Antiochus
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A quizzical, almost bizarre review of Taylor Swift's "1989" album in the New York Times. Those statements below will get many a head scratching.
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/26/arts/music/taylor-swift-1989-new-album-review.html
One is left wordless at such meaningless statements
As an aside, it appears Ms. Swift has managed the extraordinary feat of appearing, behaving, and perhaps even cogitating like a 28 year old when she was 18 and a 15 year old now that she's 25.
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/26/arts/music/taylor-swift-1989-new-album-review.html
For almost a decade, Taylor Swift has been waging, and winning, a war, smiling all the while.
Country music has been — was — a natural enemy for her: hidebound, slow moving, lousy with machismo. She could break the rules and make people nervous simply by showing up. And yet country was also a hospitable host body. She faced almost no direct competition there, and it’s a genre that embraces success, grudgingly if need be.
Most important, country gave Ms. Swift context. It made her a transgressor, which means even her most benign songs could be read with mischievous intent. From the outside, she looked like a conquering titan. But from the inside looking out, even as the genre’s biggest star, she was always something of an underdog, multiplatinum albums and accolades be damned.
That she would one day abandon country has long been clear. It’s a big box, and a porous one, but a box all the same. “1989” (Big Machine), though, her fifth album and the first that doesn’t at all bother with country, manages to find a new foe.
Full of expertly constructed, slightly neutered songs about heartbreak, “1989,” which is to be released on Monday, doesn’t announce itself as oppositional. But there is an implicit enemy on this breezily effective album: the rest of mainstream pop, which “1989” has almost nothing in common with. Modern pop stars — white pop stars, that is — mainly get there by emulating black music. Think of Miley Cyrus, Justin Timberlake, Justin Bieber. In the current ecosystem, Katy Perry is probably the pop star least reliant on hip-hop and R&B to make her sound, but her biggest recent hit featured the rapper Juicy J; she’s not immune.
Ms. Swift, though, is having none of that; what she doesn’t do on this album is as important as what she does. There is no production by Diplo or Mike Will Made-It here, no guest verse by Drake or Pitbull. Her idea of pop music harks back to a period — the mid-1980s — when pop was less overtly hybrid. That choice allows her to stake out popular turf without having to keep up with the latest microtrends, and without being accused of cultural appropriation.
One is left wordless at such meaningless statements
Ms. Swift hasn’t been the type to ask permission in her career, but she has long seen herself as a stranger to the grand-scale fame that New York signifies. “Someday I’ll be living in a big ol’ city” she taunted a critic on “Mean,” from her 2010 album “Speak Now”; now here she is, making the New York spotlight her backlight.
On this new stage, Ms. Swift is thriving. And crucially, she is more or less alone, not part of any pop movement of the day. She has set herself apart and, implicitly, above.
But by making pop with almost no contemporary references, Ms. Swift is aiming somewhere even higher, a mode of timelessness that few true pop stars — aside from, say, Adele, who has a vocal gift that demands such an approach — even bother aspiring to. Everyone else striving to sound like now will have to shift gears once the now sound changes. But not Ms. Swift, who’s waging, and winning, a new war, one she’d never admit to fighting.
As an aside, it appears Ms. Swift has managed the extraordinary feat of appearing, behaving, and perhaps even cogitating like a 28 year old when she was 18 and a 15 year old now that she's 25.