I very much enjoy vanilla ice cream. This being said, I’m unhappy when I go to an ice cream shop with consistently creative flavors but vanilla is the only choice. Imagine walking into a shop that previously had bestselling and unexpected flavors and receiving vanilla. You can imagine my disappointment. After listening to Taylor Swift’s Oct. 22 album, “Midnights,” I thought I was served a large dish of vanilla ice cream — until I dug in.
Swift calls “Midnights” a concept album where “the concept is … the extreme emotions you might be feeling in the middle of the night.” Each song is a different one of these various emotions. In recent years, Swift has made attempts to change her brand to encompass a higher-brow audience of the pop market. With this intention, she inserts more intentionality and artistry into the records. For example, on “evermore” and “folklore,” her 2020 twin pandemic albums, many songs on one album have a pair on the other. Such artistic choices have aided in her continued commercial success, and “Midnights” is no exception.
“Midnights” has sold 1.4 million album units in its first week, an inconceivable number even for Swift. Such absurd sales are bolstered by a thorough marketing campaign revolving around the album. While her pandemic records were both surprise releases, “Midnights” was carefully advertised, creating expectations and near-immediate reactions, further expanding the album’s reach. Her viral TikTok videos and advertisement in Amazon’s Thursday Night Football broadcast have also been credited as playing a part in the album’s commercial success. The singer’s ability to maintain her grasp on the cultural zeitgeist is a dominant reason for her continued success. Since her rise to pop stardom, Swift has remained one of music’s most influential artists, maturing in topic with her audience. Her ability to hook listeners from the gate is a reflection of her experience.
“Maroon” is a high point early on in the album. One of the most cohesive lyrical and instrumental relationships of any songs on the record, the blaring synth and electronic drum provide a nice transition into a strong chorus. In the chorus, Swift mentions “burgundy,” “wine,” “blood,” “scarlet” and “maroon.” The color red, and its variations, are prominent in Swift’s discography, especially in her 2012 album, “Red.” Following the album’s concept, Swift may be subtly pointing to moments she experienced similarly to those discussed on “Red.” However, I quite enjoy the idea of “Maroon” as a matured version of her past shades of red. I would also be remiss to leave out the line “carnations you had thought were roses, that’s us.” One of the album’s stronger metaphors, Swift concisely analyzes a relationship in a single line. Other metaphors on the album vary from similarly compelling to extremely underwhelming. “Karma” is a petri dish full of the latter.
Courtesy of Republic Records.
The New York Times’ review of “Midnights” calls the key subject of the album “how [Swift] is perceived, and how she perceives herself.” Nowhere is this observation more relevant than on “Karma.” A litany of poorly written and uninteresting comparisons to the repercussions coming to all those who oppose her, the songwriting on “Karma” mirrors the most tiresome of Swift’s tropes. From her comparisons of “karma” to her “boyfriend” and “a god” to “a cat purring in my lap ‘cause it loves me,” the song seriously misses the mark. The sentiment embodied on “Karma” has become notorious for Swift’s thematic focus; being more successful than her detractors. While this point can be proven in original and interesting ways, as Swift did with both “Mean” and “Shake it Off,” the fixation has played out. The writing is similarly mediocre in other parts of the album.
When I heard that pop revolutionary Lana Del Ray was set to be featured on “Midnights,” I was hopeful that Swift would be influenced by Del Rey’s alternative take on contemporary pop. It seems that the opposite has occurred, as Del Rey’s contributions were minimized to just more than half a chorus and some background vocals on “Snow on the Beach.” The song is another of the album’s valleys. While I can sympathize with the idea of “snow on the beach” being as “weird” yet “wonderful” as true love, the image is not evocative enough. Regardless of its originality, the line “snow on the beach” would surely be nixed if workshopped during an Emory poetry class. Not all moments are drab, however, as Swift wins listeners over with several potent midnight moments.
“Sweet Nothing” is a thoughtful, clever and fully enjoyable point in the tracklist. With a bright keyboard backing Swift’s bare vocals, the production proves that, with Swift, less is often more. The concept of the track is a play on “sweet nothings,” an idiom typically describing well-intentioned words with little to offer. However, in Swift’s flip, she appreciates Joe Alwyn, her romantic partner,for not putting pressure on their relationship. I can imagine that, for Swift, the public expectations of her love life could be emotionally draining, especially with her history of musically publicizing breakups. Pushing back against this negative energy, Swift channels gratitude and positivity, making the song a pleasure to listen to.
Swift is an undeniably talented and culturally consequential artist. She, like many artists, seems relentless in her pursuit of creation at the level of her past work. This brilliance, however, looms ominously as future releases are anticipated by both her audience and casual listeners. In this goal, Swift does not fail with “Midnights.” Although not groundbreaking, nor her best work, “Midnights” is vanilla ice cream. And, as it turns out, I very much enjoy vanilla ice cream.
Ben Brodsky (he/him) (25B) is from Scottsdale, Arizona. He has explored hip-hop history since 2019, first on his blog SHEESH hip hop, and now with “Hip Hop Heroes,” a series of essays on narrative in hip-hop. When not writing about Jay-Z, you can find him writing “Brodsky in Between,” an Opinion column on political nuance, graphic designing and playing basketball.
