Greetings, my Swiftie countrymen. Did you think you'd gotten through a Taylor Swift album rollout without a Domerberry post? Were you assuming I'd broken free of the Faustian deal binding me to release a thousand-word essay in exchange for each new set of Taylor tunes?
If so, my friends, you were wrong — I was just slow and lazy this time.
In truth, I can't let a Taylor album pass me by without taking the chance to yap about it — and, with The Life of a Showgirl, there is much to yap about.
If I'd written this post based on my actual first-few-listens impressions, it would be a very different post than what you're going to read today. Taylor had given us a lot to get excited about before this album dropped: the visuals (the endless mother-bleeping visuals), the podcast chatter, the tracklist, even some preview lyrics. With all that taken together, I was expecting a shiny, flashy, dance-pop album. It's no secret here that I worship at the altar of Swedish hitmakers — let us not forget I flew to Sweden basically just to visit the ABBA Museum — and I expected that my boi Max Martin would, in concert with Taylor, produce a showgirl-worthy hits album for the ages.
And that's...not really what we got with this. The first thing I heard from this album, bizarrely, was "Wi$h Li$t," when it came on via shuffle in an Uber on release morning — and my prevailing reaction was, "Oh no." That one, of all tracks, I expected to be a particularly brash, fun pop number (two dollar signs in the title!), but instead it's a slow jam about suburban heterosexuality! Imagine my dismay.
The rest of the album, once I got to listen, was similarly jarring in its departure from expectations. There were songs I liked, but none were what I expected, and it took me a while to patch over that dissonance.
Today, with a week of listens under my belt, I can tell you that I do quite like the album (with a couple of notable exceptions). It's certainly not the dud that I feared it was when I first heard "Wi$h Li$t," and which some corners of the internet still seem to believe it is. It's just a record with a marketing problem — and a reminder that this era of promo photos and pre-release teasers can come with a downside if what's promised doesn't match what's delivered.
With all that discussed, it's time for my traditional rundown of Tracks For Which I Have Strong Feelings or Good Jokes. Happy reading, my friends, and happy showgirling.
The Fate of Ophelia. Good song, but, uh, little dark! Before you met famous himbo Travis Kelce, you were going to kill yourself? Feels strong to me, but hey, I guess I don't know the life of a showgirl.
Opalite. Do you hear that? It's the sound of collegiate a capella singers everywhere foaming at the mouth over the "I can bring you lo-o-ove" buildup at 3:10. You know what though? It's a great song — let the children have it. If the Undertones had sung this in Washington Hall in the early 2010s, I would've gone feral.
Eldest Daughter. LET DOWN. As an eldest daughter (factually and spiritually), this was my most anticipated song on the album, because I frankly expected it to have the swaggering energy she gave to "Father Figure" instead. Discovering that this number is in fact a sad girl ballad was the second-most depressing thing about this album.
Ruin the Friendship. And here we have the most depressing thing! I shudder to imagine what the people of O'Hare saw on my face when I figured out that the protagonist here is deceased (RIP, king). My boyfriend put it best at the end of this song when he said, in the voice of Travis Kelce, "Taylor, I'm scared. Can we go back to the songs about our dicks now?"
Also, in case there are any teenagers reading this, I have to say: This song is bad advice! The track record for high school friendships is much better than for high school sweethearts, and also, kissing someone who isn't expecting to kiss you is sexual assault! Sometimes it's okay to not do what Taylor says!
Actually Romantic. Having a nemesis is one of life's great joys, and this song knows it. Anyone who's too upset about Charli XCX to enjoy this song is allergic to fun.
Wi$h Li$t. Well, folks, we've found it: the point where I stop relating to Taylor Swift. The idea behind this number is romantic — I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings, for instance — but the delivery of it here is giving trad wife. If my options are block full of children or Real Madrid contract, sign me up for soccer camp. And leave those dollar signs out of this!
Wood. Brave statement ahead: This is the best song on the album. People really lost it when this song came out because of what a "departure" it was for the typically buttoned-up Taylor Swift, but I don't think it is! This is Taylor being horny, but in a very Taylor way. She whispers "thighs" like it's a cheeky secret. She says "the curse on me was broken by your magic wand" — a winking lyric that she would absolutely have written at 20 when she was publishing "Enchanted" and, behind closed doors, writing "I can see you up against a wall with me." On top of that, this song isn't just thirsty for the sake of it. It tells a real, lyrically consistent story: I used to rely on all these superstitions, but I don't need to anymore because I have a love story that makes its own luck. Taylor could have written this song at any point in the last 20 years; she just needed age — and a partner she trusts — to actually put it out into the world.
Yesterday alone, I probably listened to this album 10 times (thank you Taylor for hearing the criticism that TTPD was too damn long). I am grateful for new Taylor music in a year that's been slow on new albums that interest me. But, next time, I'll have to remember to not put much stock in whatever promo seems to suggest. Sometimes the girl just wants to put on hot little outfits and do a photo shoot, connections to the music of the album be damned. And you know what? That's show biz, baby.
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