Coming off her record-breaking Eras Tour, Taylor Swift’s newest record “The Life of a Showgirl” promised glitz, glam and spectacle — yet somehow delivers the opposite. The cover depicts Swift lying in a bathtub, draped in crystals. It’s easy to focus on the sparkles and ignore the wider context: the post-show decompression. The album takes a self aware look at Swift’s 20-year career, addressing missteps along the way and hopes for the future.
“The Life of a Showgirl” couldn’t be more different from Swift’s last extended release, “THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT: THE ANTHOLOGY.” Following the latter’s 31 songs of melodramatic heartbreak, Swift carefully curated a lean 12-track album. This record proves Swift knows exactly who she is right now — and what she wants to say.
The record also marks a triumphant pop return with former collaborators Max Martin and Shellback, who wrote and produced several tracks on “1989,” released 2014, and “reputation,” released 2017. Together, they capture lightning in a bottle with the album’s production, creating instant earworms like the lead single, “The Fate of Ophelia.” Set to an infectious drum beat and a groovy bass, Swift twists the fate of the Shakespearean heroine, singing that she “might’ve drowned in the melancholy” until a new love pulled her out.
Swift’s wit and humor are the real stars of the album’s prose. The controversial “Actually Romantic” turns a rumored feud with pop singer Charli xcx into a nonchalant rebuttal, dismissing the subject’s apparent hatred for her as “funny valentines” from a “toy chihuahua.” In “Wood,” she plays on double entendres and superstition to create a cheeky love song about how she “ain’t got to knock on wood” anymore to manifest a forever romance, while simultaneously joking explicitly about her partner’s strengths: “Redwood tree, it ain’t hard to see / His love was the key that opened my thighs.”
For those who miss Swift’s poetic prose, traces of her folklorian lyricism remain. In the album’s title track, she reflects on sacrifices made throughout her career: “I paid my dues with every bruise, I knew what to expect.” In “Ruin The Friendship,” she paints a particularly vivid picture of a small-town Tennessee road: “Glistening grass from September rain / Gray overpass full of neon names.”
Where the album falters is Swift’s use of internet language. The choice falls particularly flat in track five, “Eldest Daughter,” conflicting familial pressures with public fame. Phrases like “But I’m not a bad bitch / And this isn’t savage” sorely stick out in an otherwise well-written song, undermining its profoundness. Still, its bridge stands out amidst the beginning’s poor lyricism, with Swift singing: “A beautiful, beautiful time-lapse / Ferris wheels, kisses, and lilacs,” reflecting on the love she never thought she would be able to find.
Swift’s sleek storytelling is what stands out most on the album, weaving tales of struggling showgirls, Shakespearean figures and suburban dreams. This shines especially in “Father Figure,” an interpolation of George Michael’s classic reframed as a story of grooming in the music industry. Her lower register takes center stage as she shifts between roles of a mentor and naive protege, exploring how the dynamic can become toxic quickly: “Mistake my kindness for weakness and find your card cancelled.”
Swift also doesn’t hesitate to get personal in the record, especially regarding her public romance with football star Travis Kelce. In “Wi$h Li$t,” she dreams about a quiet life away from the public eye: “I just want you, huh / Have a couple kids, got the whole block looking like you.” The sentiment is sweeter knowing she was proposed to hours after announcing the album on Kelce’s “New Heights” podcast.
On the last track of the album, the artist acknowledges the people “who wish I’d hurry up and die,” remarking that she’s “immortal now, baby dolls / I couldn’t if I tried.” After two decades of reinvention, cancellations and reclaiming her work, Swift knows she won’t please everyone. And that’s perfectly fine — she knows exactly who she is, and “The Life of a Showgirl” reclaims that truth in a beautifully unapologetic way.
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