There was a time when I found myself in the grips of sorrow and grief so profound that I often dreamed I was drowning. It was early in 2020: my mother was dying, and COVID-19 was turning the world upside down. While it seemed the universe was conspiring against us all, it felt like it was crushing me.
A couple months after my mother died, Taylor Swift released her album “folklore”; I gave it a listen in my hunt for comfort when grief kept me from sleep. It drew me in. I listened to that album over and over and over on headphones so I didn’t wake the rest of the house. It was as if Swift saw me foundering in my drowning dreams and tossed me a musical lifesaver. That album was sweet, sweet balm for my sad, sad soul, one song more exquisite than the next. I couldn’t get enough — “folklore” was surprising and familiar, loving and comforting — and I clung to it tightly as it buoyed me along my grief-stricken, heartbroken journey.
Until then, I had never been a big Taylor Swift fan. I was aware of her, of course — who in this world isn’t? — but I hadn’t spent much time with her music. To be honest, as one raised by Laura Nyro and Carole King and Joni Mitchell, I admit to being a boomer music snob who believed there could never be a reason to look any further for musical girl power, especially from one so young.
So, I paid little attention to Swift: I didn’t follow her love life, I didn’t read news coverage or social media about her, and I didn’t seek out her music.
I was eventually led to the altar of Taylor Swift by Ryan Adams and his song-by-song, word-for-word cover of Swift’s 2014 album “1989.” I have long loved Adams, who does sad like no other, and he became my bridge to Swift. I fell in love with her songs through his heartbroken reimagining of them as he coped with his divorce.
He also made me curious, and I listened to a couple of Swift’s original “1989” songs to compare. After listening to Adams’ versions, I found hers too sparkly. His heartbroken take on her album was so lovely. And Swift agreed: “There’s this beautiful, aching sadness and longing in this album that doesn’t exist in the original,” she said in an interview.
So I was content to let Adams’ interpretation of Swift’s beautifully crafted songs be what I knew of her, and while I preferred his “1989” to hers, I discovered there was substance to her work. I was impressed.
While Ryan Adams’ “1989” cracked open the door to Swift’s music for me, she swung it wide open and waved me in with “folklore”; I walked right through and never looked back.
Soon after that I met a Swiftie who was much, much younger than me, and with whom I could unabashedly share my fandom. From her I learned that three of my favorite songs on “folklore” — “betty,” “august,” and “cardigan” — formed a romantic musical triangle. I hadn’t realized they were bound together; now that I know the backstory weaving through the three, I will never, ever hear them the same way again.
Yes, I am an aging boomer and I love Taylor Swift. She is a singular talent, the likes of which we may not see again any time soon. Before 2023 — the year of The Eras Tour, when EVERYONE became obsessed with her, it seems — I hadn’t shared my fan-girl status with many, thinking I was an outlier — one way-too-old-to-be-a-Swift-fan — but I was wrong.
I began mentioning her to others when I was out and about, to crack the door open just a bit; I’ve been pleased at how many people have walked right through. I’ve learned there are a lot of us who didn’t grow up with Taylor Swift, who never attended one of her concerts or wore a friendship bracelet, who aren’t aware of — or even care about — her dating history. We were ecstatically gobsmacked by the “Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour” film (some of us even more than a couple times). We admire her business savvy and celebrate her success; we appreciate her inclusivity and are inspired by her generosity; we love how young girls look up to her and we root for her continued creativity.
We are also hopelessly enchanted by what appears to be a dizzyingly happy relationship with her football-playing boyfriend.
And because grief circles back when we least expect it, I am binging “folklore” once again on my headphones in the middle of the night as I write.
Absolutely love this album, and agree wholeheartedly with everything you say here. Also another 60-something who grew up with Joni and Laura Nyro, but who’s also always had a taste for pop that’s bright and fun, all the more impressive to me if someone can write that and still have substance in the lyrics and surprises in the music. Now that is something for which Taylor has an extraordinary gift that in my opinion even surpasses Joni, who only ever had one actual “hit single” (“Help Me”), for whatever that’s worth (not a whole lot IMO). Taylor gets an extraordinary amount of flak for you-name-it: being too serious; being too lightweight; talking about her love life; not talking about her love life; and so on and so forth. I think she has navigated her career with amazing intelligence and resilience and has managed for the most part to strike the tricky balance between commercial success on a monstrous level and genuine artistic substance. Thank you for your thoughts and your candor about your experience.
As an aging Boomer myself, white and male, I’ve been generally, pleasantly, surprised by the usual response I get when I go all confessional on some of my friends about my enthusiasm for Swift’s music. She’s simply brilliant and her writing strikes deep chords, even with someone who grew up with Joni Mitchell Carole King. In fact, I consider her the flagship for the current crop of fantastic young women writing and performing. Regina Spektor, Lana Del Rey, Feist, etc. – they are worthy successors. Glad she brought you comfort.