I’ll start by saying what a thousand think-pieces and reviews have spent bloated word counts tiptoeing around: Taylor Swift’s new album, 1989, is good. Like, really good. Not great, per se, but certainly much better than most well-adjusted adults would argue a T-Swizzle album has any right to be.
Coming off the heels of the commercially successful but wildly inconsistent Red, Swift’s newest LP is a confident and carefully constructed synthesis of everything that makes her brand of YA sugary-sweet pop irresistible. There are even moments where she hints at a broader, more versatile talent, one which could eventually propel her to Madonnaesque levels of superstardom — that is, if she isn’t there already.
The album falters a little at the start — the opening track “Welcome to New York” might be the most half-baked and grating of the bunch — but quickly picks up speed. The cheeky electropop of “Blank Space” and the cheesy synth party of “Style” (get it? Style?) lead into the career high of “Out of the Woods,” which turns several Swiftian tropes on their heads — the star crossed lovers, the nerdy girl who gets the guy, the diaristic specificity — along with what might be her strongest hook since “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.”
Admittedly, 1989 is a little front-loaded; there are several more memorable tracks peppered throughout the 13-song tracklist (in particular, sombre album closer “Clean” and unashamed earworm “Shake It Off”), but others, like the maudlin “How You Get the Girl,” feel a bit like retreads, as though Swift is afraid to alienate her country-fried fanbase through her aims for worldwide pop domination. They’re not necessarily weak songs, but they miss the high bar set by the album’s series of high caliber singles.
It’s a shame, because so much of 1989 is funnier, weirder, and more creative than anything Swift has ever done. As much as she’s living up to her own standards, she’s also subverting them — songs that would have read as straight faced five years ago come across as tongue in cheek here. Not every idea lands, but that she’s willing to try at all is more than enough to convert staunch nonbelievers.
My advice to those who hate Taylor Swift is this: you probably don’t. You just think you do. 1989 is the kind of album where you’re bound to find something you like — there’s so much energy and vitality in these songs, so much willingness to make it all work, that it’s hard not to nod along and take Swift’s hand no matter where she takes you. The haters gonna hate, hate, hate.
