Music Reviews Nobody Asked For: The Life of a Showgirl

For literally over half of my life now, Taylor Swift has been an integral part of the soundtrack. Like, I did the math and everything — she’s been around for 19 of my 32 years on Earth. I’ll admit my relationship to her and her music has evolved significantly over the almost two decades I’ve been listening to her. At first, she wasn’t really on my radar because I was in my “too cool for country” phase every young rock fan gets at some point, but other girls my age liked her music, so she would soon enough osmosis her way onto my little yellow iPod. Even though I wasn’t a Swiftie at that point, I felt like I got her. After all, I, too, was a cute little blonde girl with an acoustic guitar who liked to make up songs.

As I got older, I started to truly appreciate her songwriting for what it was, and I found myself mimicking a lot of her stylistic signatures in my own songs. At one point, I played an open mic and someone complimented me on the “fantastic Taylor Swift cover” that was in fact an original song of mine. Taylor’s writing was deeply personal in a way nothing else I’d heard at the time was and I loved that. I loved the idea of writing something of an autobiography with every song and every album. I loved how she wove pieces of her lore into her music and almost gamified the art of dissecting it, introducing new generations to the crafts of lyric analysis and songwriting. And I loved that suddenly, it was cool to be a cute little blonde girl with an acoustic guitar, because it was never cool to be anything like me growing up. I was an outcast, but I saw myself in Taylor the way I’d also seen myself in one of my other musical heroes, Ann Wilson from Heart. And just like Ann gave me permission to be a badass rocker chick, Taylor gave me permission to be this quirky, confident, guitar-slingin’ poetess.

I guess that’s why I’m kind of mourning the Taylor I used to see myself in, because I’m finding it increasingly difficult to relate to the Taylor on The Life of a Showgirl. The album was released earlier this month to much fanfare and a strangely lukewarm reception from the fanbase. A lot of Swifties ate it up, which is to be expected. But some were entirely put-off by the controversies surrounding the album, such as the excessive limited edition merch, which many fans viewed as a shameless cash grab, or the lyricism, which some fans saw as an artistic regression at best and an indication that maybe she was a sucky songwriter the whole time at worst. There are literally listeners wondering if ex-boyfriend and former co-writer Joe Alwyn had ghostwritten the entirety of the widely beloved folk-tinged sister albums folklore and evermore. And then you’ve got the sociopolitical elephant in the room.

Yes, there are even Swifties convinced that Taylor had defected to the right-wing grift, citing some suspiciously tradwifey-sounding lyrics in a few songs. Don’t get me wrong, we’re going to delve into all of these controversies in this review, and I will say that some of the criticism is unfounded, while some is definitely valid. Because of the divisive nature of this album, I also want to divide my review into “music” and “lyrics,” as I feel the lyrics really need to be digested on their own. This is a strange Taylor album in that I feel the music is actually stronger than the words this time, thanks to the contributions of the man who essentially codified popular music for the 21st century, a certain Swede by the name of Max Martin.

The most famous man you’ve never heard of (unless you’re a fellow r/popheads weirdo).

Taylor going back to work with Max was already a shift for her, as her previous handful of albums had been handled by Jack Antonoff, former Fun guitarist turned pop producer extraordinaire. Because of Max’s involvement with 1989, an album many Swifties regard very highly, myself included (as it was the first album of hers I bought), expectations were beyond high for this album. It was supposed Taylor’s triumphant return to the effervescent pop the fans were craving after the 31-song sobfest that was The Tortured Poets Department. What we got, well, it’s complicated…

1. The Fate of Ophelia

Our opener is fun, if a little underwhelming. It’s got a fun groove, although I was hoping for something a little more uptempo and major key. It feels somber for what’s supposed to be the big hit from the album. Some interesting music theory stuff — she adds an extra four-beat measure to each musical phrase, creating a sort of disorienting feeling. It’s not a bad thing by any means, and I enjoy when she plays around with the rhythm in an unusual way. Like, it’s easy to forget she has more than one song in 5/4 time. Lyrically, the song claims her man had rescued her from “the fate of Ophelia,” which, if you’ve experienced the classic Shakespeare play, is suicide by drowning after her man accidentally kills her dad and tells to fuck off to “a nunnery,” which was old-timey slang for a brothel. (At least that’s what my high school English teacher said.) This is obviously very dark material, but Taylor doesn’t get too into the nitty-gritty details, which keeps this song enjoyable as a fun pop song. My only gripes with the lyrics are the lines “Pledge allegiance to your hands, your team, your vibes,” which takes me out of the song entirely and reminds me I’m listening to Taylor wax poetic over this guy:

Like no offense, he seems like a nice enough dude. But I think I like her songs more when I can’t put a face to it. It allows me to insert my own story into the narrative and connect to it more. Which is why I’m thankful I’m polyamorous and recently starting seeing an athlete myself (and one of his sports is football), so at least I have somebody to dedicate all these “football man songs” to in my head. Someone in a Reddit thread suggested changing the “your team” line to “Pledge allegiance to your hand between my thighs,” which is a much sexier image than anything “Wood” conjures up (don’t worry, we’re getting there) and fits the rhyme and rhythm perfectly. I think that’s the direction I would have gone in had I written this myself.

Music: 5

Lyrics: 5

2. Elizabeth Taylor

This one starts off pretty soft, which is why the beat dropping in the chorus is almost a jumpscare, but I’d argue it’s in a good way. The music is lined with twinkly piano and cinematic strings, evoking the glamour of a bygone Hollywood era, apropos of its inspiration, the illustrious Elizabeth Taylor. I definitely give Taylor (Swift, that is) credit for introducing her young audiences to older media, and it’s actually pretty neat that Liz’s legendary film performances are getting a bit of a boost from this track. Like how cool is it that some Gen Z kid might check out Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and fall in love with the art of acting or filmmaking all because of some song?

I’m not in love with this one, but it’s solid as one of Liz’s White Diamonds. It’s one I would go out of my way to listen to again, just not on repeat.

Music: 6

Lyrics: 5

3. Opalite

Ooohah oh oh oh…Ophelia’s outta the water and springing to life in this one. There is no word to describe the vibe of this song besides euphoric. It is pure sonic bubblegum. It almost has the cadence of a joyous Christmas song. This is the effervescent pop the people were asking for. I can almost hear a little Abba in her delivery at times. The intro guitar is soaked in a dreamy delay and the rhythm is a little “Circles” by Post Malone, which isn’t a bad thing. The musical climax has a quartet of Taylors stacking harmonies a la The Beatles. I sincerely believe that this woman has the potential to go down in history as the millennial Paul McCartney. (Lord knows he has some “glitter gel pen” songs.)

The lyrics talk about lifting up a lover after a dark time. This song made me think of my girlfriend, Olivia, who suffered a series of unfortunate events prior to meeting me, of which the climax was her girlfriend abandoning her in time of need. I always loved how relatable Taylor’s songwriting is, and this is one of her most relatable songs on the album. I know there’s some discourse online about the unfortunate implications of the onyx vs. opalite metaphors in the chorus, essentially claiming the lines are gloating about stealing a white man from a black woman (since Travis’s last few love interests have been black). I don’t think those lines are an indication that Taylor is racist, although maybe she needs more non-white friends in her life to point out when something like this might come across icky. There are more glaring lyrical issues on this album than a line that was likely not racially motivated at all. Also interesting is the fact that opalite is an artificially made stone, which some folks online have analyzed to mean who the hell knows. All in all, though, this is a lovely little tune, one that lives up to its name as a gem.

Music: 8

Lyrics: 8

4. Father Figure

This one seems to be a fan favorite, but it was pretty forgettable in my opinion. Let’s be real, it’s probably about her fighting for her masters, but it’s framed as an older Svengali-type figure speaking to a young protege. He offers her protection and success in exchange for loyalty, but the partnership sours by the end. It’s told from the perspective of the “Father Figure,” interestingly enough, not the protege, and it’s lined with mafia references (“You’ll be sleeping with the fishes before you know you’re drowning”). Nothing about this track really stands out to me except the key change toward the end as the protagonist threatens the protege for her betrayal. The shift reminds me of how the key changes in “Getaway Car” as the narrative flips. These songs could almost be considered sister songs with the crime metaphors, but it lacks the sparkle “Getaway Car” had.

One of the overarching themes I keep bumping into, in addition to the fact that Taylor is no longer relatable, is the fact that this album is chock full of missed opportunities. “Father Figure” is one of the saddest wasted moments on the album because Taylor had gotten explicit permission to interpolate George Michael’s song of the same name, but squandered it. I would have loved for her to lean into the 80s vibe and more directly reference the original song, which feels absent aside from the one shared line at the start of the chorus. Overall, this had the potential to be so much cooler than it ended up being.

Music: 3

Lyrics: 4

5. Eldest Daughter

Even if you’re only a tiny bit versed in Tay-lore, you know about Song 5. (Not to be confused with “My Song 5” by her besties in HAIM — a great song in its own right.) Song 5 on any given Taylor album is often regarded as her most personal song of the batch. The tune widely considered to be her magnum opus, “All Too Well,” was Song 5 on Red. Introspective ballads “The Archer” and “You’re on Your Own, Kid” were also Song 5 on their respective albums, as were the heartbreaking “Dear John” and “So Long, London,” both about devastating breakups. So Swifties had every reason to expect Ms. Swift to absolutely fuckin’ do it to us this time around. And what we got was “Eldest Daughter,” a track arguably soiled by “hip” lingo, a missed opportunity to address the valid struggles of a firstborn daughter, and the real life context behind the song being Taylor’s big overblown romance with Travis Kelce of all people. Needless to say, most Swifties were not satisfied.

But I am not “most Swifties,” and I hesitate to say it, but “Eldest Daughter” might not just be my new favorite Song 5, but my new favorite Swift-penned song altogether. I think the problem is a lot of Swifties aren’t in the target audience for this song. It’s not for happily single Gen Z kids who are just now making their way in the world. It’s for a jaded Millennial who finally found real, fulfilling love in a world that’s become increasingly hostile in the time since they’ve been alive. It makes me think of my own wife, an “eldest daughter” (well, technically an only daughter, but the familial pressures are still there). I’m the “youngest child” in this case, and while I know I’m not a “bad bitch” or the most exciting option out there, I’m my wife’s teammate. We’d recently overcome a lot of both interpersonal and external conflict together when I first heard this song, and the line “I’m never gonna leave you now” hit me like a truckload of frozen turkeys because my wife had said that exact sentence to me verbatim. I have plans to record a covers EP in lieu of NaNoWriMo this year, and I want to include this song on it because it literally feels like something I could have written myself. And that bridge. If you listen to this song for no other reason, listen to it for the bridge. It rivals “This Love” as my favorite Taylor-made bridge of all time.

Music: 10

Lyrics: 10

6. Ruin the Friendship

Okay, my crackpot theory is that this song — or at least parts of it — was originally penned during the Speak Now era, and was shelved until recently. I realize I have very little to back up this theory except that sonically and thematically it fits very well with Speak Now, and suspiciously enough, the friend whose death is mentioned in the song had passed back in 2010, which would have been around the time that album was being written and recorded. But this groovy little track feels nostalgic for a number of reasons, and not just the breezy instrumental that sounds like a 70s-tinged version of early Tay. This feels like a return to form for her with the confessional lyrics about an unfamous guy in a high school setting. This is the sadder older sister of “Teardrops on My Guitar” due to the cruel twist ending of the would-be love interest dying in the final verse. Taylor gives her advice, having experienced this pain — just “ruin the friendship,” rather than always wonder what could have been.

I think the reason some folks have taken issue with this song is the implication that the love interest has a girlfriend in the song, and Taylor seems to regret not making her move regardless. I guess that can seem a little insensitive coming from the woman who wrote “Girl At Home” chastising a man for trying to cheat with her, noting that he has a “girl at home” he should be with instead. I don’t see it that way, though. Humans are messy, and sometimes, the thoughts we have after a loss aren’t exactly neat or even “nice.” Maybe it’s not exactly “politically correct” to wish you’d just kissed that guy who had a girlfriend and now he’s dead so you can’t, but that’s the nature of the human experience. The beauty of music is that it can encapsulate all of those conflicting feelings.

Music: 7

Lyrics: 6

7. Actually Romantic

Taylor Swift is one of my all-time favorite songwriters and an artist I admire deeply. That being said, she doesn’t always have the best ideas. Take, for example, responding to Charli XCX’s “Sympathy is a Knife” with…this. For context, that song is about Charli’s insecurities when it comes to being around Taylor. And I mean, who wouldn’t be insecure around her? She’s tall, conventionally attractive, talented, wildly successful, and at one point was very entrenched in Charli’s world, having dated her now-husband’s bandmate in The 1976. So Charli had to be around THE Taylor Swift on the regular for quite some time, and she was understandably feeling kind of…down about that. So she wrote a song about how Taylor’s larger-than-life presence makes her feel comparatively lesser.

And Taylor’s response was basically “Yeah, you’re right, you do suck compared to me. And I bet you’ve got a big lesbian crush on me too.”

Regina And Her Little Workers (Mean Girls Photo 2) - Regina George "The ... — *Chappell Roan voice* *And we both have a crush on Regina George!*

It’s a really disproportionately mean-spirited song when Charli’s main beef with Taylor was “you’re too cool for me to be around.” But here’s the thing — if you divorce it from the real-life implications of the song, it’s actually probably the best track on the album. It has a laid-back guitar-driven instrumental and the same chill chord progression as the 1988 Pixies classic “Where is My Mind?” (Which, in Taylor’s defense, chord progressions cannot be copyrighted, so the discourse around whether or not she copied it has been driving me bonkers.) I decided to learn it on guitar myself after it came out because it was stuck in my head, and I found when I sing the song, I picture this batshit bananapants bitch from my town’s karaoke scene who screwed over all my friends and I’m not sure wants to have sex with me or murder me. It fits her way better in my opinion.

Music: 10

Lyrics: 1 (when they’re about Charli)/100 (when they’re about crazy karaoke bitch)

8. Wi$hli$t

We’re getting to the real depths of this album with this track, which I’m truly disappointed was not a Kesha feature (if she can bring back the dollar sign for “Kinky,” she can do it for a Taylor collab). My disappointment goes far beyond the lack of Kesha, though, as this song is a total snoozefest. Trite chord progressions, the same tired twinkly synth, and weak breathy vocals really work together to make this song musically forgettable, but I haven’t even touched on the lyrics yet. Other people want yachts, exotic destinations, and complex female archetypes with fat asses, Taylor croons, but she just wants a suburban white picket fence life with her man. I take issue with the entire concept of this song for two reasons. For one, the whole “I just want babies ever after with my true love” trope feels icky in a world where white women’s bodies are increasingly being viewed as nothing more than baby factories to combat the “Great Replacement,” a theory endorsed by Elon Musk and Charlie Kirk, among others. I hate the fact that the conservative movement has all but co-opted the idea of wanting children and a family — I’m as left-leaning as it gets and I want to be a mother more than anything, and it’s actually really offensive to conflate right-wing talking points with having a family. Unfortunately, though, it is a common assumption these days, and I don’t think it’s too far-fetched to believe a lot of high-ranking right-wing elites are squealing at the thought of Taylor going full tradwife. I think the more glaring lyrical issues, however, lie in the “let them eat cake” attitude of the pre-chorus coming from a literal billionaire. Like, no Taylor, most normal people don’t give two fucks, flying or otherwise, about chopper rides or Balenciaga shades. I care so little about Balenciaga, I had to look up how to spell it. Most people just wanna eat, Taylor.

Music: 1

Lyrics: 1

9. Wood

On her old song, “White Horse,” Taylor declares that she is “not a princess” (and this ain’t a fairytale). On this song, she also demonstrates that she is also not Prince. I’ve never listened to an artist sing about the birds and the bees before and finished the song wondering if they’d ever even lost their v-card, but Taylor here is delivering the unsexiest slop I’ve ever heard. I know she can do sexy, and well. We have “Dress,” of course. But this song falls flat. I wish she’d just lean into the silliness of the lyrics and deliver us an irreverent Sabrina Carpenter-esque banger, but she needs to sell it to us. You can’t half-ass camp. No more “ah-matized.” Taylor, you told us back on “Father Figure” that your “dick’s bigger.” Well, give us that big dick energy on this track. Lean into the absurdity of sexuality. Make it equal parts horny and corny.

It’s hard (heh) to focus on the musical aspects of the song when the lyrics are so egregious, but a lot of the discourse surrounding this song that isn’t about Travis Kelce’s penis is the fact that the intro sounds suspiciously like the intro of the Jackson 5 classic “I Want You Back.” It’s musically different enough that I don’t think she outright copied the Jacksons, but I definitely think she is intentionally aping that sort of sunshiny vintage 70s style. That being said, like the similarities in “Actually Romantic” to the Pixies track, these are not really things you can sue over, but then again, with how horrifically litigious the music industry has been post-“Blurred Lines,” one might actually be able to make a case against this song. I don’t believe in the concept of copying music anyways, as it’s a deeply derivative art form — everyone wants to emulate the rock stars they looked up to — and that is why I’m not going to give Taylor crap for this one. There are much worse sins happening within this song.

Music: 5

Lyrics: 1 (for making me think about Travis Kelce’s penis for waaaaay longer than I wood have liked)

10. CANCELLED!

I feel like at least in the music criticism circles I frequent, this has been the most controversial song of this batch for its lyrical content. Which, depending on who you think it’s about, makes this Reputation-tinged song either kinda icky or downright sinister. Some folks think it’s about Brittany Mahomes, a noted Trump supporter, and feel it’s further indication that Swift is drifting right in her politics, or worse, that the “Miss Americana: Social Justice Warrior Princess” persona was nothing more an act (which definitely sucks if true). Personally, though, I feel it’s about Blake Lively, her fellow statuesque blonde best frenemy, whose friendship soured when…I’m not sure. Something about her recent film It Ends With Us. I haven’t been following it closely because frankly I don’t care. Blake doesn’t seem like the worst person, if you sweep that whole “getting married on the site of terrible human atrocities” thing under the rug.

Literally two seconds on Yelp could have averted this, guys.

Here’s the thing, though — Blake apologized for that transgression. Does it make it okay? Absolutely not. Was she dumb for doing it? Totally. But we live in a society where you do one stupid or insensitive thing and your entire life is ruined forever. And Taylor could have made this song about that concept and done an amazing job at it…but she didn’t. It feels like a giant missed opportunity to call out the trigger-happy ridiculousness of cancel culture. I do like the song sonically to the point where it may be my favorite on the album musically, and I actually like it more when I give it a new backstory. Like, imagine it as the backdrop to a character’s face-heel turn, like in Mean Girls when Cady goes full-on Plastic. That’s the shit this song was meant for.

11. Honey

The most forgettable one. The concept is cute — basically talking about how words that were once used against you passive-aggressively actually sound nice from the lips of a lover — but it just falls flat both musically and lyrically for me. A nothingburger of a song, sadly.

Music: 2

Lyrics: 4

12. The Life of a Showgirl

The final song, and one I wish was a little more glitzy and schmaltzy considering the lyrical content, but I’m pretty pleased with this one as an album closer. It features Tay protege Sabrina Carpenter, best known for doing “unhinged and sexy” way better than Taylor could ever dream (as evidenced by, well, “Wood”). The ladies recount the tale of Kitty, the titular showgirl who made a comfy living by being “pretty and witty.” This is the first and only time Tay brings in an “outside character,” which is a damn shame considering some of her best work has been written about third parties as opposed to herself. Who can forget the brilliant trilogy that was “cardigan”/“august”/“betty” from her acclaimed folklore album? Taylor has a way of getting us invested in the lives of these fictional people, and I feel like her songwriting on this album could have benefitted from incorporating more characters like Kitty. Hell, I would have loved to have seen an entire concept album about Kitty and her struggles. Add that to the pile of missed opportunities for this album.

All that being said, this was a fitting finish to the album, especially the glistening outro, which feels like it opens up into one of Taylor’s widely celebrated Eras shows, complete with the crowd going wild. In a way, it feels like the older, wiser sister of Speak Now closer “Long Live,” a track that also celebrates the spotlight and the hard work it takes to become practically immortal through your art. In typical Swiftian fashion, she pulls out the plot twist in the bridge — she and Sabrina were not discouraged by Kitty’s blunt honesty about the harsh realities of showbiz, but instead chose to pursue the dream with their whole heart. It’s a bittersweet ode to the ups and downs of life as an entertainer, a calling that, while difficult at times, can be a rather fulfilling one indeed.

Music: 7

Lyrics: 8

In summary, I feel this album is a solid effort from Swift, albeit one that could have used a little more polishing and “reading the room” before seeing a proper release. These songs would have been well received from literally any other artist, but I understand how lyrics about having friends dripped in “Gucci and scandal” feels out-of-touch from a powerful billionaire when most listeners are struggling to afford groceries. I would have also loved to see Tay explore Kitty’s story more — there is an entire backstory there I’m dying to learn more about. All in all, this album is an enjoyable excursion, though maybe not one I’ll listen to all the way through again. There are some great moments, but also some very clear nadirs as well. That being said, many of the songs are on repeat for me at the moment, and “Eldest Daughter” may just be my new favorite Swift-written song ever, so this album may be one that takes a little longer to fully appreciate.

5/10

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Ten Albums That Changed My Life

When I was a kid, I kept magazines by the family dinner table. I couldn’t eat unless I was reading something — anything! Usually I’d read about video games I was into, but sometimes I’d read about music. One of the features I always enjoyed in the music magazines was a featured artist’s list of their favorite albums of all time. Maybe it’s because I enjoy lists, I don’t know. Is that an autism thing? It might be an autism thing.

Anyways, I liked to imagine I was a famous musician being interviewed by one of those magazines, and I liked to consider what my answers would be. Now that I’m much older and have a platform of my own, I can just, you know, make my own list. I mean, what’s stopping me? So here’s my official top ten albums of all time. It’s not going to look like a lot of music critics’ top ten albums, as my taste in music is notoriously bad. I mean, Bon Jovi of all bands was my obsession for much of my life. But taste is subjective, am I right? And for better or worse, these are the albums that shaped me as a musician.

1. Bon Jovi – Slippery When Wet

I already mentioned Bon Jovi, so why don’t we start with there?

I remember the first time I heard this album. It was shortly after I discovered Bon Jovi due to the everywhere-ness of “It’s My Life” in 2000. I was very little at the time, but I loved that song. My much-older sister was a teenager in the ‘80s, so she remembered Bon Jovi’s initial run, and she still had her favorite cassette tape from back then. Starting up the tape and hearing synth intro of “Let It Rock” for the first time was nothing short of euphoric. I’d never heard anything like it. And then the bombastic vocals and heavy guitar came in, and I was absolutely in love.

Slippery When Wet also contained “Livin’ on a Prayer,” which was an immediate favorite of mine. I wasn’t sure what the hell a talk box was, but I knew I liked it. And how singable the chorus was! It would become my blueprint for creating earworms as a songwriter. There’s magic in that “woah-oh,” I’m telling you.

2. Def Leppard – Hysteria

After my mom confirmed her daughter’s bizarre interest in hair metal by giving her a Bon Jovi tape, she passed down even more of her and my sister’s music. Among the albums I received was Hysteria by Def Leppard. I was never as obsessed with Def Leppard as I was with Bon Jovi (and no one was as obsessed with Bon Jovi as me), but they still ranked high on my list of bands for that era. I loved the melodic nature of their music. You’d have this big, in-your-face chorus followed by some of the most captivating melodies. “Animal” is a great example of that.

My favorite from this album is “Run Riot,” which has the singability that I enjoy in a song. And the harmonies are glorious, owing in part to the amazing production of Robert John “Mutt” Lange, one of my favorite producers of all time. He knew just how to layer vocals and really create a lush soundscape with them. And speaking of Mr. Lange, he had a pretty big hand in the third album on my list as well.

3. Shania Twain – Come On Over

Before there was Bon Jovi, there was Shania.

Shania Twain was my idol. I loved her so much as a toddler. My own mother would get jealous because I’d draw pictures of Shania and not her (sorry Mom). I wanted a horse because I saw a picture of Shania with a horse. And of course, I listened to this album on repeat. I’m shocked I didn’t wear out the tape!

It would be easier to name the songs that weren’t bops on this album, because nearly all of them slap. (Wasn’t a huge fan of the title track, but everything else is a gem.) My burgeoning sense of humor really appreciated “That Don’t And Impress Me Much,” and I’d often quote it. “So what, you think you’re Elvis or something?” “Black Eyes, Blue Tears” was another favorite, albeit a pretty dark song for a three-year-old to truly grasp (it’s about domestic abuse). I loved the use of the talk box (again!) on it. And of course, Mutt’s penchant for strong harmonies is all over this album — he was the producer (and Shania’s husband), after all.

4. Taylor Swift – evermore

I’m skipping ahead quite a bit chronologically, but Taylor felt natural to bring up next. After all, Shania walked so Taylor could run. evermore came during the pandemic, when everyone was in a weird place already. Its sister album, folklore, was released less than five months prior, but aside from “this is me trying” (my neurodivergent millennial burnout anthem), none of the songs on that release resonated with me as much as the songs on evermore. Something about evermore just hit me hard.

Nothing comes close to the heartbreak of “tolerate it” or “happiness,” and the sweet tribute to Swift’s late grandmother, “marjorie,” is sure to leave you weeping, especially when the long-deceased woman’s ethereal voice echoes throughout the end of the song. One of my favorite bands, HAIM, features on “no body, no crime,” the catchiest murder ballad since The Chicks’ infamous “Goodbye Earl.” I’m also rather fond of “ivy,” with lyrics telling the story of a married woman’s tryst with another person who I am convinced is another woman. (She never said the song was autobiographical. I’m not a Gaylor, I swear.)

5. Jimmy Eat World – Futures

Confession: prior to about 2009, I didn’t listen to modern music. Anything made before 2000 didn’t really appeal to me, which meant I missed out on all the good emo bands. But a good friend’s then-husband was cleaning out his house and had a stack of CDs to give me, and Futures was among them. I remember the first time I listened to it en route to Chicago for a marching band field trip. I was absolutely blown away. The music, the lyrics, the entire vibe of the album — it completely flipped my perspective on 21st century music. Suddenly, I had a thirst for discovering other alternative and emo bands, which lead me to artists like Brand New, Weezer, and the neon pop-punk bands of the late 2000s.

The album itself is almost a concept album of sorts, dealing with addiction and longing. I couldn’t yet relate to the addiction part, although that would come later on in my personal story. But the longing was something I related to as an angsty teenager. I could listen to songs like “Kill” and “The World You Love” and cry about the fact that Dylan Martin from my church’s youth group would never love me back. I still love this album though, and Dylan and I are good friends now, so it all worked out in the end.

6. Weezer – Pinkerton

In making this list, I nearly forgot about Pinkerton. I’m sure Rivers Cuomo would rather me forget about it, as he was famously embarrassed of it. But it was a crucial part of my lovesick, sexually frustrated teen years. Looking back, the album is essentially Incel: The Musical, but I related to the lyrics quite a bit at the time, as someone who often found myself falling for guys who were less than interested in me. The songwriting on this album made me feel less alone.

“Why Bother” could have been the theme song to my failed teenage crushes. “Why bother, it’s gonna hurt me; it’s gonna kill when you desert me.” And the simple acoustic track “Butterfly” is possibly one of the most beautiful songs ever written. It evokes the image of catching a butterfly only to watch it wither in captivity. It’s a poignant metaphor for holding onto a love that is ultimately bad for the other person. Sometimes it’s better to let go, which was a painful lesson for me to learn. Rivers was there too, and that’s why I love Pinkerton. It’s so real and raw in the way it handles interpersonal relationships.

7. Heart – Bad Animals

This was another cassette tape given to me by my mom, who I credit for my taste in music. I remembered hearing Carrie Underwood cover “Alone” as part of an American Idol performance, and my dear mother was like “You’ve got to hear the original.” She pulled out this tape and my mind was instantaneously blown. I’d never heard a voice like Ann Wilson’s in my life. The sheer power behind her vocals gave me shivers. And to learn that the rhythm guitarist of the band was also a woman — that changed everything for me. It was the first time I’d seen another female guitarist. Suddenly, I had someone to look up to in music who looked like me! Representation frickin’ matters.

“Alone” is obviously the standout track from this album, the power ballad that made me fall in love with power ballads. I recorded the music video onto a tape, which my autistic ass watched every single morning before school. I wanted to be like the Ann and Nancy Wilson. They were so beautiful and talented and effortlessly cool, unlike me at the time. I’m not as famous as the Wilson sisters, and I probably never will be, but I’d like to think I made that little girl proud. I’m certain the sheer amount of comparisons I get to Ann Wilson whenever I sing Heart at karaoke would make younger me beyond happy, and that’s what matters.

8. John Frusciante – Shadows Collide With People

I’ll admit I was a little torn between including this album versus one of the Red Hot Chili Peppers albums that has influenced me. I discovered John Frusciante through his work with RHCP — I still remember hearing “Dosed” from their album By The Way for the first time and being mesmerized by the beautiful guitar work. It made me want to further explore Frusciante’s work, which lead me to this particular solo album, which I found in a record store or a Goodwill or somewhere. I don’t remember exactly how I happened upon it, but it was quite serendipitous that I did. It ended up becoming my favorite album of all time, carrying me through one of the hardest years of my life.

“Carvel” is an absolute gem of an opener and the reason I pestered my old band to buy me a Carvel cake while we were on tour. The “Carvel cake” in the song is meant to represent drugs, and as someone who very nearly averted an addiction to alcohol, I found myself relating to a lot of the lyrics. The instrumental tracks on the album are eerie and unsettling in the best way, and the ending track, “The Slaughter,” is one of my favorite songs of all time, closing the album on an optimistic note. “I know my pain’s a life away,” Frusciante croons, and I feel it. The worst is over.

9. Chappell Roan – The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess

This is easily the most recent album on this list, as Chappell Roan’s meteoric rise to fame was only within the past few months. But this album gives me so much hope for the future of pop music. I was in a musical rut for a long time, and I was starting to become worried that, like many thirtysomethings, my taste in music had solidified. I wasn’t sure if it was my getting older or new music getting more boring that made me give up on discovering new artists. After all, I remember going to karaoke at a bar full of Gen Z college students, and their song choices were decidedly overwhelmingly subdued. The younger generation grew up on the likes of Lorde and Billie Eilish, who, while very talented, mostly make bummers, not bangers. What we needed was someone to inject pop music with a bit of fun. What we needed was a femininomenon.

I have a hard time picking one or two favorites from this album chiefly because they’re all incredible. “Casual” is ethereal and heartbreaking, culminating in Chappell screaming at her would-be lover “You can go to hell!” in the final line. The sheer passion in that delivery gave me goosebumps the first time I heard it. And the horny lesbian anthem “Red Wine Supernova” is an obvious standout, with candid lyrics and witty references to “wands” and “rabbits” (if you know, you know). It’s such a bop, even Melissa Etheridge referenced it at one of her recent shows. Melissa walked so Chappell could run.

10. Jessa Joyce – The Oceanography EP

And finally…me! It’s probably an unusual choice to put your own album on a list of albums that changed your life, but I can’t think of an album that changed my life more. Sure, it didn’t take off or become as successful as I would have liked, but it proved to me that I could do it. I could record an album! My 2013 spring break was spent locked in my office at the newspaper I worked for at the time, utilizing the Mac desktops there for the GarageBand feature. I had a shitty Blue Snowball mic and a whole lot of caffeine and nicotine in my system (as I hadn’t yet been diagnosed with ADHD and that was my form of self-medication). It was released to Bandcamp with little fanfare, but I felt accomplished. Ten years later, using the knowledge I’d built up about music production and improved equipment (and Adderall), I re-recorded the entire project and released it to Spotify and, well, everywhere else.

“Oceanography” was a song about my longing for a particular guitar-playing guy to like me. It’s about that feeling of wanting to know everything about someone because you’re just that fascinated by them. The folksy “Smiles & Anchors” was dedicated to another guitarist, the title of the song taking its name from his band. The angsty alt-rock “Off the Deep End” was about a completely different guitarist and how I shouldn’t like him, and “Song of the Sea” was about a breakup with a fourth guitarist whom I dated in college. The album could have been called Songs About Guys Who Play Guitar Better Than Me. But they’re all part of my story, and I still love the songs to death, even if those guys aren’t in my life anymore. That’s the beauty of music I think. It’s a snapshot of a time in your life, and Oceanography represents so much of my history. That’s why it’s on this list. I am who I am today because of my lived experiences, and songwriting is my humble way of documenting those experiences. It’s my way of screaming into the void — I was here. Isn’t that what music is all about?

Music Reviews Nobody Asked For: The Tortured Poets Department

Here’s a shocker: I’m a bit of a Swiftie. I know I’ve written a defense of her before, but never a proper album review. Since The Tortured Poets Department just came out, I figured now was as good a time as ever to write one. I’m no music journalist, but I do have a degree in music and journalism, so I might as well put my useless skills to use for a Music Review Nobody Asked For.

First things first: The Tortured Poets Department is not an album. It is a cry for help. I have never in my life heard a more depressing two hours of music. Even her obligatory “glitter gel pen” song of the album is sad as hell when you get past the bouncy synths and actually listen to the lyrics. Like, she literally screams “I’m miserable!” at the end of it.

I differ from most Swifties in that I really don’t give a shit about her personal life. She’s a billionaire I’m never going to meet. It’s the same reason I don’t care about sports. When everyone back home was freaking out about the Detroit Lions doing important stuff, I was indifferent. I don’t know those guys. They’re just some stinky dudes. That’s how I feel about Taylor. I admire her for her songwriting, but I feel like I get more out of music when I don’t know who the song is about. That way, I can relate the song more to my own life and in turn get more out of it emotionally. “Teardrops On My Guitar” isn’t about Drew, it’s about my middle school crush Kyle Kelley, damn it.

And it’s probably for the best that it’s NOT about Drew, because Drew sucks.

The thing about TTPD, though, is that the album hinges on the fact that people know who it’s about. And supposedly it’s mostly about this guy:

I know nothing about Matty Healy except that he’s 1. the frontman of The 1975, a band I also don’t care about, and 2. kind of a dickhead, but who am I to judge her taste in men? I don’t exactly have a pristine track record when it comes to dating dudes (which is probably why I switched to primarily women), so I have no room to talk. But apparently other Swifties do feel the need to judge her for her less-than-stellar choice. Like, some fans literally wrote her an open letter telling her to stay away from this guy, which is kind of wack, and also the inspiration behind like, half of this album.

But Jessa, isn’t this review about the music?

Well, yeah. I don’t want to ruminate on this topic for longer than I need to, but it’s important to contextualize this album. This is essentially a concept album about a forbidden romance, and one Taylor seemingly caused herself. You see, dating Matty Healy would taint her brand, but if the songs on this album are any indication, she thinks he’s the love of her life. What would you choose — the reputation and career you’ve built up for yourself since 2006, or the guy of your dreams? I can see why she wrote these songs the way she did. It’s a weird situation to be in, and not a situation I envy.

But let’s get into the music. There’s two parts to the TTPD — the album proper, and The Anthology, a companion album of sorts released two hours after the initial release. As a whole, the first half of the album is soft and synthy, owing to Jack Antonoff’s production, while the second half is closer in vibe to the folklore/evermore sound, with Aaron Dessner producing much of it. The fandom seems pretty divided on which half is better, and honestly both halves have some great songs and a few duds. For better or worse, the album is pretty cohesive — no one song really “stands out” as THE BEST, but most of the songs are pretty strong. Let’s look at some of the highlights.

Fortnight: This is the lead single, so I’m obligated to comment on it, but honestly, I wasn’t too impressed by it. It’s the same chords all the way through and is constantly building, but never really gives us that “oomph” moment it promises. Post Malone’s vocals add a little pizzazz to it, but it’s pretty lackluster for a single. I was expected Taylor to punch me in the face with whatever single she had lined up for this album, but it was a mild slap at best.

The Tortured Poets Department: As the title track, I feel obligated to comment on this as well. The 80s-ish drums grabbed my attention, but musically I wasn’t too impressed with this one either. Lyrically, it’s fairly strong, though. I think people miss the sarcasm. She’s calling out her boo for fancying himself a tortured poet, and maybe calling herself out as well. He’s as much a Dylan Thomas figure as she is Patti Smith. The theme of self-deprecation is recurring in this album.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys: This one’s a skip for me. The music’s alright, but nothing to write home about.

Down Bad: People seem to really like this one, but it’s a skip for me too. I feel like Taylor’s just trying to see how many f-bombs she can sneak into a song without it being grating.

So Long, London: Everyone was really anticipating this one since it was rumored to be about her doomed long-term relationship with Joe Alwyn. The light almost-choral vocals in the beginning remind me of “My Tears Ricochet,” one of the standout tracks from folklore, but it doesn’t hit me as hard as that song did for some reason. The line “I’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free” did send me for a loop, though. Imagine wasting the best years of your life with someone who ultimately let you down. I hate the whole trad-fucko ideology of “marry young so you can pop out a ton of babies before menopause” (which a lot of trad-fuckos pushed onto Taylor — looking at you, Stefan Molyneux), but there is something to be said about squandering all that time you could have spent building a life for yourself. It’s a sad situation all around, and this song captures that feeling.

But Daddy I Love Him: Now we’re cooking. This is the strongest track on the album so far. At a glance, it’s the big sister of “Love Story” — a tale of forbidden love, a modern Romeo and Juliet. The melody even has a sort of country cadence, throwing back to Taylor’s roots. Looking closer, it almost seems to be a takedown of those unhinged fans who wrote her that aforementioned open letter, the “judgmental creeps…sanctimoniously performing soliloquies” she’ll never see and the “saboteurs” saying “stay away from her.” The music takes it to the next level, bombastic and triumphant as she cries that her love is her choice. This is one of the highlights of this album and not a track to be skipped.

Fresh Out the Slammer: I’ve listened to this album probably three or four times now and I remember nothing about this song.

Florida!!!: This Florence + the Machine feature isn’t one of my favorites, but pleasant enough. I enjoy the cheeky “Is that a bad thing to say in a song?” as the lyrics imagine the bodies of past lovers sinking into the swamp.

Guilty As Sin?: Taylor really likes punctuation marks in her songs it seems. As a level-headed Christian, I at least appreciated the religious imagery in the bridge, which seems to have pissed off the right people. (Sean Feucht can go Feucht himself.)

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?: Upon my first listen, the first time she screamed “WHO’S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME?” was a bit of a jumpscare. And this song is supposed to be scary. The “circus life” made her deranged and disturbed, even using the metaphor of a performing lioness with her teeth removed. The song is bleak and upsetting, as it should be. This is one of the first indications that Taylor’s mind isn’t all rainbows and sequins but a dark, unsettling place.

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can): This song is sparse and brooding-sounding as she croons about a lover she insists she can change before the final line realization that maybe she can’t. This isn’t a standout track, but worth a listen.

loml: Another tearjerker along the lines of “So Long, London.” She recalls promises of rings and cradles, only to have her hopes of stability dashed. The instrumentation is appropriately sparse. Not one of my favorites, but again, worth listening to.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart: This is the one singular “glitter gel pen” song of the album, and it’s still a bit of a bummer. She sings about how her life is falling apart around her, but she has to keep up appearances, still smiling and giving us a show even when it hurts. The synths are bubbly and poppy, contrasting rather starkly with the lyrics. At the end, her voice cracks as she screams “I’m miserable and no one even knows!” This woman is literally on top of the world, and yet this song proves how terribly lonely she is. I think back to Britney Spears’ “Lucky.” “I’m If there’s nothing missing in my life, then why do these tears come at night?”

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived: This is probably her most biting song yet, a vicious takedown of an ex-lover who wronged her. Most of the song is pretty calm and subdued, but the bridge gave me literal chills the first time I heard it. Taylor’s the queen of bridges, but these might be some of the angriest lyrics she’s ever written. Hell hath no fury like a singer-songwriter scorned — trust me, I’d know.

The Alchemy: A skip, in my opinion. Nothing really stood out to me about this one.

Clara Bow: First thing I noticed about this song was the amazing bass-driven riff that carries the song. It adds such a darkness to the song musically. The lyrics, according to Taylor herself, are inspired by the way the entertainment industry markets upcoming female performers as the “new and improved” versions of their predecessors. It’s a time progression song that starts in the silent film era with actress Clara Bow, then travels to 1975, when Stevie Nicks was on top of the world with Fleetwood Mac. Finally, Taylor namedrops herself as the one whose star would eventually be eclipsed by a starlet who has the edge she never had. It’s the kind of self-deprecation I mentioned earlier that is ubiquitous throughout the album. This is an appropriate finale to the first part of the double album.

The Black Dog: Arguably my favorite song on the album and quite possible one of my favorites in her entire discography. It heartbreakingly tells the tale of a woman watching as her ex-lover goes about his life, oblivious to how much he’d hurt her. “I just don’t understand how you don’t miss me,” Taylor laments. The music crescendos at the end of every chorus, building up to a climax that ultimately never happens. Normally that kind of let-down would drive me nuts, but it works for this song, representing a love that ultimately went nowhere. The song also namedrops The Starting Line, a relatively obscure emo band, which made my inner 16-year-old squeal. I feel like people forgot that Taylor is a MySpace millennial too.

imgonnagetyouback: All of the commotion I’ve heard about this song revolves around how it’s a similar concept to Olivia Rodrigo’s “Get Him Back.” I think they’re different enough, but unfortunately, Taylor’s take on the idea doesn’t do much for me. It’s a fairly forgettable song compared to the other gems on this half of the album.

The Albatross: This is Taylor at her folklore/evermore-est. She does folk-tinged pop well. No notes on this one, just a solid song.

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus: The chorus is emo poetry at its best. “If you want to break my cold, cold heart, say you loved me. And if you want to tear my world apart, say you’ll always wonder.” Those lines remind me of “Your House” by my one of my all-time favorites, Jimmy Eat World. “If you love me at all, please don’t tell me now.”

How Did It End?: Another somber tearjerker. One line really stood out to me — “My beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree, D-Y-I-N-G.” The way she turns a childhood chant into something heartbreaking is chilling. Hey kids, spelling is fun!

So High School: This song is a 90s alternative-flavored bop reminiscent of a more optimistic “Hits Different.” It contains all the giddiness of being in a fresh relationship with someone who reminds you of the butterflies you got from your first crush, along the lines of Katy Perry’s now-legendary “Teenage Dream.” A lot has already been said about the lyrical content, particularly as it relates to Taylor and her most recent relationship with football star Travis Kelce, but as a guitarist, I couldn’t help but fixate on the gorgeous guitar tone present throughout the song. Aaron Dessner really outdid himself with this airy nostalgia-fest.

I Hate It Here: Not my favorite, but I don’t dislike it. A lot of the discourse around this song revolves around her line about wishing she lived in the 1830s minus the racism and sexism. People have called her out for addressing such heavy topics so flippantly, but it’s worth noting that she even points out how silly her fantasies are in the subsequent lines. This song feels like it was very much written from a childlike perspective, if said child was very loquacious.

thanK you aIMee: Yes, she formatted the title like that. I feel like the Taylor Swift/Kim Kardashian feud is very passé at this point, but Taylor has to kick the corpse of the dead horse one more time. If you ignore the fact that this song is obviously about Kim, it’s pretty solid, especially if you interpret the lyrics as a takedown of a childhood bully. It was cathartic screaming these lyrics to my own “Aimee” in the car. (Fuck you, Carissa.)

I Look in People’s Windows: Some more self-deprecation as she calls herself a “deranged weirdo” for creeping on people’s get-togethers through the window, hoping for a glimpse of her lost lover. It’s another tearjerker, although I don’t consider it one of her best songs on the album.

The Prophecy: Probably the saddest song on an album chock full of wildly depressing music. In this song, Taylor pleads to a higher power to “change the prophecy,” offering to trade her fortune for some true companionship. Her voice sounds almost pained as she begs for another chance at real love. It’s a powerful reminder that money can’t buy happiness, and it’s one of the standout tracks on this half of the album.

Cassandra: There are some similarities between this song and Taylor’s “mad woman” from her folklore album, both musically and lyrically. The songs speak of hunting witches and burning bitches, and it almost seems “Cassandra” is a sequel of sorts. The snake allusions hit two-fold, both as a callback to the snake motif associated with Taylor’s reputation album and as a nod to the actual Greek myth of Cassandra, who could hear the future when snakes licked her ears.

Peter: A solid song about a lost love of one’s youth. No real notes on this one.

The Bolter: This is easily one of the strongest songs on the album. It’s got a catchy melody that works in tandem with memorable lyrics that detail the life of the titular “bolter,” as her childhood associates called her. It’s a bittersweet tale — while her many trysts never panned out, she’s “got the best stories” to tell, which made it all worth it.

Robin: I’m pretty sure this song is about childhood and innocence. She seemingly talks to a younger person — “The time will arrive for the cruel and mean, you’ll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline.” The title is never dropped in the song, but it’s suspected that the song is addressed to Aaron Dessner’s son, whose name is Robin.

The Manuscript: This one has potential to grow on me, but it’s not one of my favorites at the moment. I appreciate the heartfelt lyrics for what they are, but nothing really hooked me in. I feel like “The Prophecy” or “The Black Dog” would have been a better album closer.

So those are my thoughts on the new album. What are your thoughts? Which tracks stood out to you? What are your “skips”? Let me know in the comments!

Music Reviews No One Asked For: Shadows Collide With People by John Frusciante

What’s your all-time favorite album?

Well, thanks for asking, daily writing prompt. I guess I can’t technically call this a music review no one asked for now.

I had a few albums in mind when I saw this particular prompt. Futures by Jimmy Eat World was my first instinct, being the album I cried to as a baby emo in high school while sneaking into the abandoned house down the road to hide from the world (I was dramatic as heck). folklore and evermore by Taylor Swift were contenders as well, being the answer to my prayers that she’d attempt a moody folk album. But I kept coming back to one particular album — Shadows Collide With People by John Frusciante.

Now it’s no secret I’m obsessed with John Frusciante, despite the fact that I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned him on this blog. It’s a shame, because there’s so much I could say about him. Like how we share a birthday. Who else can say they share a birthday with their favorite guitarist? Or how he talks to cats. Or how “Frusciante” because the new “f-word” in the newspaper office I worked in because I wouldn’t shut up about him. (The word “potato” was also banned in the office for unrelated reasons.)

I found Shadows Collide With People at a thrift shop or something back in 2015. It was around the time I’d just graduated from college, landed absolutely no job, witnessed my band implode in the most explosive way possible, was battling a burgeoning alcohol problem, and had my heart broken once again by the man I thought was the love of my life. All this to say I was in a pretty dark place. I remember driving around crying to this album, with its highs and lows reflecting my own turbulent life at the time. Even though John Frusciante’s struggles were not the same as mine (I never did heroin, for one), somehow I felt less alone knowing my hero had been to similar dark places. And wrote a pretty bitchin’ album about it.

The album itself opens with “Carvel,” a suitably weird rock song that uses ice cream cake as a metaphor for drugs. It’s probably one of my favorites by Frusciante in general, and sets the stage for all the angsty goodness that’s yet to come. The follow-up is the much more chill “Omission,” which features Frusciante’s protege and eventual Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist Josh Klinghoffer’s soaring vocals. “Regret” comes next, repeating the simple yet somber line “I regret my past” over melancholic music.

“Ricky” and “Second Walk” are both fun uptempo bops, but the mood is jarringly brought back down by the eerie “Every Person.” The next portion of the album contains two electronic instrumentals, both sparse and unsettling, as well as the catchy “Wednesday’s Song” and “This Cold,” which could easily have been a RHCP song. “Song to Sing When I’m Lonely” is sure to get stuck in heads, and “Time Goes Back” feels oddly nostalgic in a way I can’t put into words.

The next three songs are fairly forgettable in my opinion, but fit in perfectly with the context of the album. “Chances” is another catchy one, although not my favorite on the album. What follows is yet another eerie instrumental, although this one feels more sad than startling. The closer, “The Slaughter,” is, in my opinion, a masterpiece, and the perfect way to close this absolute adventure of an album. “I know my pain is a life away,” Frusiciante croons wistfully, and as the final few chords ring out, you feel it.

I think what gets me about SCWP is the fact that it takes you to some deep, dark places, but it doesn’t leave you there. Instead, the album takes your hand and leads you back out into the light with the final song. I’ve always loved a good story, and this album feels like one. It has a way of meeting you where you’re at, in the midst of the pain, and reflecting your emotions like a musical mirror. I can honestly say it has helped me through some difficult spots.

I’m studying music therapy for a reason, and I think SCWP is a beautiful example of what music can do. It displays the entire range of human emotion in a very raw and unfiltered way. Even though I’m in a much better place now, this album will always hold a special place in my heart.

Music Reviews No One Asked For: The Same Five Songs That Play On the Radio at My Job

Welcome to the inaugural Music Review No One Asked For, where I give my opinions on popular (and unpopular) music. For this first installment, I wanted to dip into the songs I hear literally every day of my life, on repeat, forever. I don’t know what cursed Pandora station my coworkers have chosen to be the soundtrack of the urgent care I work at (shout-out to all my fellow healthcare workers, yo), but I swear I have every song it plays memorized at this point. That being said, while there are some songs I wish I could obliterate from existence, there are a few bops amongst the rubble. Let’s start with the queen herself…

Taylor Swift – “Karma”

This was one of my favorites from her Midnights album, and for good reason. It’s catchy as hell, and so deliciously bitchy. That being said, I feel like it loses its luster after 4735383729 listens, which isn’t to say it’s a bad song, just that it doesn’t have the same staying power as some of her stronger material (like “Hits Different,” which I’ve subjected myself to for almost an entire four hour car ride and I still can’t get enough of). The new version with Ice Spice does little to inject new life into the song, mostly because there’s a bazillion other female rappers out there who could do better. Now if Angel Haze was on a Taylor Swift remix, I don’t think I’d ever listen to anything else.

Luke Combs – “Fast Car”

When I first heard this song on the radio, I had to do a double take. It’s so true to the original by Tracy Chapman, I initially thought it was the original by Tracy Chapman (in my defense, the speakers at work are bad). It’s so true to the original, Combs didn’t even change the gender of the song’s protagonist, which I have to admire. Here’s this big, burly, bearded country boy, and yet for the sake of this song, he works at the market as a checkout girl. I actually don’t mind hearing this song when it comes on because it stands on its own. It’s a powerful example of storytelling in music — the girl in the song desperately wants to escape her life of poverty with her lover, but he eventually succumbs to the very vices that plagued her own father. It’s a sad song, and it’s even sadder that the most meaningful song on mainstream radio right now was actually written in the 80s.

Jax – “90s Kids”

Is there a Grammy for “Most Irritating Song”? Because Jax is seemingly gunning for it. “Victoria’s Secret” was bad enough, but this one makes me want to stick forks in my ears every time it comes on. The references all feel forced, and besides, we’re all too old to be pandered to. Go write something for the Zoomers.

Some Guy – “Sunroof”

I don’t know who performs this song. It’s not even on the album art. It could be anyone. All the guys on the radio kind of sound the same these days anyways. Like, if you put a gun to my head and asked me to point out Post Malone in a police lineup, I’d be screwed. And for the most part, they all sound the same to me. It’s like how all the post-grunge guys had a “sound.” Can you honestly tell Nickelback from Skillet? I mean, I can, but only because my ex-husband subjected me to more Skillet than anyone should have to hear in a lifetime. Anyways, I digress. This song is kind of good, if I’m honest. The little “da da, da da dada dah” part gets stuck in my head frequently. As a songwriter, I admire anyone who can write a good earworm. Would I go out of my way to listen to it? Probably not, but it’s a pleasant little ditty.

Miley Cyrus – “Jaded”

It’s easy to assume my favorite modern pop singer is Taylor Swift, but the truth is, while she’s my favorite songwriter, she’s not my favorite vocalist. That honor goes to Miley Cyrus. The woman can do it all — rock, rap, country — and all with the finesse Kid Rock can only dream of. That being said, I was a little disappointed with this single. I was hoping she’d lean a little more into the rock direction she’s been heading in, and the chorus is fairly forgettable. I’m only judging her harshly here because I know she’s capable of better. Come on, Miley. Hit us with the true bop we all need right now.

What do you think? Agree? Disagree? Let me know in the comments! If you like my content, feel free to donate to keep this blog going via Venmo (@JessJSalisbury) or Cashapp ($The JessaJoyce). Thanks for all the support!

Music Reviews No One Asked For: Bon Jovi’s “New Jersey” Bonus Tracks

I’ve been itching to get back into “journalism,” or something resembling it. I enjoy writing about music (obviously), but my taste in music isn’t exactly current. Or good. So, welcome to the new series, Music Reviews No One Asked For, where I write about whatever I’m listening to at the moment, no matter how old or irrelevant or weird. Anyways, what better to start this series with than the object of my lifelong obsession, Bon Jovi.

Bon Jovi is admittedly not a critical darling. In fact, I’ve heard them described as “the Nickelback of the ’80s.” And to be honest, I don’t entirely disagree. Some of their music can err into cliche territory, especially more recent releases. That being said, they were the band that shaped my entire perspective on music and — let’s be real for a minute — have some catchy-ass songs in their extensive catalogue. In other words, I love this band to death, both for the music itself and for sentimental reasons, but I’m not so much of a stan that I can’t acknowledge their glaring weaknesses.

Anyways, back in 2014, Bon Jovi’s fourth studio album, New Jersey, was rereleased in honor of the band’s 30th anniversary, tacking on almost an entire second album’s worth of demos and outtakes. New Jersey is easily one of my favorite albums in Bon Jovi’s discography, so I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be added to improve upon it, but surprisingly, some of the new tracks were so good, I wasn’t sure why they were ever scrapped. Then again, Jon Bon Jovi didn’t want to release “Livin’ on a Prayer.”

The Ballad of Jon Bon Jovi | My Accidental Muse

Maybe he’s not the best judge of those kinds of things.

Here’s a track-by-track breakdown of the bonus tracks. I’m not going to review the main album, as that’s probably been done to death by music critics with much better taste than me. This isn’t the Rolling Stone. This is the blog of a random dumbass with a journalism degree and nothing better to do.

“The Boys Are Back in Town”: This is Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back in Town,” recorded by Bon Jovi. There’s not much else to say about this track, but it kind of slaps.

“Love is War”: Written by Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora as an obvious attempt to write another “You Give Love a Bad Name.” Scrapped because it sounds too much like “You Give Love a Bad Name.” This is one of the best songs in this list, but that’s to be expected, as it’s basically just “You Give Love a Bad Name.” Still not a bad song in its own right, in all fairness.

“Born to Be My Baby” (acoustic): Apparently, Jon believed this song would have hit number one if this version had been released, and I don’t disagree. This version benefits from a Spanish-influenced solo and more prominent backing vocals from Richie. Then again, there aren’t many Bon Jovi songs that wouldn’t be improved with more backing vocals from Richie.

“Homebound Train” (demo): The official version of this song was one of my favorites as a child, although I don’t know why. It’s a little forgettable next to all the other songs on New Jersey. The demo is okay. Some harmonica, some weak “woo-woos” from Jon that are sort of amusing, but overall nothing special.

“Judgement Day”: The lyrics of the band’s ’90s era utilized quite a bit of religious imagery, so this feels almost like a precursor to that. Like a lot of Bon Jovi songs, nothing especially profound is espoused, but it’s a certifiable earworm.

“Full Moon High”: The opening line “penny for your thoughts now, baby,” was recycled in Jon’s solo release “Miracle,” but I can’t give him too much grief for self-plagiarizing, as I’ve used lyrics from scrapped material in new songs. Also quite glaring is how the prechorus has aged like absolute milk in the same way as “Baby It’s Cold Outside.” “You say stop, I say go, I say yeah, you say no” comes across as a little skeevy in a post-#metoo culture. Otherwise, it’s one of the stronger songs in this list, lyrically.

“Growing Up the Hard Way”: They really wanted those “na na nas” on the album, because I swear I’ve heard it on at least three different songs already.

As a songwriter, JBJ’s strength lies in character building. You want to cheer for Tommy and Gina. You want to chill with Captain Crash and the Beauty Queen from Mars. You want Joey Keys to find a better life and for the protagonists from “Someday I’ll Be Saturday Night” get out of their funk. This song hits a lot of those same notes. The young groupie escaping from an abusive father, the would-be golden child whose drunk driving derailed his otherwise charmed life. Bon Jovi loves to create characters and subsequently break your heart for them.

“Let’s Make It Baby”: Ah yes, the triumphant return of the talkbox, first introduced in “Livin’ on a Prayer.” I have to admit I have a soft spot for this particular guitar effect. Maybe I have a Freudian excuse for this, as Peter Frampton was certainly the catalyst of my sexual awakening.

I'm A) Road Runner by Peter Frampton on Amazon Music - Amazon.com

DO YOU BLAME ME?

Anyways, speaking of things that are sexual, Bon Jovi was, for the most part, not. Sexy, perhaps, but compared to their contemporaries, Jonny and the boys look like nuns, so much so that my mom didn’t even bat an eye when I got interested in them as a youngin’. This song, though? This is the song I’m certain she’s happy I didn’t discover as a child. If, by the end of the song, there’s any doubt as to what it’s about, the ever-cheeky Richie makes it absolutely clear in the last five seconds.

“Love Hurts”: Not a cover of the song made famous by Nazareth but a good song nonetheless. Out of all of these tracks, this one is probably the most likely to get stuck in my head. Not a whole lot more to add, except that it’s a classic Bon Jovi bop.

“Backdoor to Heaven”: A classic mid-tempo ’80s ballad that may or may not be about butt stuff. This might actually be my favorite on here, if I’m honest. The desperation in Jon’s voice, coupled with those soaring harmonies from Richie, it’s just … ugh, chef’s kiss. This one should absolutely have made it to New Jersey. What the heck, guys?

“Now and Forever”: I’m sure if I heard this at any other time in Bon Jovi’s history, I’d write this off as just another vaguely cliche song. Having heard it after Richie’s departure, I just …

Richie Sambora Wanted Bon Jovi to Be Less of a Solo Vehicle

I’m not at all emotional about this.

Anyways, “a heart’s just a heart and songs have to end, dreams will be dreams but friends will be friends now and forever” just hits differently.

Come back Richie. We need you.

“Wild is the Wind” and “Stick to Your Guns” (demos): My two favorites from the album proper, but the demos don’t really add much. They’re literally just the songs we know and love, but less polished and not as inspired. I didn’t even feel the need to cover them separately. If you’re at all curious about these, don’t be. Just listen to the official versions. Take my word on this.

“House of Fire”: If you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have guessed that this was written by Alice Cooper and Joan Jett. This feels like a Bon Jovi song. That’s really the only thing I have to say about this.

“Does Anybody Really Fall In Love Anymore?”: Repeat after me, Jon: It’s okay to lower the key. If you can’t reach the high notes, it’s okay to drop it down a half-step or so. It’s not a big deal. Richie and David are big boys. They’ll figure out how to play it.

As an aside, this song was also recorded by Cher, because there was a weird time during the late ’80s when Bon Jovi and Cher collaborated. Anyways, Cher is an absolute queen, and even when recorded by her, this song is kind of boring. “Love is War” would have been a better choice for her. In fact, I’d gladly saw off my own toe with a nail file to hear her cover it. Seriously.

Cher - Age, Songs & Movies - Biography

Cher if you agree.

“Diamond Ring” (demo): I almost skipped over this song. The official version was released with These Days years later, and it was the only song I didn’t really like off that album as a child. After all, it was slow and boring, and it was about getting married and boring stuff, unlike “My Guitar Lies Bleeding in My Arms,” which was about more kid-friendly problems like, uh, contemplating suicide.

I’m glad I didn’t pass this one up, though, as the demo is a thousand times more badass than the version that actually saw a proper release. Even without being explicitly about sex, this song manages to feel almost as horny as “Let’s Make It Baby.” Those guitars. That bass. Jon’s rasp. Good Lord.

Wait, was Bon Jovi actually the thirstiest band of the 1980s?