Media Boat Thoughts: The Tortured Poets Department + The Anthology – Taylor Swift

A friend asked me a tough question last week: “Is Taylor Swift’s music actually that good, or are the fans just convincing themselves that it is?” I was unsure how to answer that.

She asked me this on the night of Thursday, April 18th, minutes before The Tortured Poets Department was unleashed on music streaming services worldwide. Needless to say, this friend is not a Swiftie; she went on to clarify that she has no real opinion, positive or negative, on Taylor’s music. After enduring the last few days of discussion and disorder, that now seems like an enviable position.

The Tortured Poets Department, Taylor Swift’s eleventh studio album, can be at best described as “divisive.” If you’ve followed her as long as I have, this isn’t necessarily new for her music—consider the critical reaction to reputation in 2017, to Lover in 2019, or even 2022’s Midnights, although to a lesser extent (a Grammy for Album of the Year may complicate that sentiment). As her first true new music following the record-breaking and culture-dominating Eras Tour, TTPD was always going to be subject to higher scrutiny than her previous projects. However, I don’t think anyone anticipated just how much the album would be in conversation with the monolithic image she now projects. The album raises a lot of questions: Is it difficult being Taylor Swift? Are her fans too quick to judge? Is true love immune to public criticism? I personally don’t think the music here answers any of this definitively, but it certainly tries.

There’s a lot to cover, so I’ve decided to divide this post into two parts, just like Taylor’s own TTPD: The Anthology: One part where I try to focus on what’s being presented (the music), and a second where I try to determine how it warps or changes the perception of who Taylor is in our culture. Bear with me, I just have a lot of thoughts about this thing!

Part I: The Tortured Poets Department, or: She cries a lot, but she’s so productive

I liked Midnights a lot. I felt that Taylor was attempting to meld the verbose lyrical structure of folklore and evermore with the pop sensibility and production of Lover, and it mostly succeeded. Jack Antonoff has taken a lot of heat for his approach on her last few records, but I sincerely believe that the synthy soundscapes he’s created are beautifully layered, textured, and complimentary to Taylor’s voice. Unlike some fans and critics, I don’t believe that he is holding her hostage in any way with the kind of sounds they make; Taylor is in control in these sessions, and I’m sure she would be the first to object if these songs started sounding stagnant.

The Tortured Poets Department sounds a lot like Midnights at first blush, so the same talking points have been trotted out again. Personally, I hear a lot of new sounds in these songs, including psychedelic guitars, military drumbeats, and the murmurs of a distant crowd. It expands the palette of Taylor’s work in some interesting ways yet doesn’t steer too far from the formula. I understand why this is frustrating for a lot of people; Taylor has been known for reinvention before (Red to 1989, Lover to folklore, etc.), and this is certainly not transformative. It is evolutionary, though, which I think deserves some credit. Some of the best songs on the core TTPD are Aaron Dessner productions anyway, so it’s unfair to criticize Antonoff for delivering a clone of the previous record.

Structurally, Taylor continues to deliver when it comes to big, spine-chilling climaxes. Though there’s nothing on the record that reaches the highs of “All Too Well,” “Cruel Summer,” or “champagne problems,” there are still some astounding bridges and several earworm choruses. The trance-like opener “Fortnight” recruits Post Malone’s penchant for solid, circular hooks, and “But Daddy I Love Him” evokes Country Taylor with its sweeping momentum. Personal favorites include the staccato “Down Bad” and The 1975-aping “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart.” The latter is especially satisfying, full of energetic electronica and a wild, jarring conclusion. It’s adventurous in a way that I wasn’t expecting from an album as bitter and dour as this one.

Which brings us to the lyrics, which are the star of the show—for better and for worse. I’m not going to name names here, but if there’s a song you think might be about someone in particular, you’re probably right. There are a lot of lyrics about a certain relationship that was just as passionate as it was short-lived, and it creates a stormy atmosphere of uncertainty throughout. “Fortnight” establishes the players, some songs discuss the relationship itself (“The Tortured Poets Department,” “Down Bad”), others the public’s reaction (“But Daddy I Love Him,” “Guilty as Sin?”), and some the aftermath (“I Can Do It With a Broken Heart,” “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived”). The back and forth of it all comes across as overwhelming and concerning. A lot of what happens in these songs sounds miserable, even when love’s in bloom. The kind of love Taylor (or Taylor’s narrator—we’ll return to that later) is depicting here is dangerous at worst and unhealthy at best.

The conceit of the title and much of the marketing of TTPD dwells on poetry. “The Tortured Poets” of the title doesn’t refer to Taylor herself, but is a reference to the name of a group chat shared by a certain ex-boyfriend of hers. I personally think this is borne out by the material itself; it’s less about Taylor writing poetically and more about the kind of affectations someone who ironically refers to themselves as a “tortured poet” would have. Sure, she still relies on metaphor and referencing smarty-pants subjects like Dylan Thomas, Aristotle, and Hollywood it-girl Clara Bow, but she’s just writing like Taylor, not inserting herself into a poetic timeline.

Overall, I feel more conflicted about the lyrics than the music. I found a lot to like texturally, but I was less captured by the storytelling than before. I think a lot of this has to do with the subject matter—this is not pleasant stuff! But if Taylor’s intent is to bring us into her depressive zone, she’s succeeded. I can probably count on one hand the times a particular line impressed me, which might be a first. Thankfully, I like enough of the vibes of these songs where this isn’t a compromising issue, but judging by the reaction, your mileage may severely vary.

Oh, and there are also fifteen bonus tracks? While many of the songs on TTPD: The Anthology are compelling in their own right (“So High School” has a 90’s alt rock feeling that I absolutely love), but retread a lot of the same ground as the proper tracks. They also largely hew to evermore’s sonic palette, which may excite some and bore others. I’ve found myself preferring the main album.

If I sound ambivalent, it’s just because Taylor has created an album that sometimes feels difficult to listen to. When there’s happiness, it feels fleeting. When there’s love, it’s complicated. It creates a foggy atmosphere that even the strongest, catchiest bridge can’t shine through. Does that mean it’s bad? I don’t think so. There’s a lot here to like, but you might have to withstand the darkness to enjoy the light.

Part II: The Anthology, or: Thoughts from a viper dressed in empath’s clothing

So, is Taylor Swift okay? I mean, it’s not really our business—except when it comes to Taylor, it might be. Recently, writer and actor Tavi Gevinson, former founder of the now-defunct teen lifestyle magazine Rookie, wrote a zine called Fan Fiction that delves into this very question. Split into three parts, the piece starts with a (great) cultural analysis of Taylor’s career, continues with a semi-fictional account of their (real, yet brief) friendship, and ends with an imagined letter exchange where they share mutual apologies for drifting apart. The zine’s main thesis is that despite building an image in which she appears relatable, accessible, and gracious, we as fans will never truly know Taylor well enough to be friends with her. Taylor, or as Tavi specifies, Taylor’s narrator, is a storyteller first, real person second, regardless of how blurry she allows that line to get. Parasocial relationships can feel real, especially with the modern pop era’s emphasis on “the fans” and the power they wield, but it’s healthy to remember that these are distant stars in a distant galaxy that we only see from afar. Reading it early last week, I appreciated how accurately it described how Taylor has manufactured a fan empire that often oversteps its bounds. Little did I know that this narrative was about to get even more complicated.

“But Daddy I Love Him” is Taylor’s first tip on TTPD that she might be growing bitter towards the fans she’s previously held so dear. It’s easy to read the “Sarahs and Hannahs” who disapprove of her relationship as a reference to the vocal outrage over her tryst with The 1975’s Matty Healy (so much for not naming names!). In case you missed it, here’s the Long Story Short™: Taylor was seen close to Matty in several photos, many of them leaving each other’s apartments. Fans dug up some awful “jokes” Matty made on a podcast about Ice Spice. Fans continued to point out Matty’s general “edgelord” behavior and scummy vibe. Eventually, the two break up and Taylor collaborates with Ice Spice on the “Karma” remix. Got it? Good. Well, up until this album’s release, it was easy to assume Taylor figured out who Matty was and bailed. TTPD tells a more nuanced version.

Apparently, Taylor was “Down Bad.” I suppose we shouldn’t be too shocked; after all she “makes the bad guys good for a weekend,” “knew (he) was trouble when (he) walked in,” and had to have the guy who “look(ed) like bad news.” Here she talks about their relationship as mutually destructive, brief, and devastating in its resolution. Again, the most notable aspect of these accounts is her reaction to the outcry. “But Daddy I Love Him” refers to her critics as “sanctimonious” and “judgmental,” saying that her “good name” is “(hers) alone to disgrace.” Most damningly, she says those who judge her are “vipers dressed in empath’s clothing.” Ouch.

Taylor has had a history of calling out her detractors (“Mean,” “The Man”) but directing her vitriol to her fans feels like a risky move. Matty Healy did say some objectively terrible things. Taylor seems to be aware of his misanthropic tendencies, as she mentions them a few times in TTPD’s lyrics (“all [his] indecent exposures”), and yet seems to be so in love with him she’s willing to endure the criticism. “Guilty as Sin?” addresses this in its bridge, where Taylor sings “What if I roll the stone away / they’re gonna crucify me anyway.” This all paints a picture of Taylor deciding, fatefully, that regardless of what kind of man Matty is now or always was, she was going to be on the record that loving him was important, and “fuck it if (she) can’t have him.”

The move is just as humanizing as it is alienating. Taylor’s never been so willing to throw herself under the bus like this, so it feels raw for her. That said, it also makes the image she’s cultivated—the talented, yet down-to-earth girl next door—feel as if it’s been warped. She does a pretty good job describing this feeling in “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?,” a challenging song that uses “the circus life” and “the asylum” as metaphors for the cage of her own fame. The bridge paints a picture of an artist who’s become bitter from the whole ordeal: “I’m always drunk on my own tears, isn’t that what they all said? / That I’ll sue you if you step on my lawn / That I’m fearsome and I’m wretched and I’m wrong / Put narcotics into all of my songs / And that’s why you’re still singin’ along.” It’s an uncomfortable listening experience, where we just have to sit and listen while our idol tells us why we’re out of line.

So Taylor wants to be adored, but Taylor wants to be left alone. This is a classic narrative in pop music, dating back to Michael Jackson’s paranoid HIStory and perhaps even further back. She’s the biggest pop star on the planet, but feels as if she’s performing a version of herself that doesn’t exist. This is the premise of “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart,” which I can’t listen to without picturing her exquisitely choreographed Eras Tour. Was she really miserable? When she thanked her fans profusely, was that genuine? TTPD opens a can of worms that I’m not sure she can ever seal.

“Clara Bow,” the final track of the initial release, reframes this rage as a universal caveat of fame: “It’s hell on Earth to be heavenly / Them’s the breaks, they don’t come gently.”  She places herself in a legacy of women under relentless public analysis, including the titular Clara Bow, Stevie Nicks, and in a stroke of fourth-wall breaking brilliance, herself. “You look like Taylor Swift in this light, we’re lovin’ it / You’ve got edge, she never did / the future’s bright, dazzling.” You can hear the Taylor from “Nothing New” here, weeping quietly while the next big thing takes her place.

Ultimately, The Tortured Poets Department and its Anthology is an ambitious, but conflicted piece of art. It’s not pop enough for the people who want Pop Taylor. It’s not folk enough for the people who want folklore Taylor. It’s too honest for the superfans, but too artificial to be seen as “real.” It’s not poetic enough for the poets and it’s not accessible enough to the uninitiated. It appears to exist as only the art that Taylor needed to create. So, to answer my friend’s question that I posed at the beginning: Yes, many fans will love it out of sheer momentum, but a handful may start to wonder if their parasocial, yet visceral relationship is sustainable.