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Taylor Swift’s ‘Midnights’ review: Fragile and fantastic

Ian Layugan

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Taylor Swift’s ‘Midnights’ review: Fragile and fantastic

NEW MUSIC Taylor Swift releases her 10th studio album, 'Midnights.'

Taylor Swift's Twitter

Taylor situates us back in her universe, using nuts and bolts she employed in previous albums

“It’s coming back around,” the musical juggernaut Taylor Swift announces in the first verse of Karma, an infectious track on her tenth studio album, Midnights. The album was released on October 21, almost exactly 16 years after her debut.

She situates us back in her universe, using nuts and bolts she employed in previous albums. 

Midnights returns to 1989’s pop vibe, the deep bass and synth of Reputation, and the charming lyricism of Lover and evermore. The melodies are reminiscent of earlier tracks from previous albums, like Dress from Reputation and False God from Lover — songs that were co-produced by Jack Antonoff, with whom Taylor also collaborated on this record. 

“Ask me what I learned from all those years/ Ask me what I earned from all those tears/ Ask me why so many fade but I’m still here,” Taylor sings in the bridge of Karma, a perky synthpop track that celebrates her search for justice. It is a prophetic song in the wake of the album’s success alongside brands and persons canceling an adversary, Kanye West, following the rapper’s anti-Semitic statements.

But the album has more to validate. Taylor’s loyal fans will be excited to find Midnights a return to her first-person, diary-entry-like storytelling, a revue of narrative twists and turns— “stories of 13 sleepless nights scattered throughout my life,” she teased prior to its release.

Wandering inward

For an artist who constantly reinvents herself, Midnights sounds more like an extension of, not an innovation of or departure from, Taylor’s more ambitious projects like folklore, which she described in a tweet as “standing on the edge of the folklorian woods” where she weighs between retreating, or trudging further, to discover.

 In folklore, she chose to wander out. In Midnights, she draws from her inner life.

Maroon takes on the New York element in Taylor’s multiverse. Unfolding with sensuality and synth, Taylor follows her story of chasing dreams in the Big Apple in 1989 and her “hair bleached” era described in Reputation, with a track that speaks of a relationship “so scarlet it was maroon.” The song deploys Taylor’s knack for iconography and imagery, like how the burgundy on her “T-shirt when you splashed the wine onto me” is much like the red scarf in All Too Well. It is the song that takes the album to full throttle.

Antonoff’s impact on the album lingers, from the pitched-down vocals of Taylor in the prelude of Midnight Rain, the stirring qualities in Vigilante Shit, and the slow production in Anti-Hero, the first single from the album. “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me,” Taylor rattles off in its meme-worthy hook. It is a groovy, lyrical confession of self-loathing.

The only track with a featured artist, Snow on the Beach, is about when two people realize they have fallen in love at the same moment. A hypnotic record with Lana del Rey, whose musical impact Taylor has praised, it is about love in its early, fragile stage, when one is scared it could be broken at the slightest touch. Each artist contributed a quality that meshed perfectly with the other: Lana del Rey’s haunting musicality, Antonoff’s instrumentality, and Taylor’s poetry.

Taylor looms largely over this album’s canvas. Listeners may be quick to label Swift as part of a posse of female singers homogenized by collaborations with Antonoff, who has worked with artists like Del Rey, Lorde, and Clairo. Yet, Swift is present in every component of the album, from words to melody. 

The album’s punch is not in any representative single. In fact, each track is in synergy with each other. Taylor’s gift for thematically stringing a record together shows in Midnights, which would be considered a concept album. The base elements of each track may be at times too subtle or too strong, yet as an organic whole, it stands as a secure record, getting stronger one track after another.

Melodic autobiography

In her documentary, Miss Americana, Taylor opened up about industry expectations: “I became the person everyone wanted me to be.” In Midnights, Taylor has more reflexivity with her songwriting and more revelation of the self. She rolls out a more layered, more intimate persona. She has exchanged the clichés for self-placating hooks.

The places that the album explores are extraordinary, particularly Labyrinth, a ballad that achieves the most by doing very little. Flowing on top of electronic trills, it is Taylor at her most vulnerable, describing the apprehensions of finding love and sticking to it.

It borrows words from her speech at New York University earlier this year, where she was also awarded a Doctor of Fine Arts, honoris causa. “Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out,” she advises. She reduces wisdom to an expression (“Uh oh, I’m falling in love”), a testament to her growth as a spokesperson of emotions — without being forcefully preachy.

The last track in the standard edition, Mastermind, is the perfect conclusion to a candid record. With Maroon and Labyrinth, these tracks could contend for the best Midnights trio. Starting the song with “Once upon a time,” Taylor deconstructs her Romeo and Juliet era. The digital effects in Mastermind wrap up the sonic sequences of the album, while rummaging through Taylor’s image.

The seven additional tracks ground the first ones, proving that while midnight is the best hour for Taylor’s songwriting, the poignant yet brutal realizations stab us in the wee hours. 

This is exactly evident in Bigger Than the Whole Sky, where Taylor explores grief without having to weigh its impact or purpose. “Every single thing I touch become sick with sadness,” she fiercely declares. Antonoff’s slide guitar replaces the gaps where words don’t suffice until Taylor brushes it all off with, “It’s not meant to be.”

Why Taylor decides to release some of her best works as bonus tracks is baffling (see: 1989’s New Romantics). Produced with The National’s Aaron Dressner, The Great War showcases some of Taylor’s best songwriting.

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve echoes her earlier track Dear John, and Dear Reader is an apt curtain call for the entire record that disguises itself as an outspoken diary.

Midnights is Taylor Swift’s witching hour, a self-aware record that masterfully captures both her fragile and fantastic meditations, from small-town stasis to city lights success. 

This record may not be the best 101 for those who are yet to surrender to the charisma of this gifted songwriter, but for those whose lives are already intertwined with Taylor Swift’s, Midnights could easily be placed at the top of her discography. – Rappler.com

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