Taylor Swift Confronts Herself on ‘Midnights’
Whether a problem, mastermind or anti-hero, Taylor gets personal on this late-night dive into herself.
The tenth studio album from Taylor Swift, Midnights, is a record that strives to reflect rather than reinvent. Written with a ‘Scrolling through the last four years of your camera roll with a half-consumed bottle of wine in hand’ kind of flair, Midnights is an audacious experience — at its best, sounding like a late-night drive through a neon-lit city with the rain pelleting against your windshield — boldly taking Taylor Swift into a distinctly daring sonic territory.
Ultimately, the ‘Midnights’ experience depends on how well listeners can resonate with Swift’s vivid and precise storytelling — to her credit, Swift achieves moments of brilliance pretty soon in the album’s opening stages. The brooding bass of Lavender Haze adds intensity to the frustration she details with the constant scrutiny she endures from social media (and the press) regarding her love life. (“All they keep asking me / Is if I’m gonna be your bride / The only kinda girl they see / Is a one-night or a wife”)
Addressing rumours surrounding her private life is nothing new for the country-turned-pop superstar. Swift finds themes of romance, confidence and reflection amplified with the dark sonic demeanour most of the tracks carry. They can start softly before erupting into a frenzied alt-pop soundscape on You’re On Your Own, Kid, a painfully moving experience of unrequited love. Or it can hum with a sense of foreboding on Maroon, a sharp reminder of Swift’s sharp songwriting capabilities as she engrossingly uses the colour palette of blushing cheeks and spilt wine to reminisce on the scale of powerful emotions associated with a relationship.
The crux of this theme of reflection lies in Anti-Hero, an insecure-laden highlight guiding listeners through Swift’s troubled depictions of herself and how she is portrayed. “I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror” is a particularly poignant line casting Swift at her most sincere and vulnerable.
Where this nocturnal sound often delivers the best moments on Midnights, it’s a shame she struggles to embrace it fully. Swimming back to familiar territory with the palatable pop stylings of Bejeweled, (a confident “I’m That Bitch” anthem for people not allowed to say “bitch”), it’s an inessential moment that feels more fitting for her now eight-year-old record, 1989. Perhaps its most eye-roll-inducing moments lay with Karma and Vigilante Shit — the former, a blend of some clever and equally cringe-worthy wordplay (“Karma is a cat / Purring in my lap ’cause it loves me”). The latter attempts to cosplay as Billie Eilish with reverberating synths and droning vocals, trying its darndest to inflict intimidation but has as much edge as a butter knife.
Patchy as these moments are, they don’t pull focus from an otherwise robust tracklist. Labyrinth and Sweet Nothing are soft and sweet, delivering ethereal moments of heavenly bliss, while Snow On The Beach chills listeners with its wintry alt-pop/folk soundscape and sultry, whisper vocals from Taylor and an ever-so-subtle appearance from Lana Del Rey.
When Midnights is most successful, Swift guides us into uncharted waters with elegantly ethereal productions which work to enhance her confessional and insecure songwriting. One can express disappointment that songs feel too familiar sonically as Swift struggles to venture out of her comfort zone enough to make this a record that could rival similar angst-ridden classics like Lorde’s Melodrama. It is nonetheless an ambitious and evocative record from one of Pop’s most provocative voices — bound to bring comfort to those battling the worst parts of themselves in the after-hours.
