Taylor Swift has always been one step ahead of the rest of us.
With her tenth studio album 鈥淢idnights,鈥 Swift rifles through the pages of her personal life like a scrapbook, giggling at inside jokes and revelling in the creative choices that propelled her to stardom over a decade ago.
But inside that scrapbook lies real pain, too. It seems Swift might not love her mega-celebrity status or its cast over her relationships. The eating disorder to which she alluded in her 2020 documentary 鈥淢iss Americana鈥 might have been more significant than was ever made public. She might still be feeling the sting of 2016鈥檚 #TaylorSwiftIsOverParty.
In 13 tracks, 鈥淢idnights鈥 explores the no-man鈥檚-land between the glitter of a budding romance and the grime of a life shaped by speculation. Sonically, Swift鈥檚 revisited production elements which on previous records felt inauthentic to her songwriting 鈥 here, they鈥檙e right at home. The hip-hop reverb of 鈥淩eputation鈥 has matured into a softer lo-fi; 鈥淟over鈥濃檚 soft pop has crystallized into something sexier, with controlled vocal fry to match; the poetic storytelling which made 鈥淔olklore鈥 feel like such a departure for Swift has continued and even strengthened.
And then come the bonus tracks 鈥 because Swift is always plotting. Dubbed the 鈥3AM鈥 songs, they鈥檙e an extra seven tunes which, according to Swift, were written during the 鈥淢idnights鈥 sessions but scrapped from the 13-track concept album. Though 鈥淢idnights鈥 was officially released at 12 a.m. on Oct. 21, the 鈥3AM鈥 B-side was, you guessed it, released to the hounds just three hours later. Swift teased the move as a 鈥渃haotic surprise鈥 on social media, but the album鈥檚 unmarketed back half thrillingly complements its openers. Here, 鈥淔olklore鈥 collaborator Aaron Dessner rejoins buds Swift and producer Jack Antonoff, and suddenly we鈥檙e back in a more alternative sonic wonderland, trawling through memories of late-stage girlhood with bite, poise and iridescent synth.
In short, 鈥淢idnights鈥 might be the best album of Swift鈥檚 discography.
This image released by Republic Records shows “Midnights” by Taylor Swift.
Republic Records via APIt鈥檚 going to be divisive. Swift and her team marketed the bejeezus out of this record 鈥 as well they should. But the aesthetic wafted in front of fans鈥 noses (and credit cards) seemed to promise an oh-so-trendy retro album, dripping in 鈥70s colours and props. In the absence of a lead single, Swifties, preordered vinyls in hand, could daydream about what sound was waiting for them at midnight on Oct. 21 鈥 and it was reasonable to imagine that, given the marketing, they were in for an ABBA/Fleetwood Mac-style romp through 13 stories of midnights past.
What we have here is very, very good 鈥 it鈥檚 as pleasant a surprise as false advertising can be 鈥 but if you were waiting for a throwback nostalgia record, this isn鈥檛 it.
Except, well, maybe it is 鈥 it鈥檚 a nostalgia for everything that makes Swift the deity she鈥檚 become, a slide show of Swift at her most irreverent throughout the years. It鈥檚 unapologetic lyrics about cats; it鈥檚 sparkly dresses and razor-sharp eyeliner wings; it鈥檚 pointed commentary on influencer culture (鈥淪ometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby and I鈥檓 a monster on the hill,鈥 croons Swift on 鈥淎nti-Hero鈥). Vocally, Swift sounds great, and her musical hooks are ready to explode on TikTok 鈥 鈥淎nti-Hero鈥 may not have been a lead single, but it could have been, a pop anthem that feels like the cool, clove-cigarette-smoking older sister of 鈥1989鈥濃檚 鈥淏lank Space.鈥
What prevails on 鈥淢idnights鈥 is Swift鈥檚 maturity, the removedness with which she gazes upon younger versions of herself. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e On Your Own Kid,鈥 the newest member of Swift鈥檚 infamous roster of scorched-earth Track Fives, peels back the layers on a deeply insecure former self 鈥 鈥淚 hosted parties and starved my body,鈥 Swift tells us with regret. 鈥淕ive me back my girlhood, it was mine first,鈥 she pleads to a much older ex-lover on 鈥淲ould鈥檝e, Could鈥檝e, Should鈥檝e.鈥
That maturity, too, is bolstered by campy, who-gives-a-damn-as-long-as-I鈥檓-having-fun storytelling. 鈥淚 have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money,鈥 Swift says with a wink on 鈥淎nti-Hero.鈥 鈥淜arma is a cat purring in my lap 鈥榗ause it loves me, flexing like a goddamn acrobat,鈥 she gloats on 鈥淜arma.鈥 These lyrics are Swift at her most indulgent, fleeting glimpses of Swift at a dinner party or mimosa-soaked brunch. Goofiness doesn鈥檛 bog down the album: it humanizes it.
鈥淔olklore鈥 and its sister 鈥淓vermore鈥 were a pivot for Swift, two introspective strands of a self shoehorned into isolation. The re-recordings of 鈥淔earless鈥 and 鈥淩ed鈥 which followed were echoes of youth, re-hashings of adolescent neuroses and triumphs and crushes and nerves.
Here, introspection and remorse join forces with intoxicating pop sensibilities. 鈥淢idnights鈥 is Swift at her coolest and most confident, and she鈥檚 without a doubt grown up since the country-pop battle cries which framed her early work. But Swift is done hiding from the inaccessibility of her fame, the singularity of her demons, the publicity of her most vulnerable years. With 鈥淢idnights鈥 comes an endearing fondness for the carousel of former selves which got Swift to where she is today, even for those selves which self-sabotaged or made imprecise creative choices.
鈥淓verything you lose is a step you take 鈥 you have no reason to be afraid,鈥 Swift sings to a younger Taylor on 鈥淵ou鈥檙e On Your Own, Kid.鈥
And she鈥檚 right. 鈥淢idnights鈥 proves that the music was worth the hard parts.
Aisling Murphy is a Toronto-based general assignment reporter for the Star. Reach her via email: aislingmurphy@thestar.ca
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