I Saw You In The Tortured Poets Department & I Think You’re Cute 💌
Review & feelings.
Welcome to The Tortured (Newsletter Writers) Department. Here I will be sanctimoniously performing a soliloquy Taylor Swift will never see.
On April 19th, I had a family event, which I had been looking forward to until I realised it clashed with the release of Taylor’s new album. I knew I couldn’t wiggle my way out of it, because everyone would know my “sudden violent illness” was an excuse to check into The Tortured Poets Department.
Thankfully everyone else was running late, so our meeting time was pushed back an hour, and my partner Tim and I were able to get one listen in before we had to leave. We recently bought a new TV and speaker system, so listening to the album via Apple Music felt like a cinematic experience. I called out my theories as the lyrics on the screen followed Taylor’s vocals — “Okay, pause it again real quick!” I would say to Tim as I realised most of the songs seemed to be about Matty Healy from The 1975. I like to trust my initial instincts on things, and try to refrain from having a contrarian opinion for the sake of seeming more interesting or cultured. “I really like this” I said to Tim with a smile, as we listened intensively to the title track. “Wait, did he actually eat seven bars of chocolate, or is that a metaphor?” I asked Tim. “I think he actually ate seven bars of chocolate” Tim replied. “I really love this more direct and effortless writing style” I said like a Contemporary Art snob, trying to justify why a random object is meaningful, groundbreaking, tortured.
I could instantly relate to this album because I, too, am unable to have a singular experience without writing about it. You best believe if I dated a tattooed golden retriever I would have a Moleskine full of embarrassing details written about him (like him riding hard for Charlie Puth), or at least an iPhone Note I couldn’t open on public transport about him being small (I’m sorry, I mean, The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived).
We were walking out the door when Tim said “Okay, now you’re going to freak… but there’s another album”. I fell to the floor, with my mouth open like I was Taylor winning an award in 2010. My handbag still hanging diagonally across my chest, my head buried in the dusty carpet (It was a mixture of shock, happiness, and me knowing my dramatic antics make Tim laugh). “Are my headphones charged?” I asked Tim as we headed out the door. After realising there was a track called Robin, I sent my friend Robyn a 13 second Voice Note (which felt serendipitous) and demanded her to stop working on her essay because she had some real homework to do. “She doesn’t say it, and it’s not spelled correctly, but I couldn’t be happier I have a song by mother” she replied.
As we walked to the train, the streets seemed quiet, as the rain clouds politely held off until we approached Central Station. People were looking at their phones intensely, and many people were wearing over the ear headphones. I was convinced everyone was listening to The Tortured Poets Department, because who are we to fight The Alchemy?
Once we were on the train, and we moved away from the guy behind us who was heavily panting while slurping beef noodles, we sat near two 20-something women, who were talking about Taylor’s new album. “It is kind of depressing” one of them said. “I’m not a lyrics girlie, I’ll be real, I don’t have time for that” the other replied. They both agreed that Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter was better. I drowned them out with my noise-cancelling headphones as I embarked on The Anthology. I instantly loved So High School, and how it sounded like it was straight of a movie like… American Pie. It has a similar feeling to Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream, and captures the excitement of a relationship that makes you feel brand new again. I was quick to figure out thanK you aIMee was about Kim Kardashian, which is funny given how in the bridge Taylor declares how only her and this mystery person will be the ones who know who the track is about (it was literally spelled out for us in the title). Britney did it first with If You Seek Amy, though.
Since my initial introduction to these albums, I’ve been able to absorb them both into my life. I’m currently having a social media break, so I was unaware of the early discourse, and wasn’t at all influenced by outside opinions. I allowed myself to approach every track with curiosity, without making premature declarations. I listened to the album on the bus to work, while doing the dishes, dancing in the mirror before taking a shower. It was being played in the background of my life, and soon enough, it became a part of my life.
It is written in a direct, stream of consciousness format, mentioning names of friends and niche details (“You ate seven bars of chocolate” — stars, they’re just like us!) It is almost reminiscent of her earlier autobiographical writing style, on albums such as Speak Now and Red. I thought given the album title, Taylor would continue to write in a similar way to Folklore and Evermore, and employ a wordy, poetic and descriptive writing style, and hide behind characters to detail her hidden feelings — but TTPD is welcomingly vulnerable, authentic and raw. It reminds me a lot of Lana Del Rey’s recent work, which also touches on themes of getting older, growing in self awareness, but still falling for the same old tricks.
A breakup in your 30s Hits Different. It's a special kind of reflection, anger, exhaustion and self-loathing. And it also just sucks. Because you thought you were building a life with someone, and then you are left all alone to rebuild yourself. The tracks about Matty Healy feel like a Polaroid of a moment in time. It isn’t so much about the length of the relationship, but the mark he left on her (“And for a fortnight there, we were forever” — Fortnight). Whereas, the tracks about Joe Alwyn, whom Taylor was with for six years, fixate a lot on the passage of time and experiencing a breakup in slow motion (“And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free” — So Long, London). Then there’s delicate beginning rush of a new relationship with Travis Kelce (So High School, The Alchemy), where she feels “bittersweet sixteen suddenly” when she dates the jock who probably would’ve beaten Joe and Matty up in high school.
TTPD shows a lot of emotional development and maturity. Taylor has a fierce protectiveness over those she loves, and the life she wants to live. She finally told her obsessive and irrational fans to shove it, which has been long overdue. I think, on some level, Taylor has had to compromise her own happiness to appease her fans, both creatively and personally. Taylor is now well into her 30s, and has achieved every professional milestone she ever could, but that has come at a price of her own privacy and sanity (“I'd rather burn my whole life down, than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning” — But Daddy I Love Him). A lot of people had been clutching their pearls and throwing stones, when we all know what it feels like to be completely taken by someone forbidden: someone who gives us permission to explore different and suppressed parts of our identity (He took me out of my box/he stole my tortured heart/left all these broken parts/and told me I'm better off — My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys). Taylor seemed like she was willing risk it all for this relationship, only for it to end prematurely and tragically (“I would’ve died for your sins, instead I just died inside” — The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived). Regardless of the outcome of the relationship, I’m glad Taylor has established some boundaries with her fans who feel a sense of ownership over her and how she chooses to live her life.
Another consistent theme on this album is Taylor navigating a level of fame that reached New Heights amid The Eras Tour. “It’s about how horrible being famous is” Taylor says to the crowd before singing The Lucky One at The Eras Tour in early 2023. Imagine being at the height of feeling suffocated and burdened by fame, and an unlikely flame tells you to tell them all to fuck themselves, and to run away and live the life you want (“Move to Florida, buy the car you want” — Fortnight). It’s basically the premise for every rom-com with the unlikely leading man, and the overworked, perfectionist, bored female lead, feeling crushed by the life of her own making.
“And I don't even want you back, I just want to know, if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal” Taylor sings on The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived, acknowledging how the breakup was a cloud over what should’ve been an exciting time of her life. Taylor explores what it is like to perform to a stadium full of fans when you have a broken heart in I Can Do it With a Broken Heart —“Because I’m miserable, and nobody even knows!” she says off the cuff with a grin. Taylor acknowledges how isolating fame is, and how it can drive you to become somebody people are afraid of in Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me (“You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me”). The album ends with Clara Bow, which reminds me a lot of Nothing New, a vault track from Red (Taylor’s Version). Clara Bow details how newcomers in the entertainment industry will often be compared to artists before them, and told that they’re the sparkling new version of someone else. Taylor seems defeated and exhausted by it all, and there’s a sense that she’s found peace with the ever-changing pendulum of being the people’s princess. In Nothing New, on the other hand, Taylor seems saddened by having to pass on her crown to the next big thing (“She'll know the way, and then she'll say she got the map from me, I'll say I'm happy for her, then I'll cry myself to sleep”). She was only 22 when she wrote Nothing New, so perhaps at 34, Taylor has come to a place of acceptance, closure, and an understanding that nothing lasts forever.
I will continue allowing space for all 31 tracks into my life (I might need to quit my job to give them all the attention they need). I thought it may have been better received if there was more of a distance between the release of both instalments, but I also think it’s metal as hell. I’ve been a fan of Taylor since 2006, ever since my Dad downloaded her debut album onto my iPod, as well as a bunch of leaked unreleased tracks, that I didn’t realise weren’t apart of the original track list til years later (Thank you Limewire). I didn’t love them any less, or wish I was introduced to the album any differently (I was just grateful I had so many songs to obsess over). Some may not like the rollout of this double-album and think Taylor needs an editor, but I love a messy, seemingly unfiltered body of work. We get the full story upfront, and don’t have to wait for the vault tracks like we have with Taylor’s Version. This is Taylor in her glittering prime, she’s having the time of her life.
Great review! Finally, one that is actually about how the listener feels about the album and not the meta-meta-meta-discourse surrounding it.