It’s safe to say that Taylor Swift’s The Life of a Showgirl was the most anticipated album release of the 2020s so far. If you wanted to, you could even argue that the buzz around this record rivals the hype Michael Jackson’s Bad stirred up back in 1989. The Life of a Showgirl marks Swift’s 12th studio album, and it’s undoubtably the most anticipated of her career.

It’s also, without a doubt, her most divisive.

Is this album as bad as everyone says it is? Well, I listened to it, so you don’t have to. So let’s take an in-depth look at The Life of a Showgirl.  

“The Fate of Ophelia” — 8/10

This one’s a decent little bop. I’m into the piano intro, and the verses are really well-written, reminding me a bit of Folklore and Evermore, which Swift said she channeled while writing these songs. Not every track on The Life of a Showgirl quite lives up to that lofty standard, but “The Fate of Ophelia” comes pretty close. The imagery of Ophelia, the tragic lover of Hamlet from Shakespeare’s classic drama, is powerful, if a bit melodramatic (which, let’s be honest, is kind of Swift’s trademark).

Unlike her last few projects, this album saw Swedish pop legend Max Martin at the helm. Even if you don’t know who Martin is, it’s nearly impossible to have never encountered his work: Britney Spears’ “…Baby One More Time,” Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way,” Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream,” and Swift’s own massive hit “Shake It Off” are all products of the Swede. Martin is known for going all out on production, delivering polished, radio-ready pop magic that endures over time. 

Considering all of that, the production on “The Fate of Ophelia” a bit of a letdown. It’s fine. 

Just fine. 

I was never blown away. The song is solid, but the chorus itself is underwhelming. And honestly, it has very little to do lyrically with the whole “showgirl” theme Swift promised for this album. Still, it’s catchy enough to get pop radio play, something Swift herself implied was a priority during the album’s promotion, so you can at least identify the purpose. 

“Elizabeth Taylor” — 10/10

This is, without a doubt, the best song on the entire album. Named after the iconic starlet and notorious man-eater Elizabeth Taylor, this track showcases Max Martin at his best. From the moment the beat dropped in the chorus, I was genuinely hopeful, thinking, Okay, Martin’s back! ‘The Fate of Ophelia’ was just a warm-up. He’s got this in the bag! 

Taylor Swift’s songwriting here is immaculate. It’s rich with detail and echoes the intimate storytelling of Folklore and Evermore without falling into the pretentious, tedious rambling that marred some of the tracks on her last record, The Tortured Poets Department. The lyrics paint a vivid picture of Swift’s whirlwind romance with the Kansas City Chiefs’ tight end Travis Kelce, like this gem:

“That view of Portofino was on my mind when you called me at the Plaza Athénée
Ooh-ooh, oftentimes it doesn’t feel so glamorous to be me”

It’s the kind of writing that feels like it’s giving the listener an inside view of Swift’s world. The recounting of five-star hotels and views of Italian villas gives us the romanticism that we longed for in this album while still preserving the vulnerable and universal emotions Swift manages to tastefully convey at her best. The chorus is irresistibly catchy. You’ll be singing it all week.

And then there’s the stellar production. This is the only track on the album where Max Martin’s touch is unmistakable. The production is all him, from soft piano and layered vocal intro to the climatic beat drop in the chorus that gives the song his signature pop grandeur. It’s attention-grabbing and tows the line between the detailed emotional depth and writing Swift’s fanbase has come to expect of her and commercial appeal.

If half the album had this level of quality and storytelling, we’d be talking about a contender for the upper echelon of Swift’s storied discography. Instead, it stands out as a brilliant jewel on an album with more ups and downs than a flight in turbulence. 

“Opalite” — 8.5/10

This one surprised me, in a good way. At first listen, “Opalite” felt like one of those overly peppy songs that teeter dangerously close to being background noise. A lot of Swift’s fanbase loved it upon first listen. I was not one of those people. The production is a bit underwhelming, and the chorus is initially a little grating. It has a bubblegum energy that can either win you over or make you roll your eyes depending on your mood.

But it grows on you, fast.

Beneath the simple exterior is one of the most cleverly written songs on The Life of a Showgirl. Swift likens love to opalite, a man-made gemstone often found in jewelry and decorative trinkets. It’s pretty, fragile, and something that has to be created rather than procured from another source. The metaphor is really good, and the fact that she pulls it off without descending into wandering, lyrical oblivion is a testament to her growth from her previous album. 

The verses are easily the strongest part of the track. 

Case in point:

“My brother used to call it
Eating out of the trash
It’s never gonna last”

First of all, thank you, Austin Swift, for articulating the feeling of deep exasperation and mind-boggling resignation many of us have watching a friend or sibling constantly run back to the same dumpster fire of a failed relationship. This addresses a situation that we have either been in or have seen others in. Anyone who’s ever found themselves cycling through the same three romantic disasters on rotation knows exactly what this means.

There’s an honesty here that’s refreshing. While many of Swift’s “happy” love songs tend to veer into Disney-princess delusion and immature lyricism, “Opalite” manages to strike a balance. It’s cute, but not childish. It captures the feeling of being genuinely happy in a relationship without trying too hard. 

Its easy to catch yourself accidentally singing it. You might hate yourself a little when you catch the chorus playing in your head on loop while brushing your teeth, but you’ll also hum it again on your way to class. Or the gym. Or the grocery store. The oh-oh, oh, oh! in the chorus that is at first irritating has a way of winning you over.

“Opalite” may not reach the highs of “Elizabeth Taylor”, but it’s got charm, a hook that grows on you, and just enough self-awareness to avoid the cringe that plagues some of the album’s other tracks (and believe me, cringe is coming).

Father Figure — 9/10

If there’s one clear thread running through The Life of a Showgirl, it’s Swift’s attempt to push her writing into modern pop’s more tongue-in-cheek, edgier territory. Most of the time on this album, that gamble fails, but on “Father Figure,” it works brilliantly.

Inspired by Swift’s real-life experiences with industry titan Scooter Braun (though here she channels a composite figure, one of which is former Big Machine label boss Scott Borchetta), “Father Figure” pulls back the curtain on the ruthless, often predatory power dynamics that young stars face when dealing with industry heavyweights. The song’s mafioso-style bravado emphasizes a world of shady deals and toxic masculinity that festers in closed-off, oftentimes abusive bubbles of power. 

Swift adopts a terrifyingly effective persona here, dripping with danger and confidence. Lines like “I can make deals with the devil because my d***’s bigger” are jarring, but in a way that amplifies the storytelling rather than feeling ostentatious or vulgar (a problem that will appear on some of the album’s later tracks). 

What’s especially interesting is how “Father Figure” sets the tone for several other tracks on the album that try to recapture it’s magic, attempting to walk that same razor’s edge of edgy and avant-garde. If you’re looking for the heart of this album’s successful risk-taking and artistry, “Father Figure” is it.

“Eldest Daughter” — 3.5/10

I love the concept behind this song: unpacking the strange, relentless pressure eldest daughters have faced for centuries. Traditionally, eldest daughters bore every burden and annoying family tradition without complaint, from archaic deals to modern expectations: college, career, motherhood, and being the family’s moral compass. It’s a rich topic for a raw, introspective track.

Taylor Swift, as the eldest sibling and someone who grew up under intense scrutiny from her teens onward, seemed perfectly poised to nail this. Her rise during a quasi-conservative pop era, when young female stars were pressured to stay “family friendly” well past their teens, adds vital context. Unlike most of her male peers, Swift faced harsh moral policing, especially after the infamous Kanye incident and her transition into mature pop.

The verses are meh, but the bridge truly shines. But then the chorus hits with painful 2016-era slang: 

“But I’m not a bad b**** / And this isn’t savage”

The pre-chorus—

“I’ve been afflicted by a terrible uniqueness”

—strays toward pretentious but is at least understandable. Who’s left for Taylor to surpass fame-wise? In that regard, she is terribly unique. 

The worst is the second pre-chorus about eldest daughters being “the first lamb to the slaughter” causing them all to dress “as wolves” and look “fire.” This gives the same feeling as watching your mom dab unironically because she thinks it’ll help her relate to you.  

The song’s victimization theme is stale. It isn’t 2015 anymore. She’s too big to fail now; continuing to obsess over past slights only makes her sound like a privileged complainer stuck in the past. Swift can, and has, explored victimhood more cleverly elsewhere. “Eldest Daughter” lacks the self-awareness and depth found in tracks like Father Figure, where she flips the script and takes back control of her life and art.

Ultimately, “Eldest Daughter” is a tedious, limp piano ballad that fails to commit to anything of substance. Max Martin’s production can’t rescue poor lyrics and dry music. It’s one of the most baffling things he’s ever attached his name to. 

“Ruin the Friendship” – 6.5/10

Lyrically, this is arguably the high point of the album. It’s also the only track that significantly expands the emotional universe Taylor Swift has so carefully crafted for her fans.

The song revisits a subject Swift touched on in “Forever Winter” (from the Red re-recording): the loss of her childhood friend Jeff Lang, who died at 21 of a drug overdose. “Forever Winter” captured the haunting experience of watching Lang’s decline into addiction and mental illness from afar. “Ruin the Friendship”, however, dives into the aftermath.

The lyrics find Swift reminiscing about their friendship, quietly confessing a childhood crush on Lang and her regret over never acting on those feelings. It’s a song about the aching awareness that some chances are lost forever. 

There is no problem with the lyrics, they’re great. There is no problem with the theme, it’s beautiful. 

The problem with the song is that it’s boring.

For all its lyrical depth and emotional weight, the production is stagnant. It doesn’t build. There’s no epiphany moment where Martin helps Swift’s regret explode into catharsis. You can identify the chorus, but it‘s sort of just there. Despite Max Martin’s much-hyped return to Swift’s pop production, none of his expertise is exhibited here. Perhaps it would have been better served with a more stripped-back production that matched the emotional vulnerability of the lyrics. But it instead aims for a pop sound that doesn’t suit the subject matter, and doesn’t fully commit to the bit. 

If you want to critique the track, critique that. 

“Actually Romantic” – 7.5/10

For those not chronically online: “Actually Romantic” is a diss track. A Charli XCX diss track. Confused? That’s fair. The situation is messy and nobody is entirely certain about what transpired between the two women. So be warned now, everything I am telling you is based off of things I know to be true and things we are assuming to be true from Swift’s lyrics.

Allegedly, Swift is the unnamed subject of Charli’s “Sympathy Is a Knife,” a song about feeling insecure around another female’s brilliance. Charli doesn’t name names, but she references meeting this woman at her boyfriend’s show. That boyfriend, now husband, is George Daniel, drummer for The 1975. At the time, Swift was dating Matty Healy, the band’s frontman. 

Connect the dots.

Naturally, the internet imploded. Swift doesn’t take issue with the song. It’s what allegedly happened behind the scenes.

Enter: “Actually Romantic.” 

“I heard you call me ‘Boring Barbie’ when the coke’s got you brave
High-fived my ex and then you said you’re glad he ghosted me.”

Case closed. Yet somehow, people are still confused. The diss is spelled out clearly: Swift’s issue isn’t “Sympathy,” it’s Charli (allegedly) mocking her while high and celebrating her breakup.

There are two main points of controversy on this track (besides the obvious). The first is that it has an obvious case of “I Forgot That You Existed” syndrome: if you’re really unbothered, why write a whole song about it? The second is the tired claim that Swift is “punching down.” But let’s be honest: everyone is “down” from Taylor Swift. Should she have held back? Maybe. But if you think she was harsh here, try being Scooter Braun.

Now, about the actual song. The lyrics are great, especially the biting first verse. The metaphors (yes, even the Chihuahua one in the second verse) work because they lean into Taylor’s neurotic, poetic overthinking without sacrificing the flow of the song.

The problem? Max Martin’s production. It’s weirdly limp. This could’ve been her Guts moment, a “get her back!” pop-punk banger. Instead? We get guitar strums and energy that barely registers until the third chorus. By then, it’s too late. The punch has missed.

“Wi$h Li$t” – 6/10

Here’s where we start wading into the more controversial part of the album, which is really saying something considering we’ve already covered the travesty that is “Eldest Daughter” and one of the most talked-about diss tracks in pop. 

First, let me be fair and hand Max Martin his well-earned flowers. I’ve dragged him elsewhere on this album, but here the production’s actually working. Sonically, “Wi$h Li$t” is great. The track’s bouncy groove carries itself. The restraint in the arrangement is, for once, the right call. Martin could’ve gone full pop chorus here, but dialing it back was the smarter move.

That’s where the praise ends.

Let’s talk lyrics:

“They want that
Yacht life under chopper blades
They want those
Bright lights and Balenci’ shades
And a fat a** with a baby face
They want it all”

Oh dear…

“Balenci’ shades” just sounds awkward. And “a fat a** with a baby face”? I need it scrubbed from my memory immediately. This isn’t a Midnights “sexy baby” moment, where a questionable line grows on you because of its metaphorical weight. This line doesn’t deepen the narrative. It’s just… 

…well, it’s bad.

And then there’s the core issue with “Wi$h Li$t”: it’s trying to sell us a story we don’t believe.

This track is allegedly about how Swift, in the euphoria of her relationship with Travis Kelce, has moved past materialism. She no longer needs the long wish list everyone around her has.

But it’s simply not believable. Swift is one of the richest, most visible, most ambitious women on the planet. And that’s not a dig; that’s just what it is. She has the yacht life. She flies private. She wears Balenciaga sunglasses. The idea that she’s ready to trade it in for a “backyard with a basketball hoop”? Please.

And that brings us to the problem of relatability.

Now, I don’t subscribe to the belief that music must be relatable to be good. Artists aren’t required to live modest, accessible lives in order to write meaningful songs. By that definition, Taylor Swift hasn’t been “relatable” since at least 2010. “Elizabeth Taylor” is hands-down the best track on this album, and it’s not remotely relatable. It’s about sipping champagne in a five-star hotel in Paris, reminiscing about the Italian Riviera and then getting picked up by Travis Kelce in a custom SUV for a dinner date. Couldn’t be me! But what is relatable there is the emotion: loneliness, romantic exhaustion, and the the fear of losing love once you have it. Even when Swift’s extraordinary life threatens the narrative, she manages to tie her writing back to genuine feelings people can relate to.

“Wi$h Li$t” doesn’t have that. The emotional core is missing. All you’re left with is this glaring untruth: Taylor Swift pretending to be over materialism while living in a world where everyone around her is chasing BBLs and Balenciagas.

Now, will this song be stuck in your head forever? Yes. Absolutely. It’s a bop. But is it deep? Is it clever? Does it touch the same songwriting nerve as Swift’s best work? Not even close.

“Wood” – 4.5/10

Sigh.

All right. Let’s talk about this one.

But not before I stall just a little longer and put off the actual commentary, because believe me, I’m not looking forward to this any more than you are.

First, a rare bright spot: Max Martin, take a bow. The production here is actually fantastic. That retro Motown sound is not something I expected from this album or Taylor Swift in general, but it’s refreshing. It gives the song a vintage glamour that almost distracts from what’s actually going on in the lyrics:

“Forgive me, it sounds cocky
He ah-matized me and opened my eyes
Redwood tree, it ain’t hard to see
His love was the key that opened my thighs”

I don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be here. No one wants to be here. But folks, here we are.

I’m not going to waste too much time rehashing the already-exhausted discourse around this track. There have been endless TikTok think pieces and tortured reaction videos on YouTube to the point where going into detail on the lyrics’ meaning would just be a desperate attempt to latch onto the shock-value of it all. But I will say this: if nothing else, this song made me appreciate Sabrina Carpenter a whole lot more.

Why? Because this is what happens when someone tries to play in Sabrina’s sandbox without having her toolkit.

Sabrina Carpenter has built an entire brand around being cheeky, sexy, and self-aware. When she drops a line that raises eyebrows, it lands. It works because she has the charisma, the wit, and overall disposition to come across as funny and provocative, rather than indecent and gross. When Sabrina gets raunchy, it feels fun and liberating.

“Wood,” on the other hand, feels like Taylor Swift is trying to do her best Sabrina Carpenter impression, and it’s not working. The lyrics feel forced, the innuendo is clunky, and the whole concept is just off. It’s the pop song equivalent of a “how do you do my fellow kids” moment. This particular kind of modern, wink-wink sexual lyricism just isn’t her thing. 

“CANCELLED!” – 3.5/10

This song is bad.

Just God awful.

Swift has been obsessed with the whole public backlash and “cancel culture” narrative since Reputation. She’s beaten this topic to death, given it a funeral, and dug it up to beat it again. She’s creatively bankrupt on the subject. We get it. You were “cancelled.” But you’ve been talking about it forever, and frankly, you have nothing new to add.

Many speculate this track is a take on Blake Lively, Hollywood actress and wife of Ryan Reynolds. But given that Swift’s PR has been working overtime to push the narrative that they’re no longer friends thanks to Lively’s ongoing lawsuit with director Justin Baldoni (which Swift is now forced to testify in), it’s unlikely this anthem defending Swift’s Gucci-clad friends is about her.  

But if the song isn’t about Lively, then who?

All the signs point to Britney Mahomes, wife of Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes, another figure wrapped up in controversy, especially after that infamous champagne-spraying incident from her luxury box onto freezing Chiefs fans.

Yeah, that’s who we’re defending. 

Musically, this is a Reputation reject, a “from the vault” track that should’ve stayed there. The melody is a mess, hard to follow and forgettable. It speeds up and then slows down only to speed up again. It makes the entire thing seem disorienting.

And the lyrics?

“Did you girlboss too close to the sun?”

Lord have mercy, this is horrific. 

This song is the anthem for embattled rich white women everywhere and their champagne problems (pun absolutely intended) that nobody cares about.

“Honey” – 7/10

This song is adorable… most of the time.

Lyrically, it’s about how words that used to be used against Swift in a condescending or backhanded way have been reclaimed as terms of endearment by Kelce. That’s a clever idea, and it mostly works.

But there are problems.

First, the swearing feels out of place. I’m not here to police artists’ language, but in songwriting, swearing should serve a purpose: to emphasize or heighten an emotion. It doesn’t do that here. 

“When anyone called me ‘Sweetheart’
It was passive-aggressive at the bar
And the b**** was tellin’ me to back off
’Cause her man had looked at me wrong (he looked at me wrong)”

The song is sweet and just throwing that word in there makes it seem out of place. It’s a lyric that muddles the point of the song, which is supposed to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. On the production side, it’s understated but effective. Max Martin delivers a subtle, polished sound here, a rare moment of focus on an album where his contributions sometimes feel incomplete. 

Overall, “Honey” is solid. On a stronger album, I might dig deeper into its flaws. But with some of the lows on this record hitting unusually hard, this one stands out as one of the better tracks.

“The Life of a Showgirl” – 9/10

“The Life of a Showgirl,” the title track, finally gives listeners what many expected this album to deliver from the beginning: a thoughtful reflection on the spectacle of being Taylor Swift. It’s the kind of commentary fans hoped for: a glimpse into the machinery of the music business and a look at her persona as an entertainer. 

It opens with the story of a young, unnamed girl going to see her favorite performer, a dazzling yet weary star named Kitty. The girl asks Kitty for advice: how can she, too, become a showgirl and live that life? Kitty sits her down and, in what feels like part maternal, part condescending wisdom warns her that her world isn’t built for soft hearts. Kitty doesn’t discourage her entirely, but she makes it clear, the spotlight will not love you back, and your skin just isn’t thick enough for it. 

Later in the track, we get a narrative pivot. Swift and Sabrina Carpenter, who is the only guest feature on the entire album, sing about how they once stood in that young girl’s shoes. They looked up to women like Kitty. They have a lot of gratitude towards Kitty now that they’ve made peace with the cost of their fame. It’s a testament to the parts of yourself you have to sacrifice to make it in the business. 

It’s a strikingly well-written track: like something a traveling entertainer would’ve performed in a smoky saloon on the 19th-century American frontier. It has a vaudevillian quality that makes it stand out from the rest of the album.

The only glaringly obvious problem with the track is that Carpenter completely upstages Swift on it. Carpenter’s voice has the overt personality and theatricality that fits the theme perfectly. Swift tries her best, but in the end, she just can’t match the life that Sabrina brings to this track.

Still, the song works. It strongly leans into Swift’s ability to tell a compelling story, which sometimes lacks on this album. In conclusion: it’s a good note to go out on. 

The Life of a Showgirl – 6.9/10

This isn’t Taylor Swift’s best album, but it’s definitely not her worst either. That honor still probably goes to her debut; understandable, since it was her first real attempt at making a cohesive record. Or if you want an example from some of her more recent discography, Lover, a messy, Kidz Bop-sounding, pop concept album that felt like someone puking out a rainbow, and not in a good way.

In a lot of ways, The Life of a Showgirl feels like Lover 2.0. It’s a slight improvement, especially on tracks like “Father Figure,” where Swift digs into themes that run much deeper than anything she was writing back in 2019. But many of the same problems with Lover appear on this album. The songs can feel immature, the lyricism often falls flat, and Swift seems so caught up basking in her own glory that she forgets she’s fallible. Not everything recorded in the studio needs to make the final cut.

What’s frustrating is that Swift used to be ruthless about editing. Back in the Red era, she cut incredible songs, tracks that would go on to be huge singles for other artists, simply because they didn’t fit the vision or overlapped too closely with songs on the album. That discipline seems to have gone completely out the window. Showgirl feels like an album that never got filtered, like every idea made it through just because she could.

If there’s one thing Swift needs to do next time around, it’s something her fans probably wouldn’t have suggested in the past: take advice from outside sources. It has become obvious that Swift cannot recapture the magic that she had with Jack Antonoff and Max Martin, so it’s time to bring some fresh blood into the studio from someone who is not afraid to tell Swift that her work isn’t up to par and she needs to go back to the drawing board. Left to their own devices here, the production team just didn’t do enough to rescue these tracks from Swift’s lyrical abyss, and a fresh perspective might be needed to save Swift from becoming too comfortable in her musical instincts.

Like I said, this isn’t the worst record in her catalog. But it’s a messy one, and there are real lessons to take from it. If Swift can actually learn from this album’s failures, there’s still hope that her next project could remind us why she’s one of pop’s best storytellers and most influential voice.