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| Photo by Allyana Hernandez |
Sister albums Folklore and Evermore were two halves of a chessboard. Taylor Swift used the narratives of various characters like Betty, James, Este, and Augustine as chess pieces—masterfully moved—advancing and retreating as she sees fit, with our eyes glued to every motion. Her latest album, Midnights, retires her omniscience. It instead grants her a place on the board, experiencing and feeling every right or wrong move. It is because of this that the album feels personal, almost alluding to the singer’s own life, if not life in general.
"Midnights is a collage of intensity, highs and lows and ebbs and flows. Life can be dark, starry, cloudy, terrifying, electrifying, hot, cold, romantic or lonely. Just like Midnights." — Taylor Swift
With songs about love, pining, and regrets, it's not hard to deduce that these tracks stemmed from the singer's own experiences. For this, the album was named aptly, because Midnight is the time to dream, to weep, to want, and for Taylor—to write.
I imagine that the constant spotlight she has to endure as one of pop culture's most prominent figures can get blinding. To see clearly, she must wait 'til the rest of the world is asleep.
We see this in her first track, Lavender Haze, which clouds her in a bubble. The proverbial kind, where the honeymoon phase is never-ending and every hurtful criticism is silenced with a kiss. The upbeat rhythm drowns out the resentment in the lyrics, where the artist talks about the constant scrutiny of the public.
"I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say / No deal / The 1950s sh*t they want from me / I just wanna stay in that lavender haze,"
The song highlights the pros of what it is to love secretly, away from prying eyes. But although the lavender haze she wants to stay in shields her from reality, it also keeps her from realizing that, with time, the haze dissipates.
Her second song, Maroon, tells of fond sadness. It is the morning after, when the high of the previous night has disappeared. The song starts out slow, as gradual as the reel of memories she experienced with a lover, and then ends all at once.
“And I lost you / The one I was dancing with / In New York, no shoes / Looked up at the sky and it was (Maroon) / The burgundy on my t-shirt / When you splashed your wine into me / And how the blood rushed into my cheeks / So scarlet, it was Maroon”
The song is a timeline of a relationship that was short but well-lived, and as she sits there, reminiscing at midnight, she realizes that the love that was once burning red had now dulled into the color of rust—maroon.
The third track, Anti-Hero, is an interlude. It clears up the fog in her mind and allows her an epiphany as to why her previous loves have crashed and burned.
"It's me / Hi / I'm the problem, it's me / At teatime / Everybody agrees / I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror / It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero"
The song has an 80s sound mixed in with modern pop. It's almost the perfect background music for a hero if only the lyrics weren't so self-deprecating. Instead, it plays for the anti-hero, whose name is always last in the ending credits. It tells the story of someone with no outrageous qualities—always too complicit in their affairs and never looking too long in the mirror to realize they could be doing more because the glare of the sun is less harsh than the cold hard truth.
The fourth song, Snow On The Beach, is about the impossibility of reciprocation. It is a daydream of a love that's seemingly unrequited, with its wispy sound and soft acoustics courtesy of featured artist Lana Del Rey.
"I can't speak, afraid to jinx it / I don't even dare to wish it / But your eyes are flying saucers / From another planet / Now I'm all for you like Janet / Can this be a real thing, can it?"
As the snow falls on the warm sand, she slowly realizes that being wanted is not a miracle, but a human experience, much like snow on the beach is unlikely, but not impossible. Whether it is a past lover or a schoolgirl crush, she deserves to love and be loved over and over again.
The next track highlights the singularity of a person's existence. With its nostalgic sound, You're On Your Own Kid is about the parts of you that, no matter how spent, will always come back.
"From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes / I waited ages to see you live /
I searched the party of better bodies / Just to learn that you never cared /
You're on your own, kid / You always have been"
Often, we attach our importance to the second-too-long glances people throw our way. We think that we have to lose ourselves in everything we do and everyone we love to be able to feel so accomplished that we become complete. This song is a reminder that your wholeness is inherent, and that your story begins and ends with only you.
The sixth track, Midnight Rain, is for the Joe March in all of us. It is strong-willed, defiant, and leaves behind collateral damage in the name of self-preservation.
"Rain, he wanted it comfortable / I wanted that pain / He wanted a bride I was making my own name / Chasing that fame / He stayed the same / All of me changed like midnight"
The damsel is no longer tied to the debt of being rescued from the tower and is now free to choose who and when to love. The song is regretful, but instead of taking a somber tone, it only seeks to explain itself. She mourns the life she gave away, but to love is a matter of want, and there is always going to be something she wants more.
Question…? the next song, is the refusal to forever hold her peace. It is a desire hiding between the lines of queries.
"Did you leave her house in the middle of the night? Oh / Did you wish you'd put up more of a fight, oh / When she said it was too much? / Do you wish you could still touch her? / It's just a question."
The song's beats are intermittent, almost letting the person process every question. It tells of a love that once was—one that was not worth staying for. It is a projection of the self to the space beside him, in the home he created for somebody else.
Vigilante Sh*t is the little black dress she wears for sabotage. It is the 6-inch stilettos ready to walk all over him, leaving marks that hurt just as she has.
"Don't get sad, get even / So on the weekends / I don't dress for friends
/ Lately I've been dressing for revenge"
The track is ominous, with slow words sung like a confession. The plan is careful—drawn out so he doesn't know what's coming. His past deeds creep behind walls and stalk him, waiting for a reckoning. It is not only going to be a recruitment of people who never loved him, but also those who once did, which will make it hurt all the more.
The next song, Bejeweled, takes us to the dance floor, where the mirrorball's shattered pieces are scattered on the floor. The light has retired and has now chosen to shine on its own.
"Best believe I'm still bejeweled when I walk in the room / I can still make the whole place shimmer / And when I meet the band, they ask, "Do you have a man?" / I can still say, "I don't remember"
The track's retro pop sound is perfect for grand entrances, where the main character is decorated in white diamonds that shimmer almost as bright as her glass slippers. This time around, she dances alone in the middle of the room and leaves when she wants to because the magic does not wear off after midnight—or ever.
Labyrinth is the "oh" moment. It is the pause in the mundanity of conversation to process the fact that she has fallen in love again.
"Uh oh, I'm falling in love / Oh no, I'm falling in love again / Oh, I'm falling in love / I thought the plane was going down / How'd you turn it right around"
Reluctant and relieved, the tone of the song suggests an aftermath. It is new love precedented by a heartbreak that hurt so bad it left her rewired. Now, with the warmth of a hand clasped in her own, she navigates her way out of her own labyrinth.
Karma, the 11th track, is the inevitability of consequence. In this case, it is the fruit of actions that have nothing to hide.
'"Cause karma is my boyfriend / Karma is a god / Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend / Karma's a relaxing thought / Aren't you envious that for you it's not?"
The rhythm is fun and proud, taunting the listener. It is the affirmation that she was right all along. It is the easing of tense shoulders as she enjoys what she has always deserved. The languid domestication of Karma may be daunting, but it's better to have it purring in your lap than putting a knife to your throat.
Sweet Nothing, the second-to-last track, is the tide of their breathing against the background of busy street cars outside. It is the hum of tinnitus as she blocks everything out, safe in the arms of her person.
"They said the end is coming / Everyone's up to something / I find myself running home to your / Sweet nothings / Outside they're push and shoving / You're in the kitchen humming / All that you ever wanted from me was /Sweet Nothing"
The soft piano is instrumental to this lullaby, playing as the sun goes down. The day was exhausting, with the rain pattering down relentlessly and leaving tracks by the door as it swings open to welcome her home. This song is the warm hug that demands nothing, kind words reminding her that here, everything about her is enough.
Mastermind, the album's ending note, is the forgotten middle child. It is the attention to detail so she can be just one step ahead of everyone else.
"I laid the groundwork, and then / Just like clockwork / The dominoes cascaded in a line / What if I told you I'm a mastermind? / And now you're mine"
Or is it?
