Skip to main content

Taylor Swift: "Midnights"

 Taylor Swift's recent work has exciting moments of self-loathing; the obvious example is "Anti-Hero." The song's "sequel" begins with a memory of childhood:


Summer went away.
Still, the yearning stays.
I play it cool with the best of them.
I wait patiently.
He's gonna notice me.
It's OK, we're the best of friends....
Anyway.....

There are two voices here; one is a delusional kid who thinks the ne'er-do-well boy will eventually make time for her. Then, there is an adult Taylor, looking over the kid's shoulder, cringing in response to the memory.

With her standard, celebrated sense of efficiency, Taylor recalls a decision:

I see the great escape.
So long, Daisy May.
I picked the petals; he loves me not.
Something different bloomed--
Writing in my room.
I play my songs in the parking lot.
I'll run away.....

What is so interesting to me is that the ending seems unhappy. In Los Angeles, Taylor isn't self-actualized. She is surrounded by "better bodies"; she discovers that her dreams aren't rare. She develops an eating disorder. She is sexually harassed, and she goes to court. ("The jokes weren't funny; I took the money....") A writer is someone with a small chip of ice in her heart--someone who makes use of painful trials. But this is hard to explain to people; Taylor imagines herself as Brian De Palma's "Carrie," dressed in a blood-soaked prom gown, trying to reconnect with "friends from home."

I really like this song--and it makes me eager for the memoir that is (possibly?) on the horizon. It's nice to hear something that isn't simply a relationship post mortem (which isn't to say that the post mortem songs aren't impressive) .....

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...

My Favorite Pop Song

  One thing I admire about Prince is his weirdly pretentious verses: Dream, if you can, a courtyard-- An ocean of violets in bloom. Also: Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. No one else writes like this. Did people try to shoot down these choices? Did a producer say, "We'd like to rethink this one... Touch, if you will, my stomach...."  I can't help but wonder. But it's the chorus that makes this a classic. It's direct and universal--and it ends with that bizarre flourish, the allusion to "the crying doves." (Prince's song was number one in America for quite a while; it defeated Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark.") How can you just leave me standing-- Alone in a world that's so cold? Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold. Maybe you're just like my mother; She's never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cr...