Tay’s doing good, she’s on some new shit.
The entirety of this year I have been painfully aware of the absurd ratio of shit-ness to the number of days we have all lived through. No doubt, I am by far not the only one. I could list for you all of the varying ways in which twenty-twenty, the year of our Lord, has inflicted fluctuating degrees of trauma on us all, but you, my friend, have no doubt experienced some of these traumas, so I’ll spare you the depressing recap. But on July 24th, the world changed. Or mine did, at least. Because for a week thereafter, and in sporadic moments since, I’ve been allowed to forget the reality of the world going on around me. My body has stayed put in the apocalypse that is now, but an angel named Miss Taylor Swift has granted us all access to a heaven that only she has the keys to. the keys, this time around, were in the shape of an album called folklore.
In true twenty-twenty fashion, Taylor sprung this heart-stopping surprise on us all when we were least expecting it. Known for her meticulous planning of albums and the different Taylor eras they fall into, from the golden-ringleted country twang of her earlier work (Taylor Swift, Fearless), to the experimenting with pop-rock and now signature red-lipped put (Red), and then the sugar hit of pure pop and anecdotes of dive bars and wine (reputation, Lover), Taylor’s move to drop an absolute bomb on both the music industry and planet earth as a whole, truly left me quaking in my boots.
Never have I ever fallen so in love so quickly with a compilation of music. folklore and it’s hefty sixteen tracks (plus one bonus one, of course) remained on repeat for the following week. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t remain still playing after that first week, but nothing compares to the complete and utter transcendence of one’s self when falling in love with an album. What did I do in that week? Did I eat? Sleep? Did I brush my teeth? Could not tell you. All I know is that Taylor was with me, relaying stories of young betrayal and crazy women and the epiphanies we never want to talk about.
Taylor said of folklore that it was an album made entirely in quarantine. You wouldn’t know it, with its collaborations, both vocally and musically, and the fact that it just doesn’t sound like music that was made in someone’s bedroom. But looking a little closer, listening a little harder, perhaps this is the ultimate quarantine album. Songs about memory, about histories, songs about fighting wars and fighting each other, these songs are the stories we remember when we can’t go outside to make our own memories.
I thought I recovered from folklore. I thought I had subjected myself to the absolute maximum number of hours one can possibly listen to the same seventeen songs. Nope. Apparently not. Because yesterday I re-vamped an older Disney plus subscription for the sole purpose of watching Taylor explain, discuss and perform the album’s songs in the quarantine version of seeing her play live. Taylor Swift – Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions was just something else. The casualness of the encounter brought these songs to life. In a world that feels like every day is a step closer to its very real and near end, being absorbed in the intimacy and pure loveof these seventeen warm musical hugs left me thinking I didn’t even care if D-day was tomorrow. I was going to die happy.
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