the ongoing deconstruction of a people pleaser

my running thoughts on TTPD

When the news was announced - a new Taylor Swift album on April 19th entitled The Tortured Poets Department - I can’t say I wasn’t intrigued. A list of tracks titled in just such a way that fan theories could ran rampant for months, a very (ahem) sexy album cover, yet another new era in shades of grey? I could do without the multiple calls for preorders of exclusive editions, the continued secrecy, and the general overbranding of it all, but I still wanted to know what she had to say. We all did.

Like many, I’ve been taking my time to sort through my feelings on this release. Reviews appear to be mixed, and personally, I’ve avoided reading too many while I try to formulate my own opinions (which I may regret once I hear what the pros have to say). Upon my very first listen, I thought it was a fine album, but too personal and specific to feel relevant to my own experience. There is a lot of cursing, a lot of repetition, a lot of songs that begin to sound the same, especially once you reach the 2 hour mark. (TBH, I bought the Target CD, and my opinions are primarily based on those 17 tracks.) Unlike Taylor, I haven’t dated bad boys. I haven’t given 6 years of my life to someone only to have them disappear. And I’m absolutely, definitely, most positively not famous.

Which brings us to the irony of my absolute adoration for “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart.” Here, Taylor recaps her epic Eras Tour summer:

…having the time of her life
There in her glittering prime…

only to quickly shift gears and admit:

I can show you lies.

It’s after this admission that the tone begins to shift. This isn’t the first time Taylor has admitted to putting on a show, but this time, something feels different. She feels defensive, but sad. Strong, but slowly losing it. And as the lyrics progress, I find that - even if I’m not performing for millions of people - I can still relate:

I’m a real tough kid
I can handle my shit
They said, baby, gotta fake it til you make it and I did….

followed by a very unanticipated move into a giddy, Barbie-movie style dance beat that proclaims:

I'm so depressed I act like it's my birthday every day
…
I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art.

Now she’d really caught my attention. This track is a production, yes. But it’s also showing cracks in a well-crafted facade. A break in the ooey-gooey, lovey-dovey kindness that we expect from the bejeweled young woman on stage. And after all the marketing, all the mega sales, all the gleaming pristine polish…I found that I love it more than just about anything else she’s ever done.

That day, I was having a tough afternoon, but there I was trying to make the best of it, putting on my own facade of good-girl-ness while holding onto something a much angrier inside. This song not only spoke to what I was experiencing in that very moment - replacing my feelings with productivity - but to the experience of women (and people pleasers) in general. We’ve got a lot to worry about, but somehow, we manage to get it done. We offer smiles to those who hurt us. We hold onto all the feelings until they burst in moments of solitude. And we wear all this like a badge of honor while they keep asking for “MORE.”

Y’all, I know Taylor loves the spotlight. But even she has to get tired of the increasing pressure to turn it on for us at all times.

Upon a second, third, and fourth listen, I began to put together the real pieces of this album, envisioning it as literal pages torn from a once-private diary. Yes, there are little clues and tidbits here and there that suggest memories of Matty Healy or offer some insight into her breakup with Joe. Yes, the addition of a double album tends to feel like a little much. But what I’m taking away from TTPD isn’t just the lyrics or the litany of slow songs, but its angry, honest, vulnerable, and biting tone.

Taylor is no stranger to a revenge song, but the songs of Tortured Poets seem to hit harder. For some, this feels disarming, repetitive, like old news. But this time, she’s not just frustrated with the guys; she’s frustrated with the critics, and the public, and the fans, and the assumptions. She’s frustrated with her own fame. And she’s setting aside her people-pleasing tendencies to let us inside - ugly, messy, and chaotic as that may be.

For the last month, Kacey Musgraves’ Deeper Well was the soundtrack to an anticipated period of change in my life. A promise of connection to nature, to simplicity, to hope. But when things weren’t altered in the way I’d planned, it’s Taylor’s tortured voice that has offered a period of release and given me - and all of us -the permission to scream.

When things aren’t as we want them to be, the words that come out of our mouths and our pens can feel jumbled and ugly. We don’t want anyone reading the journal entries; we’ve probably said a thing or two that doesn’t paint us in the best light. But as masterminded and conniving as T Swift can be, I feel like there is true vulnerability in this project. It’s not the beautiful poetry of poets of old - it’s the poetry of a tortured, jaded, and frustrated mind that has allowed itself to roll around in the muck and crawl into the darkest depths. The side of us that we edit in our final drafts so that others won’t judge - or worry about - us in the aftermath.

In “But Daddy, I Love Him,” she pokes fun at reactions to who she’s dating: “You should see your faces,” she seems to laugh. And in “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me,” she paints herself as a witch flying off from the gallows, passing over neighborhoods like Sarah Jessica Parker in Hocus Pocus as she reminds us with biting simplicity… “You should be.” References to death, asylums, and depression abound. This album isn’t pretty. Life isn’t always pretty.

And don’t we all secretly feel like this sometimes? Sick and tired of the judgment that comes our way, the tendency towards comparison, the belief that others deem us weak or lost? I think sometimes about the people who have hurt me, and the things I could tell the world about them. There’s an innately pleasing power in knowing that, and while I’m not in a position to put it out there right now, I can safely experience a little vengeful camaraderie from the comfort of my car. Right now, it seems, this album is a friend to me.

But with any messy lash out, of course, there are consequences. People either love this album or they don’t - and that’s okay. Regardless of where Tortured Poets’ stands in the Eras universe, Taylor’s career isn’t ending anytime soon. And if she were to bring this album alone to a small, intimate venue near me, I might just be the first person in line.

I’ve had my ups and downs with Taylor and her branding over the last few years. It’s felt tired, produced, and inauthentic. But now, I’m back in high school, back to feeling like - as a writer, as a woman, and as a recovering people-pleaser - she gets me. She’s showing me - all of us - how to deconstruct the pleasing personas we’ve created and embark on the cathartic and healing process of telling the truth. (Unless, of course, I’ve been fooled.) But whether it’s all an act or an honest vendetta, I’m proud of her for showing up, for getting ugly, for saying the things we might not have expected her to say.

I hope to one day do the same.