Member Since: 5/9/2012
Posts: 38,050
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Quote:
Even in its self-contradictions, 1989 is generous: is there anything more riveting than a Type A person’s "**** it" phase? Of course the grand acts of big city rebellion on Taylor Swift’s fifth album are hilariously PG: "Oh yeah? You think I’m demure? Well how ‘bout I cut up this shirt?" The entire premise—that 1989 is Swift’s "first official, documented pop album"—rests on a similarly crafty fallacy, that her catalog hasn’t been shaped by whip-smart pop instincts all along. It’s that patented humblebrag pantomime again: "Little ol’ me? A pop star?"
It’s so perfect, though—that Swift’s big-deal stylistic pivot is, in fact, utterly un-transgressive. In reality, 1989 isn’t such a departure from the glossier moments of Red: conversational but crisp, informed but not steered by Max Martin, yuppie in spite of a preoccupation with social hierarchy. Still, if Swift insists she is now a pop star, let it be known that she does "pop star" better than any of her peers, with the knowing passive-aggression of a student who’d rather quietly carry a group project than tell her classmates they’re doing it all wrong. This strategic coyness can be Swift’s most maddening quality, but on 1989, she owns it unlike ever before, popping the Chandon with a big ol’ wink for all the Crazy Bitches to clink to the douchebags’ toasts. She’s harnessed the power of her all-consuming self-awareness, investing in the meme economy with quivering poker-face, her returns matched only by Drake’s: if they hate, then let ‘em hate, and watch the "basic bitch" think pieces pile up. Is there any doubt she knew full well, on "Blank Space", how uncannily "long list of ex-lovers" sounded like "lonely Starbucks lovers"?
Those who accuse Swift of ironing out her narratives on 1989 aren’t wrong: those efficiently personal details once stitched into her songwriting have been democratized. But it’s unrealistic to frame this as selling out. (Taylor Swift does not sell out. She sells more.) Maybe, instead, it’s the realization that obsessive mythologizing of past and future is way less fun than having tons of sex and carting your cat around New York City. To be clear: "Global Welcome Ambassador" Swift’s New York is not the city where you buy loosies from the corner bodega, and it is certainly not the city where police murdered Eric Garner in cold blood for allegedly selling them. Swift’s New York involves some tricky camera angles: a close-up of the festive Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, the surrounding protest signs conveniently just out of frame. It would be silly to consider her penthouse view as anything other than what it is: a commercial. But, whoopsy daisy! Wouldn’t you know it? She’s better than everybody at those, too. —Meaghan Garvey
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31 on pitchfork's top 50 albums. 
http://m.pitchfork.com/features/staf...ums-of-2014/2/
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congrats gurl! Please tell her to release Style next and to continue promoting the record. Hahahaha
Did her albums make the list last time?
But they're auto tuned to death