Taylor Swift gifted the world with a surprise album on Friday, July 24. That album, aptly titled “folklore,” is a whimsical mix of fact and fiction, with Swift creating characters and storylines in quarantine, retelling stories she has been told and, at times, pulling from her personal life.
While Swift often carefully plans her album releases, she let her imagination and creativity run wild with this record and released it without any rollout. Personally, I believe the album is better for it. There’s something special about listening to an album for the first time in the order an artist thinks it should be heard.
For a lifelong Swift fan like myself, the announcement was both exciting and terrifying, as I usually can mentally prepare for a new album for months in advance. But I was incredibly thrilled about what the genre would be, and the folksy, indie record (officially considered alternative on Apple Music) we were given exceeded my expectations. The toned down instrumentals allow for both Swift’s songwriting and voice to shine.
The album begins with “the 1,” a song about a lost love. This was the perfect opener for “folklore,” as it retells a story so many have experienced before. The universality of “the one” makes “the 1” a perfect folklore – a story that is passed down from generation to generation, oftentimes changed from one telling to the next, but the heart of the story is still there.
Swift also created a trio of songs – “cardigan,” “august” and “betty” – to explore a teenage love triangle. Track 2 (“cardigan”) is Betty’s retrospective of her and James’ relationship, which likely ended due to the latter’s cheating. Track 8 (“august”) is from the perspective of the other girl who spent the summer with James but ultimately learned their relationship was never meant to last, and track 14 (“betty”) is from James’ perspective, in which he ponders if Betty would take him back. The songs connect in small lyrical reminders. “You’d be standing in my front porch light” from “cardigan” correlates to “I’m here on your doorstep” from “betty,” and “she said, ‘James, get in, let’s drive’” from “betty” is a parallel to “remember when I pulled up and said ‘get in the car’” from “august.” Swift’s ability to dream up characters and storylines in her mind and create hauntingly beautiful songs out of it has never been lost on me, yet she shines in an entirely new light on this album.
My favorite song on this record (at the moment) is “invisible string,” which plays with the idea of soulmates or, at the very least, something bigger than us tying two people together. Swift has written a number of songs about one of her most trying years in terms of media attention, its effect on her reputation and its effect on her mental health. (She wrote in her diary that year that “this summer is the apocalypse.”) This theme was brought up once again, ever so briefly, with the line “hell was the journey but it brought me heaven,” and while we can’t be sure of which lyrics pull from her own life and which do not, it feels as healing to me as the line “I once believed love would be burning red / but it’s golden / like daylight” from the last track on her seventh album “Lover” does. One thing “invisible string” does so well is being yet another musical equivalent to the idea of a weight being lifted off of your shoulders.
This album also showcases an eccentric socialite from the 1960s – Rebekah Harkness – who once owned Swift’s Rhode Island mansion. Titled “the last great american dynasty,” Swift writes of Harkness’ time at the mansion, which Harkness dubbed “Holiday House,” and how Harkness “had a marvelous time ruining everything.” Also, the way Swift sings “and blew through the money on the boys and the ballet” is an experience within itself.
The second to last song of the standard edition of the album – we still have yet to hear bonus track “the lakes” – is aptly titled “peace.” And again, while we have no idea what is fact or fiction, I suspect this is a personal song to Swift. The idea of a delicate relationship is one she’s tackled often since her sixth album “reputation” – see: “Delicate” for starters – and I don’t think that feeling of uncertainty ever quite goes away. Swift sings “I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best / but the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me,” noting that her life will never quite be perfect, particularly in terms of gossip blogs and social media trolls. It’s difficult to know if someone would want to stay, especially if you can never give the person you love peace from that.
Swift’s “folklore” was unexpected for a number of reasons. And while I love her pop albums, I didn’t fully realize how much I have yearned for a return to her country roots – not because I prefer a certain type of genre over another (remember: this is considered alternative) but because the toned down nature of the album allows for her vocal ability and, more importantly, her songwriting skills to take center stage.
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