The positives and negatives of solipsism in pop
Taylor Swift – Lover (Republic, 2019)
Every Taylor Swift album is a statement record by way of the space she occupies in the culture. As fans are continually fractured into personalized niches, Swift is one of a handful of acts to still command a formidable pop presence. She’s been aware of this fact since Kanyegate, and that self-awareness got the better of her on Reputation. This return to form, however, has some of her most ergonomic songs and re-establishes what made her a juggernaut — an elite sense of melody and an ability to articulate the verisimilitude of her mega-star-as-every-girl presentation. Regarding the former, the Anne Clark co-write “Cruel Summer,” the euphoric “You Need to Calm Down” and Brendon Urie marred “ME!” are instant bangers on first listen (although I still wish she’d stop singing about the big bad meanies on Twitter). While the naysayers are right to nitpick her wobbly attempts at allyship, I suspect they fail to mention “Soon You’ll Get Better,” wherein her mother’s cancer diagnosis could be a get-well card for any family stricken by a sudden illness. I also suspect they missed the opening number, a not-so-subtle middle finger anyone can sing to any ex for any damn reason they please. Even the class conscious “Paper Rings” works. Not necessarily because I believe a multi-millionaire like Swift would except any ordinary engagement ring, but because of the exuberance of the hooks. And it’s that same exuberance that makes this record refreshing. She’s perhaps the only pop star who sees no use in being a depressive. We need her now more than ever. GRADE: A-
Taylor Swift – Reputation (Big Machine, 2017)
It was only a matter of time. Country-pop wunderkind conquers the world, ditches her guitar, glams up and graduates from the prom to stadium tours. She had been one of the five largest acts in the world for nearly a decade up to this point, employing an assembly line of pulverizing hooks to turn her tabloid love life into personal anthems for millions of young girls who could only dream of seeing John Mayer’s penis. But this album, a moody mess that relies on EDM gimmickry to a fault, isn’t concerned with utilitarianism. Rather, it’s the sound of a young woman isolated by fame, incubated by wealth and preoccupied with her KimYe Twitter beef. Her songs have always been about being Taylor Swift, but here her qualms are especially superficial and largely relevant only to the auteur. The phony femme fetale of “Look What You Made Me Do” remains D.O.A. and the Future/Ed Sheeran colab is beneath her. So what’s notable about these 15 songs to justify these 264 words? The choruses. Along with Gaga’s knack of monster jams, there’s not a pop star who breathes that routinely cranks out anthemic hooks with equal levels of heft and heart. And for all of the garish synths that don’t mesh with her pristine soprano, all the social media baggage this record comes with, I find myself routinely humming the hooks long after I’ve moved on with my day. There are good bones here. It’s her identification with status that’s the problem. As damning a condemnation of capitalism I’ve yet heard from a big-ticket pop star. GRADE: B+
Sound 'Round 