Although Taylor Swift has been famous for most of her life, one of the biggest keys to her success has always been “relatability.” Or at least the illusion of it. This has been done, more often than not, with lovelorn lyrics about being some “dowdy” girl who can’t ever quite get the guy/find love (most famously on “You Belong With Me”). With her twelfth album, The Life of a Showgirl, Swift loses some of that already dwindling “everywoman” cachet for the sake of a concept that’s centered on, essentially, living in a gilded cage. But it isn’t just the “poor me, I’m so rich” aura that makes The Life of a Showgirl frequently eye-rolling, it’s also the bathetic displays toward, unmistakably, Travis Kelce—whose podcast, New Heights, she appeared on to announce the album in the first place. Never mind that said podcast is aimed at discussing sports, not pop music.
And yet, such “flouting of the rules” has been going on a lot during the “crossover potential” of Taylor and Travis’ (or “Traylor,” if you must) relationship. One that has even prompted the commissioner of the NFL, Roger Goodell, to gush about how she’s responsible for bringing in a younger audience to the games/generally drumming up interest in the sport ever since she started dating the Kansas City Chiefs quarterback.
The very quarterback she does her best to wield within a Shakespearean context with The Life of a Showgirl’s first track, “The Fate of Ophelia,” with an effect that could very well have Shakespeare turning in his grave as Swift rewrites, you guessed it, the fate of Ophelia, by making it a “happy ending” for the erstwhile suicidal wreck. And who else should save her but the Hamlet stand-in of the song, “Prince” Travis? A man that Swift has the gall to sing of, “Late one night, you dug me out of my grave and/Saved my heart from the fate of Ophelia/Keep it one hundrеd on the land, the sea, thе sky/Pledge allegiance to your hands, your team, your vibes/Don’t care where the hell you been, ‘cause now you’re mine.”
Cornball songwriting aside, “The Fate of Ophelia” is an insult to hallowed literature itself in that Swift would dare to touch Shakespearean scripture for the sake “Hollywoodizing” the ending—this further manifest in the lyrics, “No longer drowning and deceived/All because you came for me.” Mixing metaphors a bit, Taylor also talks of being rescued from a tower (hardly the first time she’s used that image in a song, with The Tortured Poets Department also mentioning it on “The Albatross” and “Cassandra”), in addition to the water in which Ophelia drowned. So clearly, she’s confusing Big O with Rapunzel, but no matter, Swift simply has a penchant for referencing other famous women.
As she does on the second track, “Elizabeth Taylor.” And no, it’s not the first time Swift has mentioned this “fellow Taylor” in a song. She also name-checked the icon during 2017’s “…Ready For It?” (“He can be my jailer, Burton to this Taylor”), co-produced by Max Martin, Shellback and Ali Payami. It’s the former two that Swift reteams with for the entirety of The Life of a Showgirl, further distinguishing it from Reputation, which incorporated other producers apart from Martin and Shellback into the mix, including Jack Antonoff. The reteaming of Swift with just Martin and Shellback is, in fact, a primary gimmick of this album, and perhaps a subtle way to make amends for never getting around to Reputation (Taylor’s Version) after engaging fans in one of the biggest trolls in recent music history.
Perhaps one of the peak examples on the record of “losing touch” with “the commoner,” Swift does her best to embody Elizabeth T. when she sings, “That view of Portofino was on my mind when you called me at the Plaza Athénée [said in a very non-French way]/Ooh, oftentimes it doesn’t feel so glamorous to be me/All the right guys/Promised they’d stay/Under bright lights/They withered away/But you bloom.” For a start, most of the football fans on “Team Travis” in this relationship would have no idea what the fuck she’s talking about, their limited sense of geography extending, at best, to what lies just beyond Kansas. What’s more, most Midwesterners are well over the constant favoritism given to New York and Los Angeles, yet Swift appears to have her own limited sense of geography when she says, “Be my NY whеn Hollywood hates me.” This statement feeling less like a nod to E. Taylor and more like one to Marilyn Monroe, who famously fled Hollywood for New York after getting into a contract dispute with Darryl F. Zanuck, the head of 20th Century Fox, at the end of 1954. No matter, Swift, like Lindsay Lohan before her, can be attracted to both legends’ stories—their tragic tales and love lives, intermixed with glitz and glamor.
And, as if to highlight the cliches of “how lonely it is at the top,” Swift adds, “Hey, what could you possibly get for the girl who has everything and nothing all at once?” In many regards, this track is a “sequel,” of sorts,” to the question posed on 2019’s “The Archer”: “Who could ever leave me, darling?/But who could stay?” The answer, for the moment, is Kelce, who at least knows something about the pressure behind a sentiment like, “You’re only as hot as your last hit, baby.” If that’s the case, Swift might be in trouble with a song like “Opalite,” which trots out the same old color-related tropes she’s already overused in the past (though probably not nearly as much as Lana Del Rey mentions “blue”). In this case, the “onyx night” represents the darkness before the arrival of Kelce into her life, who provides the “opalite sky” in the wake of “the lightning strikes”—presumably a metaphor for Swift’s previous botched relationships and media scrutiny.
Commencing the song with the verse, “I had a bad habit/Of missing lovers past/My brother used to call it/‘Eating out of the trash,’ it’s never gonna last/I thought my house was haunted/I used to live with ghosts/And all the perfect couples/Said, ‘When you know, you know and when you don’t, you don’t,’” it’s evident Swift is alluding to Jack Antonoff, Margaret Qualley and Lana Del Rey. The latter of whom wrote a song about Antonoff and Qualley’s relationship called, what else, “Margaret,” during which she sings, “When you know, you know” of the kind of true love that Antonoff found with Qualley. Later in the song, however, she does Swift one better by saying, “‘Cause when you know, you know/And when you’re old, you’re old/Like Hollywood and me.” Swift, of course, isn’t quite ready to refer to herself in such a way. For being an “aging showgirl,” as The Last Showgirl recently reminded, doesn’t generally bode well for one’s career.
Even though Swift has made amply certain that she has plenty of other parachutes, as it were, should she need a graceful “out” from pop stardom. For she has her hands in numerous pies (many of which people probably won’t know about for years), as she’s keen to circuitously boast about via the mafioso theme of “Father Figure,” which dares to sample from George Michael, a big risk for anyone, but especially Swift. This because, when compared to the great pop musicians that came before her, particularly in the 80s, the ways in which Swift falls short become even more glaringly obvious. In other words, she has never “ate” the way that, say, Madonna, Prince, George Michael, Grace Jones or David Bowie have.
Regardless, Swift does what she can with the interpolation of Michael’s 1987 hit (and, let’s just say that it works better than the interpolation of Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy” on “Look What You Made Me Do”), wielding it to throw shade at all of the male executives who thought they could manipulate and control her over the years. Indeed, in a sense, it acts as The Life of a Showgirl’s “The Man,” with Swift getting into the persona of a big dick-swinging executive (or mafia boss) herself, with many speculating that Scott Borchetta is the source of inspiration. After all, he signed her as his first artist on his then new label, Big Machine Records, when she was just fourteen years old. So it is that Swift sardonically flexes, as though channeling Borchetta, “When I found you, you were young, wayward, lost in the cold/Pulled up to you in the Jag, turned your rags into gold/The winding road leads to the chateau/‘You remind me of a younger me’/I saw potential.”
The chorus then goes for the jugular with, “I’ll be your father figure/I drink that brown liquor/I can make deals with the devil because my dick’s bigger/This love is pure profit/Just step into my office.” The mafia motif is also peppered in throughout (as if The Godfather needs any more play in terms of fortifying a grotesque Italian stereotype), with Swift asserting, “Leave it with me/I protect the family” and “I got the place surrounded/You’ll be sleeping with the fishes before you know you’re drowning.” Elsewhere, another light Del Rey nod is made with, “Mistake my kindness for weakness and find your card canceled” (on 2019’s “Mariners Apartment Complex,” Del Rey sings, “They mistook my kindness for weakness”). As for another “unintentional” nod, it bears noting that Michael’s “Father Figure” has been having a moment this past year, with Harris Dickinson as Samuel offering a kinky dance in a hotel room to said track in Babygirl while Nicole Kidman as Romy watches before joining in (side note: Swift was sure to mention that she wrote this song before this movie came out).
A title like “Father Figure” leads naturally into “Eldest Daughter” (which, yes, Swift is, with only one younger brother, Austin). A track that, incidentally, has a lot in common with Lorde’s “Favourite Daughter” from Virgin. Except that, unlike the catchiness of “Favourite Daughter,” which is something of a millennial anthem in terms of how said generation was conditioned to always achieve and strive for more, “Eldest Daughter” is a cheesy ballad that few Gen Z listeners could handle. After all, Swift is a millennial through and through (in case “as the 50 Cent song played…” didn’t also give it away on “Ruin the Friendship”) in part because of being fearless when it comes to being cringe. So it is that she addresses the current chicness of being callous and aloof in the first verse, “Everybody’s so punk on the internet/Everyone’s unbothered ‘til they’re not/Every joke’s just trolling and memes/Sad as it seems, apathy is hot/Everybody’s cutthroat in the comments/Every single hot take is cold as ice.” Apart from referencing some of her lyrics in “You Need to Calm Down” (e.g., “You are somebody that I don’t know/But you’re taking shots at me like it’s Patrón/And I’m just like, ‘Damn, it’s seven a.m.’/Say it in the street, that’s a knockout/But you say it in a tweet, that’s a copout”), the “hot take” line also seems to allude to that time she felt obliged to tell Damon Albarn off.
The incident occurred in early 2022, when a written interview between The Los Angeles Times and Albarn went as follows:
LAT: “She may not be to your taste, but Taylor Swift is an excellent songwriter.
DA: “She doesn’t write her own songs.”
LAT: “Of course she does. Co-writes some of them.”
DA: “That doesn’t count. I know what co-writing is. Co-writing is very different to writing. I’m not hating on anybody, I’m just saying there’s a big difference between a songwriter and a songwriter who co-writes. Doesn’t mean that the outcome can’t be really great.”
Swift was very quick to respond via Twitter, slamming Albarn about his “hot take” with the reply: “I was such a big fan of yours until I saw this. I write ALL of my own songs. Your hot take is completely false and SO damaging. You don’t have to like my songs but it’s really fucked up to try and discredit my writing. WOW.” But, to be fair, Albarn isn’t wrong. Swift does co-write most of her songs, with The Life of a Showgirl being no exception in that Martin and Shellback are her fellow collaborators. But it’s apparent that she is in total control of all themes, as unrelatable as they are. Granted, Swift pulls what Olivia Rodrigo and Addison Rae did with “vampire” and “Fame Is a Gun” respectively in that she insists everyone can relate to having a “public life” now thanks to the advent of the online persona. This being her inspiration behind “Eldest Daughter,” of which she commented,
“[It’s] about kind of the roles that we play in our public life, because nowadays everyone has a public life. You have a life that you portray to other people or what you portray on social media, and then you have the you that everyone gets to know who has earned the right to be closest to you. And it’s really hard to be sincere publicly because that’s not really what our culture rewards. People reward you for being like tough and unbothered and like too busy to care. And you may be that about some things, but everyone has things that matter to them and people that matter to them.”
For Swift, it’s always been apparent that being “the best” is what matters to her. This in addition to finding and securing her Prince Charming. It’s a variation on the latter theme that occurs in “Ruin the Friendship.” Yet another track that proves she’s sort of scraping the bottom of the barrel for “relatable material” in that she once again feels obliged to speak as though she’s still in high school. To be sure, Swift appears mentally stuck in that “era” in many ways, often writing from the perspective of an ostracized and/or lovestruck teenager (as she also does on TTPD’s “So High School”). And while that might have been her “core audience” once upon a time, many have been forced to leave such “childish things” behind.
Nonetheless, Swift takes listeners back to a moment in time when she was friends with someone in high school (reportedly Jeff Lang, a man that died in his early twenties) who she had more than “just friendly” feelings for. Filled with regret over having never made a move, especially since that person later died (“When I left school, I lost track of you/Abigail called me with the bad news/Goodbye, and we’ll never know why”—apart from the “why” being, you know, drugs), Swift advocates for “ruining the friendship.” Or, more to the point, ruining a male/female friendship by breaking the “cardinal rule” and turning it romantic. For, as Vickie Miner (Janeane Garofalo) from Reality Bites once said, “Sex is the quickest way to ruin a friendship.” Looking back on her cautiousness now, however, Swift would have been only too willing to ruin it. Though probably not with sex. In fact, she is more inclined to mention a “kiss.” That’s the “sex act” she’s most willing to get on board with as she sings, “My advice is to always ruin the friendship/Better that than regret it for all time/Should’ve kissed you anyway.” Perhaps Joey Potter and Pacey Witter would tend to agree. Though Dawson Leery, not so much.
Apart from discussing being “the best,” finding “Prince Charming” and dissecting “love lost,” Swift’s indisputable other favorite songwriting topic is her haters. Of which, of course, she has many. Though not nearly as many as she does lovers—that is, of her work. Even so, for Swift, it’s as Gaga (loosely quoting Madonna with, “If there are a hundred people in a room and ninety-nine say they liked it, I only remember the one person who didn’t”) once said: “There can be a hundred people in a room and ninety-nine don’t believe in you, but all it takes is one and it just changes your whole life.” For Swift, that person who “changes her whole life” by not believing in her is usually her hater (hear also: “Bad Blood,” one of her biggest hits inspired by none other than erstwhile “enemy” Katy Perry). If the “Easter eggs” of “Actually Romantic” are anything to go by, the latest hater that Swift is “taking down by taking to task” is Charli XCX. The shade is in the song title alone, which features “romantic” in it the way Charli’s “Everything is romantic” does. One of the many beloved songs that appeared on Brat last year. Along with “Sympathy is a knife,” which was speculated to be about Swift when Charli mentioned, among other things, “Don’t wanna see her backstage at my boyfriend’s show/Fingers crossed behind my back, I hope they break up quick.”
If Charli was, in fact, referring to Swift, she definitely got her wish about Matty Healy and Swift breaking up quick. As for the boyfriend Charli refers to, George Daniel, he’s since become her husband. A fellow “365 party girl,” though probably not nearly at Charli’s level. Something Swift shades when she opens the track with, “I heard you call me ‘Boring Barbie’ when the coke’s got you brave/High-fived my ex [Matty Healy] and then you said you’re glad he ghosted me/Wrote me a song [“Everything is romantic”] sayin’ it makes you sick to see my face/Some people might be offended.” Swift, though, not so much. Or so she claims in the chorus, “But it’s actually sweet/All the time you’ve spent on me/It’s honestly wild/All the effort you’ve put in/It’s actually romantic/I really gotta hand it to you/No man has ever loved me like you do.” In effect, Swift speaks on the fine line between love and hate, and how Charli (or any other chanteuse, really) might technically be showing her the former by fixating on her so much. So it is that Swift keeps ribbing, “Hadn’t thought of you in a long time [this channeling Lover’s “I Forgot That You Existed”]/But you keep sending me funny valentines [the song, one supposes?]/And I know you think it comes off vicious/But it’s precious, adorable/Like a toy chihuahua barking at me from a tiny purse/That’s how much it hurts.”
Of course, Swift is lying to herself when she says it doesn’t hurt, otherwise she wouldn’t have written a song about it, digging the (unsympathetic) knife in as much as she can with other lyrics like, “How many times has your boyfriend said/‘Why are we always talkin’ ‘bout her?’” And yes, XCX does mention talking about “her” in “Sympathy is a knife” when she says, “George says I’m just paranoid/Says he just don’t see it, he’s so naïve.”
What George—and just about everyone else—might see, however, is that The Life of a Showgirl is less about a girl who “puts on a show” and more about a girl who is obsessed with her boyfriend in the same way that she has been with every boyfriend before (as each album has evidenced). And when that meme of one of Taylor and Travis’ first dates came out with the caption, “Taylor taking her new album for a walk,” it was entirely accurate. For while the intent behind it was to emphasize that Swift always explores her breakups on her records (with Red and TTPD being a primary example), it turns out that the meme was right in a different way, because Kelce is the crux of her new album far more than being a performer is.
“Wi$h Li$t” (which bears a similarity to Midnights’ “Glitch” in terms of Swift’s intonation and the sound of the track itself) is just such a beacon of that. During it, Swift details the different kinds of wishes that people have for themselves, many of them materially-oriented (e.g., “They want that yacht life, under chopper blades/They want those bright lights and Balenci shades/And a fat ass with a baby face [this somehow sounding like a jibe being made at one of Swift’s longtime nemeses, Kim Kardashian]).” Swift, on the other hand, claims, “I just want you/Have a couple kids, got the whole block lookin’ like you/We tell the world to leave us the fuck alone, and they do, wow/Got me dreamin’ ‘bout a driveway with a basketball hoop/Boss up, settle down, got a wish list.” A wish list, evidently, that not only one-ups Swift’s usual cringe factor, but also proves XCX “or whoever” right in calling her Boring Barbie.
Try as she might to mitigate that nickname with the song that follows, “Wood.” An innuendo-laden ditty that makes all previous songs on The Life of a Showgirl come across as far less uncomfortable. And it’s not just because this marks the first time that Swift tries her hand at something like being “raunchy” (“Girls, I don’t need to catch the bouquet/To know a hard rock is on the way”), but because, well, she’s quite bad at it. Though, at the very least, she spared listeners from not being euphemistic (“The curse on me was broken by your magic wand”—oof). Because to hear her try her hand at something as sexually explicit as “WAP” would be so much worse.
Nay, it might even get her “CANCELLED!” (spelled the British way, perhaps a residual side effect of being with Alwyn). A phenomenon that Swift insists she’s no stranger to, telling Time in 2023 that she was “canceled within an inch of my life and sanity” because of the “fully manufactured frame job, in an illegally recorded phone call, which Kim Kardashian edited and then put out to say to everyone that I was a liar.” Histrionic recounting aside, Swift was so affected by the backlash of that leaked phone call she didn’t bother releasing an album in 2016, let alone commenting on the election that year, even when her input would have been potentially invaluable, what with her influence on mass culture, right down to voting predilections. And, although she was never really at risk of “being put out to pasture” because of the incident, Swift commented that the experience made her have a new empathy for others who went through the same thing after her. As she stated via Amazon Track by Track, “I don’t naturally just cast people aside just because other people decide they don’t like them. I make my own decisions about people based on how they treat me within my life and their actions. And so, this is a song about all those themes.” Of course, such a comment leads one to wonder what her “hot take” on Woody Allen might be (especially since her bestie, Selena Gomez, once worked with him on the atrocious A Rainy Day in New York). And if there are others who have been “canceled” that she might side with sans publicly having the courage to say so.
For the time being, however, she’ll have to leave listeners guessing on which canceled celebrities she’s still friends with (certainly not Blake Lively) by way of the generic chorus, “Good thing I like my friends cancelled/I like ‘em cloaked in Gucci [so much designer brand name-checking on this record] and in scandal/Like my whiskey sour/And poison thorny flowers/Welcome to my underworld [yes, it feels very deliberately Reputation]/It’ll break your heart/At least you know exactly who your friends are/They’re the ones with matching scars.”
As are those who have been called “terms of endearment” in a condescending manner before. In this regard, “Honey,” the second to last song on the record (and not to be confused with Mariah’s iconic single of the same name), is probably the most “relatable” song on The Life of a Showgirl. Mainly because Swift, once again, taps into her rage against the patriarchy by recalling the times when people would call her “honey” or “sweetheart” in a derogatory sort of way. But, ever since she met her “Prince Charming,” the word has taken on a more positive connotation, prompting her to urge, “You can call me ‘honey’ if you want/Because I’m the one you want/I’m the one you want/You give it different meaning/‘Cause you mean it when you talk/Sweetie, it’s yours, kicking in doors, take it to the floor, gimme more/Buy the paint in the color of your eyes/And graffiti my whole damn life.”
Unfortunately, that’s not even as saccharine as it gets on “Honey,” with Swift also singing, “Honey, I’m home, we could play house/We can bed down, pick me up, who’s the baddest in the land? What’s the plan?/You could be my forever-night stand/Honey.” This bearing certain correlations to Swift’s well-documented “nesting phase” on “Lover,” during which she also saw fit to make listeners nearly retch with the lines, “We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January/And this is our place, we make the rules [a.k.a. “playing house”],” along with, “All’s well that ends well to end up with you/Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover.” These lyrics now no longer applying to Joe Alwyn, but to Kelce. Easily repurposed “in a pinch.” Not just in general, but when such sentiments are refunneled into other songs with similar “gushings” aimed at Kelce, with this particular one serving as something like the “Sweet Nothing” (one of many Midnights tracks directed at Alwyn) of the album.
And for the grand, “show-stopping” finale, Swift pivots away from romantic love in favor of the love she has for performance (though, needless to say, her expression of this love comes nowhere near what JADE achieves on “Angel of My Dreams”—and, honestly, to gain insight into the life of a real-ass showgirl, it’s That’s Showbiz Baby for the win). Thus, she concludes with the eponymous “The Life of a Showgirl” featuring Sabrina Carpenter. And yes, tapping Carpenter to collaborate has a “full-circle” meaning in that Carpenter was one of the opening acts during The Eras Tour. In the time since, obviously, Carpenter has blown up to a level that might very nearly match Swift’s in due time—in fact, she now almost has as many albums, with Man’s Best Friend marking her seventh one (and arguably more listenable as “pop perfection” than The Life of a Showgirl).
While the album is primarily a love letter to Kelce (whereas TTPD was a vinegar valentine to Matty Healy), there’s a telling line in “The Life of a Showgirl” wherein Swift declares herself to be “married to the hustle” (even if through a “character”). All while warning others aspiring to the life of a showgirl, through the lens of this famous broad named “Kitty,” “Hеy, thank you for the lovely bouquet/You’re sweeter than a peach/But you don’t know the life of a showgirl, babe/And you’re never, ever gonna/Wait, the more you play, the more that you pay/You’re softer than a kitten, so/You don’t know the life of a showgirl, babe/And you’re never gonna wanna.” But naturally, in both Swift and Carpenter’s case, they definitely wanna. And probably will “till the end of time” (as a more reluctant showgirl, Lana Del Rey, would put it). But while Carpenter is in an “era” that allows for more creative inspiration to flow, Swift seems to be indicating that her own “muse” is in the midst of some kind of “last gasp.” At least when it comes to being relatable to anyone other than tradwives.
To that end, like the also Max Martin-infused Reputation before it, The Life of a Showgirl arrives at a time when things have never been more politically fraught. And yet, Swift has chosen to release one of her “fluffiest” records yet. For never has “glitz and glam” been more of an “in poor taste” sell than it is now (which is why Doja Cat had to feign going back to the 80s with Vie in order to do it). Further indicating that Swift seems to be more out of touch with reality/the common person than ever before.
At the bare minimum, though, she seems to understand that she needed to keep this record breezy (read: short). Way more pared down than The Tortured Poets Department. This perhaps being a testament both to the critical feedback she encountered about that album’s length and the fact that, ultimately, she knows that froth isn’t something that can be explored too in-depth without really annoying people. And yes, if The Life of a Showgirl, as “superfluous” as it is, is an indication of where Swift is at now, it doesn’t bode well for where she’s going to be “artistically” once she’s actually married. If she gets divorced, however, well, that’s another story…