I was a huge Taylor Swift fan growing up–my first iPod only had two full albums on it: One Direction’s debut album and “1989”. Those two albums played on repeat, much to my mom’s chagrin, and though my music taste has changed in the last 12 years, I never stopped looking forward to Taylor Swift’s new albums. I wanted to love “The Life of a Showgirl.” Really, I did. But I also wanted to love “Midnights” and “The Tortured Poets Department” too.
Somewhere along the way, Taylor Swift stopped evolving as an artist. “Folklore” and “Evermore” were objectively beautiful albums–lyrically and musically complex, innovative, and intimate. They felt like a creative rebirth compared to her earlier music, as if she was moving away from the pop sphere and finding her own niche. But everything since then has felt like a regression, and it’s not because she returned to pop music–Swift has proven multiple times over that she can write high-quality pop music. “The Life of a Showgirl” isn’t authentic or unique in the way her music used to be; instead, it feels rushed and flat.
Swift is often referred to as a lyrical genius, and it’s true that her lyrics are where she shines. But on “The Life of a Showgirl”, that genius feels buried. The usual complexity of her songwriting just isn’t there. Her lyrics are short and choppy–nothing like the poetry of “All Too Well” or “champagne problems”. Instead, the lyrics feel simple and repetitive, like a cheaper version of songs she’s written before. “Wood” in particular is striking in its focus on Travis Kelce’s “redwood”, a far cry from the emotionally complex love songs that once defined her career. Or in “CANCELLED!”, in which she asks, “Did you girlboss/too close to the sun?” which, sure, might be ironic, but still just sounds dumb.
This still isn’t really a problem, oftentimes, as songs that aren’t particularly lyrically complex may have a strong soundtrack to fall back on. But “The Life of a Showgirl” does not. This album sounds like a regurgitation of dozens of other songs, as if Swift is looking towards other successful artists (including her past self) and attempting to incorporate their sounds. As a result, none of the songs are particular standouts–musically speaking, they’re pretty boring. Many of her songs also feature uncredited interpolations, such as “Actually Romantic”, whose intro features one of the most recognizable chord progressions in rock (“Where Is My Mind?” by The Pixies), or “Wood”, which, at first, sounded so much like “I Want You Back” by The Jackson 5 that I thought I had accidentally clicked out of the album. So, in the end, we’re left with an album that is lyrically simple, musically lazy, and completely inauthentic.
The album isn’t just disappointing; it’s a reflection of Swift’s growing disconnect from her audience as her music becomes increasingly out of touch. Taylor Swift presents herself as the relatable, all-American girl next door, but that version of her hasn’t existed for a long time. And that’s okay! Of course, people change as they grow older, but the problem arises from the fact that, instead of embracing her inevitable evolution and growth, Swift keeps trying to sell us the same image of an underdog fighting her way to the top. It feels dishonest and performative, which bleeds into her music. Taylor Swift isn’t an underdog anymore; she’s the fourth most-listened-to artist in the world.
Compare that to someone like Lana Del Rey: from the glamorous, dramatic “Born to Die” to the quiet, introspective “Norman Fucking Rockwell”, her music has evolved alongside her, not just in sound but in messaging and perspective. The same can be said for Beyoncé, whose rise to fame was marked by themes of female empowerment and everyday struggles that were highly relatable to her audience of girls and young women. But as her life changed from up-and-coming artist to global icon, she embraced that evolution fully, creating music that reflects where she is in life today.
The disconnect between Taylor Swift as a person and the music she is producing is what has been fueling the online discourse in the week since the album’s release. The conversation isn’t just about the songs anymore; it’s about what “The Life of a Showgirl” says about Swift as a cultural figure. Critics and fans alike are split: some argue the album is a clever commentary on fame and femininity, while others (myself included) are focused on the disconnect between the image Swift is trying to sell and who she is as a person.
Taylor Swift’s image of relatability, which she has relied on throughout her entire career, is crumbling under the weight of her reality. She’s not the girl next door anymore, she’s a billionaire whose most recent tour made over $2 billion in ticket sales, making it the highest-grossing tour of all time. The album’s failure lies not just in its lack of musical innovation, but also in its themes which feel stagnant and overused. It feels like Swift is running out of ideas, relying on her massive platform and cultural influence to make her album successful, rather than pouring her heart and soul into creating high-quality music in the way she used to.
At the end of the day, music is an art, and art is most impactful when it’s authentic. “The Life of a Showgirl” is an example of what happens when that authenticity is missing. Ultimately, it serves as a reminder that no amount of influence and fame alone can replace genuine artistry. Despite its glitz and glamour, the album has no depth, which ultimately makes it fall flat.