In 2015, Taylor Swift’s graffiti message, maybe with a playful intent or to settle some argument, triggered an influx of likes online, hinting at the growing influence of this pop star. Swift’s catchy choruses and playful lyrics were making waves, as she and her loyal fanbase, or Swifties, soared to dizzying heights. But this was just a beginning, a mere murmur in comparison to the mammoth enterprise that is Taylor Swift in 2024. She is a remarkable talent of her generation, who gives her all in love and work, and constantly strives to prove herself, similar to many other renowned women before her.
Swift proudly asserts that she can deliver even with a broken heart. This refers to her massive 152-date Eras tour, which has grossed $2 billion to date and has been updated with new tracks for its European leg. For Swifties, the tour is nothing short of a spectacular display of joy, catharsis, and endurance. But for Swift – as her upcoming April album, The Tortured Poets Department seems to suggest – it’s an intense journey that requires immense self-discipline and focus.
The whole tour has taken on a meta-level existence. Tens of thousands of concert-goers will fill Dublin’s Aviva Stadium later this month, following the colour-coded paths to witness the 107th, 108th and 109th nights of Eras. Swift’s stark sings, “Lights, camera, b**ch, smile / Even when you wanna die” in her song I Can Do It With a Broken Heart. The electrifyingly somber electropop track uncovers the reality behind Swift’s effervescent stage cheer, culminating in a sardonic critique of her own hardships, daring anyone to try and take on her job. The line between reality and satire blurs as she sashays amid Hollywood feathers.
There is no denying the extraordinary effect such mainstream culture giants have on GDP growth (supposedly), electoral sway (possibly), and digital streaming (definitely). Being the sort of creative individual who delivers darkly resonant lyrics such as “If you wanted me dead / You should’ve just said,” from the song ‘Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?,’ while also prompting teenagers to swap friendship bracelets, is both a captivating sociological phenomenon and not a frequently seen feat.
Interestingly, this accomplishment of Swift’s seems to have come to fruition in a time marked by a desperate need for hope. The anguish-ridden poets’ sector is intricate, gloomy, and cutting. The devastatingly sorrowful ‘Down Bad’ offers a lyric: “F*** it, if I can’t have him / I might just die, it would make no difference,” as a display of ‘teenage petulance’, yet there is more to consider. The energy to channel such emotion into stadium performances at the height of one’s fame is truly a hallmark of the 2020s.
However, the world of “Swiftonomics” remains blissfully unbothered by such thematic analyses. Here, mere amusement abounds. A noteworthy example of this is Barclays’ prediction that Swift’s ‘Eras’ tour would add £997 million (equivalent to €1.17 billion) to the UK economy. If we were to extrapolate the bank’s unusual estimates to Swift’s appearance at Aviva, they suggest a potential swell of €164 million in Irish consumer expenditure, which is moot considering that in a world without Swift, such disposable income would be spent elsewhere.
Furthermore, as her fans passionately sing along to ‘Champagne Problems’, no one would be marvelling at their contribution to boosting local economic demand. Similarly, no one shaking it off to ‘Shake It Off’ would be pondering economic distribution effects.
The reason to take advantage of brand affiliations and desire to share in Swift’s radiant acclaim is comprehensible. I can bear with animated academics engrossed in dissecting Swift’s song lyrics in university courses. Even the ‘Quake It Off’ puns by seismologists claiming that Swift’s Seattle shows equivalent to a 2.3 magnitude earthquake earn my praises.
There seems to be a prevalent idea in the media that in order to establish the validity and sincerity of Taylor Swift, it’s necessary to measure her success using business and political evaluation tools. As if a woman sporting a red lipstick and oozing femininity doesn’t hold significance on her own. It’s evident that she is a regular feature on economic news due to her myriad accomplishments within the music industry, as well as her strategic dominance as the top artist, unabashedly outshining everyone else.
She indeed stirred the pot with several controversies and came out victorious each time. One of her prominent battles was against Spotify, where she endured a three-year standoff due to their miserly royalty rates, somehow causing a surge in the CD sales, particularly her album ‘1989’. Crafting a strategic ploy to re-record her first six albums, which were once acquired by a rival, demonstrated her strategic prowess in her field. It is unmistakable that her every move contributes to her value.
Having been signed onto Universal, the most substantial record label across the globe, since 2018, Swift’s rise is accompanied by an increasingly lucrative music industry, now celebrating its tenth year of consistent revenue increment. Her irrefutable stand as the vanguard of the vinyl resurge is further cemented by followers who purchase multiple versions of her releases to preserve as collectables.
However, the age of multifolded cultural disparities isn’t devoid of inconsistencies. An artist of Swift’s astronomical fame might seem omnipresent, but one can choose to bypass her music. Back in 2013, I had to introduce Swift as a ’23-year-old sensation’ in one of my articles, because even by then, it was obvious that the recognition of superstars required quantification. And today, when people assert their disapprobation towards her supposed single-genre music, it’s clear they haven’t experienced her music.
An early bloomer, Swift, who launched her first album at only 16, has undertaken some spectacular changes in her musical style. She moved from twangy country guitar tunes– her narrative’s initial plane – to a vibrant pop regime and then onto a third-person indie style that tapped into the pandemic zeitgeist before inclining towards a more subdued synth-pop. Despite the evolution, her anthology of 274 songs is grounded in repeated subjects. Whether her collaborative songwriters change or not, Swift always centres her songs on her cherished theme: men, ensuring her relatability remains intact.
The captivating rhythm of the 2012 single “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”, flooded with cleverly constructed humour, was what originally drew my attention. While this track denounced a former partner with a proclivity for igniting disputes and subsequent reconciliation, “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” (2024) provided a powerful censure of an ex-partner who’s guileful performance has left her deeply distressed and confused. Going back to her initial release in 2006, the easy-going “Tim McGraw”, we find it starting with an unexpected sting. When a former high school sweetheart complements her electric blue eyes, outshining “those Georgia stars”, she simply retorts “that’s a lie”.
It is pertinent to note the autographical essence in her lyrical compositions, often teetering towards the realms of dramatic storytelling rather than strict factual recounting. We are part of a generation where lyrics are often dissected with microscopic precision; a notable example being her refutation of being raised in an “asylum”, which is actually a reference to her upbringing on a Pennsylvanian Christmas tree farm – an insight we can glean from her song “Christmas Tree Farm”. The dismissal and disparagement of female creativity comes in numerous forms, all equally uninspiring.
As a woman who has combated the disgrace of a public assault, weathered storms of divisive social media unpleasantries, and a constant advocate for feminism; Swift has consistently countered malevolent nonsense. This wealthy female figure, formerly a people-pleasing “Miss Americana”, she has entered a time in her life characterised by a brazen disregard for critics. Pairing her on the front cover of Time, with her bewildered pet cat draped around her neck as if shooting a whimsical music video, she doesn’t hold back to toy with old grievances for bonus album cut additions, creating success from any dire situation.
The small fraction of avid Taylor Swift supporters that pushed her to ditch a particularly contentious boyfriend are not spared either. In “But Daddy I Love Him”, she implies she’s had her fill, seeking an escape from the admonishment of these ‘holier-than-thou’ detractors. It’s clear that while Swift may be beloved by her fans, they also present their fair share of difficulties.
In the midst of invasive tabloid attention, the former companions of a particular celebrity remain unnamed in this context. Those in the know will recognise them; those not interested need not concern themselves. Regardless, one can’t escape the allure of the intrigue. The release of a hefty 31 tracks from The Tortured Poets Department, each like a newly aired episode of a beloved drama series, was a treat not to be missed.
There is a refrain of anti-fame sentiment, a chorus of endless hate. In the context of American culture, this is particularly intense. Should the unduly pressurised celebrity in question, hailing from an American backdrop of stark patriarchal conservatism and widespread firearms, ever struggle under the pressure, it would hardly come as a surprise. A woman asserting her own personal narrative invites suspicion.
Silencing such deep-rooted dislike is far-fetched, even for an outstanding figure like her. Above all, the hope is that she can choose when to withdraw from the public eye, ensuring her successors are capable.
I eagerly anticipate attending my fourth concert of hers, suitably attired and accompanied by my niece and sister, a seasoned follower of this mega star. My friend’s daughter has even crafted bracelets for the occasion. I am eager and prepared. Despite life’s challenges and global woes, the singer’s self-determination exudes a tangible vibrancy. To end June amidst a sea of fans so fortunate to experience her talent—hoarse from singing along—is a prospect that fills me with happiness.