It’s an eggnog-in-your-coffee sort of morning, a run-the-garbage-to-the-curb-in-your-pajamas, frosted fenceposts, ice-on-leaves, slow sunrise October dawn. As it’s Friday, I am in love with life again because I keep choosing freedom for this day, though it scarcely works like that; the idea is enough to keep the dream alive.
For some strange reason I have been reading articles on Taylor Swift’s new album, The Life of a Showgirl. A Gen X-er myself, her music generally flew under the radar, but featured prominently at girls’ birthday parties, on the radio in the car, and still a frequent request of young female voice students.
It was impossible to escape the hype, as usual. Previously I would just let it pass, but this time I thought, “Hey, I should listen to the album. It’s probably great and I’m missing out. Why not?”
Welp. I didn’t even get all the way through it. I mean, I was bopping around the kitchen to the beat, enjoying the moment – and then paused to listen to the lyrics. They aren’t all awful, some are just inane. A description I have frequently come across in the articles read and posts seen the last couple of days is “out of touch”.
It makes sense to me. She wrote and recorded the album during her grueling but fabulous Eras Tour, and my guess is she was riding the exhilaration of it all, plus experiencing a budding new romance. Nothing more inspiring! I’m sure the ideas and images for the album were flying through her mind. She had to get them out, write them down, sing and play them before they slipped away like late afternoon butterflies.
The trouble with being super inspired and riding an emotional high is the accompanying foggy judgment. Writing here is similar; when I feel like I wrote a “banger”, the article inevitably stalls. Reading it back the next day I wonder what I was thinking. Many are asking why Taylor was compelled to drop another album so soon…it wasn’t for the money, they doubt, so why? Why not wait until she’s had a break, taken some time to re-attach to the rest of the world, read some newspapers, think a bit, put her feet up with hot chocolate and a good book?
Based on her lyrics over the years, it seems Taylor Swift is often caught up in the moment. She’s also determined, and doesn’t let things go, whether a high school crush or a diss from the mid-2000’s or owning the masters of her songs. I’ve noticed that people who have a lot of success can grow a bit enamored with their own aura and think they can do anything, get away with everything. In the glow of the moment, with so much applause, excitement, and inspiration, putting out a new album would feel like exactly the right thing to do.
Except maybe it wasn’t. Life of A Showgirl has a weird vibe, like it was written by a teenager who spends way too much time on the internet, not a 35-year-old grown-up woman. And I am glad my own daughter is an adult and I don’t have to worry about a few particular lyrics infecting her mind, or having to explain what Swift means by “magic wand”.
My personal beef with Taylor’s music over the years was the overuse of the words “you”, “I”, and “me”. It’s like she is stuck in the rejection sensitivity of middle school and hasn’t been able to move on, or like she honestly believes the rest of the world is invested in her circle of friends and lovers. There is honesty and vulnerability in songwriting, and then there’s plain self-absorption. It is fine to write about lost love or figuring yourself out, but what a range of wonder, pain, beauty, and curiosities in the universe left to explore!
I still don’t know why I’m writing about this. The album is making waves across the web at the moment, of course. But I purposely sought it out — intentionally typed the words “Life of A Showgirl” into search bars and Spotify. Hmm. I don’t really care, and yet here I am.
When I sit and ponder for a minute or two, I think it’s that I’m fascinated with the idea that someone can have everything and yet continue to be unsatisfied, feel like life is unfair, play the victim, and generally muck around in foolishness. It’s like Chris Farley’s demolition of the model cars on the desk in Tommy Boy. He had a great intro, and then just royally destroys the cars, the desk, the sale, and his chances. (Link below)
https://youtu.be/S2XvxDaIwCw?si=PQFsUYKfhLeIgR53
(You know what, maybe I just wanted to talk about Chris Farley. I miss him. What a gem of a guy.)
I genuinely want to admire her success. As a woman, I love to applaud and elevate other women. It’s just… odd. Taylor’s entire life seems to be a celebration of herself, and she’s only happy when on a pedestal, whether the big stage, or the apple of a man’s eye. It’s as if there’s a black hole, a vacuum for attention that can never have enough. The gravity pulling is so strong that nothing can escape that event horizon. And so instead of celebrating, I feel bad for her. But I know she would hate that so much. I suppose that’s the beauty of larger-than-life success, the ability to ignore or laugh at anything that might lead to humility.
Maybe that’s what it’s all about, the life of a showgirl. Never able to come home to yourself, always on the hunt, vision burnt from the spotlights, impossible to truly see. What I really wish for T. Swift is to let suffering lead to wisdom, and healing to spring from humility. In the meantime, I think I’ll listen to something else.
Blessed is the one who finds wisdom,
and the one who gets understanding,
for the gain from her is better than gain from silver
and her profit better than gold.
She is more precious than jewels,
and nothing you desire can compare with her.
Long life is in her right hand;
in her left hand are riches and honor.
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
and all her paths are peace. – Proverbs 3:13-17
Stories for Humans 