The definition of pop artistry in today’s world seems as esteemed as the latest TikTok filter, a perfect place for Taylor Swift to forge her empire. Yes, that Taylor Swift: our very own country princess turned queen of commodified emotions: truly the beacon of creativity. So, without further ado, let’s dissect T-Swizzle’s reign over the music industry, shall we?
Swift’s discography is a masterpiece of self-absorption—disguised as relatability. From her “pick me” anthems to exhaustive epics of her own tumultuous relationships, her songs neatly package teenage angst into the perfect purchasable commodity. Fair enough. The world is always looking for another breakup ballad set to the same three chords.
But what’s truly remarkable isn’t just Taylor’s ability to turn her roster into chart-topping hits—it’s the legion of followers she’s amassed over the years. Swift’s discography is a siren call that whisks bland white women out of Erewhon and into the fray, joining thousands of Swifties in their all-caps worship. And beware the unwritten rule that every suburban sleepover must include a mandatory Taylor Swift dance party. Don’t know the lyrics? Yeesh. Gonna be hard to shake that off.
Yet between global crises and Swifties settling their score with Kanye West fans on Twitter, Taylor sure is laser-focused on her musical career. Never mind what some petulant Swedish girl says about our environment, Swift is remarkable in her efforts to disregard climate change and remain faithful to her talent. Private jet excursions to catch a glimpse of her newest crush? Check! Suing college students for “publicizing” already-public information about her pollution palooza? Sign me up! Fun fact: she has the highest carbon footprint out of any human, ever!
Why worry about forest fires when Taylor’s on fire!?
I’d be remiss to forget Swift’s charming behavior at the Grammys, where, fresh off her latest victory lap, Tay Tay invited the visibly crestfallen Lana Del Rey to share the stage with her. I mean, kudos to her for being able to rub salt in an already grievous wound, a calculated action to appear benevolent yet victorious at the same time. The fans go crazy! We stan a queen who knows her worth! All hail!
Enter The Tortured Poets’ Department, Her Highness’s next musical headache. With a title as clunky as her attempts at humility, one can only imagine the lyrical depths Taylor Swift is bound to explore in this sure-to-be forgettable album. Because what says “tortured” more than cashing in on your fame to give it one last hurrah? But fear not, Swifties: for who needs coherent metaphors when you can have another catchy chorus to chant in unison at a sold-out stadium concert?
Taylor Swift may have the world screaming the lines to “You Belong With Me,” but all empires must fall eventually, right? Just kidding, of course not. God Bless The Queen!