies and marketable hits, it makes up in depth, and in my opinion, proves itself to be Swift’s best work so far.

With its murky brown and orange palette, it is clear that Evermore is not meant to be a marketable album to the general public. Its opening track, “Willow,” successfully made its way to radio stations, depicting a seemingly straightforward love story, but in the tracks that follow, Swift explores a range of tales that share nothing but a bottom line.

The following song, “Champagne Problems,” accompanied by a desolate piano, launches into the fictional aspect of the record, written from the perspective of an imaginary woman after she rejects a marriage proposal from the man she loves with no explanation except that “sometimes you just don’t know the answer till someone’s on their knees and asks you.” This track introduces both Swift’s most complex songwriting yet with metaphorical lines like “your Midas touch on the Chevy door,” as well as the holiday themes scattered throughout the album, which was released in December. With the lyric “and soon they’ll have the nerve to deck the halls that we once walked through,” Swift shatters yet another barrier by introducing an additional theme of the record through the song’s bridge.

Evermore is far from the traditional holiday album, containing no festive lyrics or bells as instrumentals; however, it addresses another aspect of the Christmas season that is rarely discussed in the media or pop culture. The record was written as a haven from the pain that so many experience during Christmastime, sheltering listeners from the cold with sonorous vocals and instrumentals. On “‘Tis the Damn Season,” for instance, Swift plays on the popular phrase to highlight a different side of the story, where a college student returns home and reconnects with an old flame, expressing the pain in “[leaving] the warmest bed [she’s] ever known.” The comfort in this song, apart from sonic elements, comes from the familiarity of childhood landmarks and characters, as Swift explains that it “always leads to you and my hometown.”

She continues with the theme of heartbreak on tracks like “Happiness,” which describes the end of a hypothetical seven-year long relationship where no one is to blame, and “Coney Island,” which reflects on past loves with remorse. Additionally, with “Tolerate It,” Swift assumes the character of a 1950s-esque housewife who venerates her husband, only to receive indifference in return. Like the other tracks on the record, the plot of the song ends in a different place from where it started, with the speaker becoming aware of her power to “break free and leave [the relationship] in ruins” and take the “dagger in [her] and remove it.” This song creates an equally heartbreaking and empowering anthem for people who have experienced unfulfilling relationships.

While the album contains its fair share of anguish, it also tells stories of affection. Unlike Swift’s other records, however, the love songs on Evermore discuss romance, but with the added burden of an external barrier, creating more dynamic storylines than those from her previous records. The celestial “Gold Rush,” for instance, initially masks its message with dreamy orchestration and choral-inspired vocals, only to reveal that the love depicted in the song is a fantasy. A metamorphosed version of her older songs about unrequited love, “Gold Rush” highlights the word “never” with the crushing admission that the speaker ultimately will not be able to capture the attention of a desired figure. “Cowboy Like Me” illustrates a much different scenario with a slow-dance rhythm and wedding imagery, depicting a couple of evenly matched con-artists who met their match. Swift makes bold statements on this track, claiming that the speaker “is never gonna love again” and comparing the way that he “hang[s] from [her] lips” to “the Gardens of Babylon.” The conflict on this track is buried behind its romantic aesthetic and poetic lyrics, but once it is uncovered, it changes the whole meaning of the song. Swift ends the bridge with the line “forever is the sweetest con,” raising the question of whether the track describes a soulmate pairing that lasts forever or a breakup that leaves both people shattered. She drives this point home by emphasizing the line “I’m never gonna love again” repetitively at the end of the song, leaving the listener with the uncertainty of having to decide their own interpretation of the track.

The final love song on the album is lyrically my favorite Taylor Swift song ever. On “Ivy,” she continues with her trend of portraying nuanced romances with indefinite conclusions. This time, the primary conflict in the song is infidelity, with the speaker explaining that her “pain fits in the palm of [her love’s] freezing hand,” but her own hand has “been promised to another.” With painstakingly vulnerable lyrics, Swift highlights the grey area in this hypothetical affair, describing how his “ivy grows” on her “house of stone,” implying that the narrator’s disloyalty is a consequence of an invasive and uncontrollable passion. Also alluding to death with lines about how the speaker’s husband is “gonna burn this house to the ground” and an introduction that mentions an “old widow” who “goes to the stone everyday,” Swift entangles this already complicated issue even more. Once again, she leaves the song open-ended enough for each individual listener to create their own interpretation while still conveying her general message.

So what is the bottom line on this album that connects all of the seemingly unrelated songs? I propose that they all have one thing in common: each is about an ending. The end of a relationship in the breakup songs I discussed. The end of a fantasy in “Gold Rush,”and in “Willow,” “Cowboy like Me,” “Ivy,” and “Long Story Short,” the happy ending of a love story. As for the tracks I didn’t analyze, it’s the end of a life in the grotesque “No Body No Crime.” Conversely, “Marjorie,” a beautiful tribute to Swift’s late grandmother honors her beyond her passing. The end of a friendship in “Dorothea” and “Closure,” which touch upon contradicting ideas, respectively about trying to keep a dying bond alive, versus closing off communication with someone who hurt you.

While this may seem like a contradiction to the album’s title, Evermore, the title track and closing song on the album explains it all. Swift ends the record, after reflecting upon a dark time in her life, with the conclusion that “this pain wouldn’t be forevermore.” Nothing can last, good or bad, and on Evermore, Taylor Swift embraces this idea by writing each song as a unique homage to the idea of finality. “Long story short,” she reflects, “it was a bad time.” “Long story short,” however, “[she] survived.”

In 2014, Taylor Swift traded in her cowboy boots for a crop top and miniskirt and said goodbye to her Nashville home in exchange for a NYC highrise. She left behind her country accent and joined forces with a producer named Jack Antonoff with a specialty in synth-pop. Energized by the city that she now called home and a blazing determination to prove her doubters wrong, she endeavored to make what was, at the time, the boldest move of her career: a pop album. As she explored a new realm of her artistry and character, she knew that she had to title her 80s inspired record something just as personal to her; just like that, her fifth studio album, named after the year she was born, 1989, took over the world. Breaking down all the barriers created by those who tried to confine her to one genre, Swift, with a now-infamous army of girlfriends, a handful of new radio hits, and a second Grammy for Album of the Year, yet again pushed the limits of her fame and extended her fan base beyond the millions she had already reached. Who knew a haircut could do all that?

1989 is another one of those Taylor Swift eras that is defined by its aesthetics, and right off the bat, she immerses her listeners in her own landscape with the well-titled track “Welcome to New York.” This song marks the beginning of what is, in every way, a fresh start for Swift, and with bright, lively vocals and a strong beat, it successfully introduces one of her most sonically cohesive records.

Swift has opened up countless times about her frustration with the harassment she receives for her dating habits, which she considers to be perfectly normal for anyone who is not a woman in the public eye. While in the past, with songs like “Mean” she directly addressed her critics with frustration, by 1989 she found a new method, still including breakup songs on the album but also acknowledging the double standards that plagued her. In “Blank Space,” she mocks her haters through her satirical embrace of the media’s portrayal of her as a “serial dater,” claiming that “boys only want love if it’s torture” and sardonically detailing the manipulative ways in which people claim she entraps men. She takes a different approach on “Shake it Off,” creating an anthem for self-empowerment through a catchy melody and sarcastic lyrics. As arguably the two biggest hits of her career, these songs appeal to those who are similarly struggling with bullying, regardless of their age or fame.

Another challenge for Swift with 1989 was switching to a more “shallow” genre while also maintaining her insightful songwriting. She does just this, highlighting her ability to both fit a meter and rhyme scheme while also telling a story with “Out of the Woods.” On this track, she mimics the anxiety she felt in a relationship through her repetition of the hook, while also including an intricate bridge. The lyrical standout on the album, Clean, legitimizes the record as more than a collection of ear-worms, discussing a painful breakup through a metaphor that compares it to addiction. “10 months sober,” she confesses that “just because [she’s] clean [doesn’t] mean [she doesn’t] miss it,” and on this bittersweet track, she demonstrates that finding closure cannot necessarily be equated to healing.

1989 contains its fair share of breakup songs, all written from different perspectives on presumably the same relationship. For instance, the bitter “All You Had to Do Was Stay” contrasts “I Wish You Would” and “How You Get The Girl,” both of which summarize the common desire for an ex to come back into one’s life with a romantic gesture straight out of a movie. In “Wonderland” she reflects on a past relationship, comparing it to “Alice in Wonderland,” using metaphors about falling down a rabbit-hole and Cheshire Cat smiles. Of course, her recently released vault tracks cannot be ignored, and several of them shed light on the parts of her relationships that she kept concealed at the time of the album’s original release. In “Say Don’t Go” Swift heart-wrenchingly begs the subject of the song to grant her the same importance in his life and she has given him in hers. Likewise, in the instant classic “Is it Over Now?” Swift ties the whole album together by explaining that the several breakups and romances depicted throughout the record were actually just one never-ending story between two people who could not stay apart.

While the album does contain several songs about heartbreak, on the other hand, it is also overwhelmingly romantic, as Swift begins for the first time to view love as nuanced and complicated, rather than taking the black and white approach she used in the past. For example, in the glamorous “Style,” she refers to the same relationship “[coming] back every time” despite rumors of infidelity and her better judgment. Similarly, in “Wildest Dreams” Swift acknowledges openly that she knows the relationship will not work in the long term, but gives in to the hedonistic urge to continue down a path that will ultimately lead to disaster. The ethereal vault track “Sl*t!” also touches on this sentiment, depicting a love that serves as a haven from public scrutiny and describing how “the sticks and stones they throw froze midair.” “I Know Places” expands upon the idea of invasive media, as she promises her love that they can escape the paparazzi hunting them.

Likewise, “This Love” proves once again Swift’s ability to discern between flaws and failures in a relationship as she sings that “this love is good” and “this love is bad.” While this seems like an oversimplification of a greater situation, in reality, it is exactly as earnest and complex as is necessary. Swift continuously depicts this complicated relationship through an honest lens, admitting to both her own mistakes and his faults. While this might not exactly be the most healthy perspective, what’s a better time to be self-destructive in your relationships than your 20s? However, Swift includes one paradigm of healthy, ideal romance on 1989, called “You Are In Love,” proving that she is still a dreamer at heart and reminding listeners of what the real standard for love is beyond the push and pull of the relationship described throughout the rest of the album.

The most special thing about 1989 to me is that although it discusses love, heartbreak, friends, and enemies, the core of the album is centered around Swift herself and her growth as an individual. 1989 is about freedom, youth, energy, and hope, encapsulating perfectly the experience of being a young woman in a new city with endless possibilities of success and happiness. In “New Romantics,” Swift concludes that despite the fact that “life is just a classroom” and “heartbreak is the national anthem,” she and everyone else just like her are “too busy dancing to get knocked off [their] feet.” 1989, an album about change, independence, self-discovery, and taking control over one’s own life serves as the greatest reminder that “the best people in life are free.”

 

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.

Amid criticism about her “multitude” of boyfriends, the Kanye West VMAs scandal, and ongoing accusations that she wasn’t “pulling her weight” in songwriting sessions, Taylor Swift was crafting her third studio album, Speak Now. Her response to the doubters? Writing the album entirely on her own and holding nothing back. As she put it in a promotional video, “[t]his time, [she’s] naming names.”

In contrast to the wide-eyed idealism she displayed in both Debut and Fearless, in Speak Now, Swift is wiser, jaded, and thoroughly disenchanted. Among the lyrical highlights of this record, the song “Dear John” stands out in her discography as one of her most caustic songs, sharing her experiences as a 19-year-old in a relationship with “an expert at sorry and keeping lines blurry” but reminding him that she “took his matches before fire could catch [her].” Her tone is wounded but triumphant, and she turns to vengeance as opposed to her typical strategy of wallowing. This spite is most evident in “Better Than Revenge,” where Swift vows to retaliate against a girl who she believes wronged her. Swift is authentically herself on this record, flourishing her intelligence and resilience, but also her pettiness, making the album feel that much more authentically “teenage.”

Swift also proves with this record, however, that she has retained her ability to dream despite the challenges she has faced. Songs like “Mine,” “Timeless,” and “Enchanted” romanticize imaginary relationships and trivial encounters with strangers, transforming them into magical tales. In “I Can See You,” “Superman,” “Ours,” and “Sparks Fly,” she muses about idealized love interests, and in the title track “Speak Now,” she even playfully ponders a scenario where – as a gesture of unbridled romance – she interrupts an ex’s wedding in order to win him over again.

Despite her veil of vindictiveness, Swift is heartbroken and vulnerable from the failed relationships depicted in the album. In “The Story of Us” and “Haunted” she expresses her frustration and her confusion in the aftermath of a breakup, summarizing perfectly the feelings of so many people in the same position. Unlike her previous work, “Last Kiss,” which is arguably one of her most moving songs ever, contains no hope or begrudging optimism; rather, with shaky breaths and a quivering voice, she simply delivers a lament to the man whose name is “forever the name on her lips.” In the song “Back to December,” she even goes as far as crafting a heartfelt apology taking responsibility for ending a good relationship and asking for forgiveness. This maturity is carried over to “Innocent,” the most frequently overlooked track on the album but also one of my personal favorites, in which she does the seemingly impossible and grants Kanye West her forgiveness for his actions at the VMAs. With this song, she proves that she is still the kind-hearted version of herself that people grew to love when she first rose to stardom.

The thesis of this album is undeniably from the closing track of the original record, “Long Live,” dedicated exclusively to her fans, in which she sings “[l]ong live all the mountains we moved / I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you.” From the fairytale imagery of battling mythical figures to the realism of acknowledging the struggles she has overcome, she attributes her success to the people who supported her through it all. Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) is an album of angst, growth, tragedy, fury, vindication, and above all: gratitude.

Before performing her song “Fearless” for the first time, while it was still technically unreleased, Taylor Swift introduced it as a story about “the best first date [she hadn’t had] yet.” The song went on to become the title track of her sophomore album and the introduction to her series of rerecordings.

With the familiar drum kick and intro melody to the album Fearless (Taylor’s Version), the instrumentals conjure up images of sparkly guitars, sequined dresses, wild curly hair, girls spinning in the rain, and hearts made with hands 🫶. Swift has built her career, and most recently her Eras Tour, by marketing certain motifs through the aesthetics of each album, and Fearless was her first experimentation with this ultimately incredibly effective concept.

Even upon listening to this record for the first time, it radiates nostalgia and unbridled optimism. Swift arguably found success as a young songwriter with little experience because despite leaning towards autobiography, she’s always had the capacity to daydream; Fearless is an album centered around those daydreams. Her song “Today Was a Fairytale” embodies this starry-eyed idealism, depicting yet another imaginary perfect day, which is seen again in her first real hit, “Love Story.” “Hey Stephen” serves as a love letter to a boy who “look[s] like an angel,” in which Swift reminds him that “all those other girls, well, they’re beautiful / But would they write a song for [him]?” With Fearless, Swift projects every facet of her idealized personality into her music; she’s cheeky, witty, trusting, empowered, and willingly donning her rose-colored glasses.

Of course, the record isn’t all unbridled joy and fantasy – ballads like “Breathe,” “White Horse,” and “You’re Not Sorry,” are among the album’s most harrowing songs. Once again embodying the relatable teenage girl, Swift discusses heartbreak from friends and relationships; however, the distinguishable quality in almost all of these tracks is that despite her dejection, the takeaway of the song still highlights some form of self-efficacy and independence. In “White Horse,” particularly, Swift expresses her confidence that she will “find someone someday who might actually treat [her] well,” and similarly in “Fifteen” she emphasizes the importance of self-discovery despite the setbacks that might occur due to heartbreak.  Swift demonstrates her lyricism more subtly on this album, stringing together complex verses, like in the outro of “The Other Side of the Door” and between the nuances in “The Way I Loved You.”  The conclusion of the original album and the heart of the rerecorded Fearless (Taylor’s Version), the song “Change” reminds listeners that they can overcome any setback and further bolsters her messages of resilience and faith.

As for me, Fearless is usually my go-to happy album for sunny days in May. Classics like “You Belong with Me” never fail to lift my mood, and “Mr. Perfectly Fine” often seems like the perfect choice to scream in the car with friends. With Fearless, Swift paired her own self-discovery with her burgeoning imagination, creating a timeless record with the capacity to captivate listeners in both 2009 and 2021.

Taylor Swift’s self-titled debut album often appears at the bottom of rankings and as the target of harsh criticism that compares the record to those that followed it. While I agree that the album Taylor Swift, or as I’ll refer to it here, Debut, might not equate to Swift’s more recent work, it has its own merit as the album that launched her career into the phenomenon it is today.

As I sat down to listen again to the album that made me a lifelong fan of Taylor Swift, what struck me most was the vulnerability in her vocals and lyrics. Swift has everything to prove with this record, and she does not hold back, establishing immediately her validity as a country singer despite being a 16-year-old girl from Pennsylvania who had only moved to Nashville a few years before. In the opening track, “Tim McGraw,” she makes a bold demand in a fake but convincing country accent, asking her listeners to associate her with the country legend and namesake of the song. She details her starry blue eyes and her faded blue jeans, then continues to shed light onto who she is with the songs that follow.

Throughout this album, Swift features several facets of her character through different songs, displaying vengeance and pettiness in “Picture to Burn” and “Should’ve Said No” and assuming the role of the scorned girlfriend. In “Teardrops on My Guitar” and “Invisible,” she depicts heartbreak as a result of unrequited love, and she’s unapologetically joyful in songs like “Our Song” and “I’m Only Me When I’m With You.” While these tracks are the most acclaimed on the album and can certainly be considered relatable, I don’t believe they’re the reason why so many people found comfort in Swift’s music with Debut.

It’s songs like “Mary’s Song,” which depicts a romance that lasts a lifetime and growing old together that truly captures the hearts of the audience, and “Cold As You,” which recounts how someone “put up walls” around her just to “paint them all a shade of gray.” Perhaps one of her most mature songs ever, “Stay Beautiful” requests that the subject continues to be the version of himself that Swift loves even if she can’t have him. “Tied Together With a Smile” and “The Outside” appeal to those who hide behind strength or perfectionism with the hope that someone will truly see them, and Taylor Swift does just that.

In “A Place in This World,” Swift uses the lyric that I think summarizes the record and brings us back to that idea of vulnerability: “I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve / Feeling lucky today, got the sunshine / Could you tell me what more do I need?”

Swift exemplifies the complexity of the average girl going through self-discovery that is typically undermined, and she does it proudly in front of the whole world. Every girl can see her own diary in Taylor Swift’s debut album; what makes it special is that Swift published hers.

My first idea for my passion blog is, of course, related to Taylor Swift. Since she has ten albums and there are ten blogging weeks, I plan to analyze each album and its overall impact and message. This includes breaking down her lyricism, which is widely considered her greatest strength as an artist, but also the production, visuals/music videos, and publicity attached to each album. In addition to identifying what I think are the highlights and shortfalls of each album, I hope to pick a thesis that summarizes the record and dig beneath the surface level lyrics in order to debunk the myth that she only writes about her ex-boyfriends.

Another idea that I had was to attend a different event that is offered on campus each week in order to create a kind of guide about life at Penn State. This could include popular events like football games but also watching performances put on by theatre groups and eating at restaurants downtown that I’ve never heard of before. Basically, it would include all of the opportunities that I wish I knew about right now, and as a bonus, it would push me to get out of my comfort zone.