Taylor Swift: two words guaranteed to put a shiver down your spine (either out of excitement or terror, depending on who you are). There’s arguably no-one in the world with more eyes on her than Swift, a woman who sees fit to spell out every detail of her life, from her romantic outings to her personal vendettas, in song— hell, even the flight logs of her private jet are a topic of public discourse. You may have heard that the singer-songwriter’s newest release isn’t her best work, but it’s our opinion that it may be one of her most revealing albums: ‘The Life of a Showgirl’ presents Taylor Swift in only the pettiest, cringiest, most unlikeable of lights.

In a move that strongly reflects Swift’s new record, let’s start with some small shreds of positivity: the opening leg of ‘The Life of a Showgirl’ (if you could even call two songs a ‘leg’) is, dare we say, quite good. ‘The Fate of Ophelia’ has just broken the record for ‘most Spotify streams in a single day,’ and that’s not a particularly upsetting fact: the track cuts right to the chase, diving into some bouncy pop production that hosts far more life and vitality than near-anything from 2024’s ‘THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT.’ Framing Swift’s relationship with footballer Travis Kelce as a form of salvation, wrapped up in (slightly questionable) Shakespearean melodrama, is suitably theatrical for an artist of this size: as we’ll see, that penchant for the dramatic is a recurring theme across ‘The Life of a Showgirl.’ The following ‘Elizabeth Taylor’ isn’t quite as strong on a thematic front, but the song does manage to weave its way through some silky smooth production— with such legendary technicians as Max Martin and Shellback behind the wheel, its comforting to see some works of quality emerge.

Something to take note of, though, is that neither song really dives into the engagement that’s at the heart of this album— when Swift aims the line “no man has ever loved me like you do” at Charli xcx rather than at her own fiancée, the record reveals itself to be shockingly vapid. Swift has never been the most versatile or characterful of artists, despite what droves of Jack Antonoff-haters will tell you: still, that doesn’t excuse the ‘watching paint dry’ monotony that is ‘The Life of a Showgirl.’ Max Martin and Shellback must’ve been in the next room when the beige country inflections of ‘Opalite’ and the flat guitar parts of ‘CANCELLED!’ were being developed: honestly, it’s baffling that producers as revered as them would put their names on a crop of tracks like this at all. There are no surprises to be found here, no moments of intrigue or mystery, nothing to dissect: the album really is just that boring.

Even Swift herself delivers an uncharacteristically uneven performance— where we could once count on a dependable, if forgettable, vocal showing from the singer, it now feels like the wheels are falling off. The chorus of ‘Wi$h Li$t’ is brought crashing down by a series of utterly horrific falsetto vocals: the way such shaky takes are layered together is enough to set your teeth on edge, in much the same way that the sickly sincerity of ‘Eldest Daughter’ has listeners across the internet bursting into laughter. Swift throws herself into a variety of moods across the project, from the steadfast concern of ‘Father Figure’ all the way to the goofy innuendo of ‘Wood:’ somehow, it’s the artist herself who isn’t in on the joke, delivering every single line in the same stone-faced manner. Even if a certain level of blandness is to be expected of an artist with this much sheer mass appeal, the lacklustre presentation of ‘The Life of a Showgirl’ is continually disheartening.

The discourse around the record isn’t poking fun at its glossy exterior though, but rather at the songs and lyrical choices buried within— Swift is taking a lot of shots in the dark this time around, and always seems to shoot herself in the foot because of it. The writing on ‘Actually Romantic’ is so thin it’s almost see-through, placing 100% of the track’s appeal on the childish schoolgirl insults hurled at Charli xcx: it’s a track best enjoyed by an artist like van Gogh, who had the sense to cut off his own ear before ‘The Life of a Showgirl’ was able to release. Any-and-all attempts the album makes to play the victim are positively revolting, coming to a head on ‘CANCELLED!:’ everything about the song— everything, from its placement on this album to its attempt at an underdog narrative— is utter torture.

“Good thing I like my friends cancelled

I like them cloaked in Gucci and in scandal

Like my whiskey sour, and poison thorny flowers

Welcome to my underworld where it gets quite dark

At least you know exactly who your friends are

They're the ones with matching scars”

Let's keep going: there are plenty more examples of awful writing to sift through. ‘Wood’ seeks to bring some excitement back into the record, but really just feels like a Sabrina Carpenter song without the charm— Swift only provides one reason she loves Travis Kelce across the entire record, and it’s for his sexual prowess. Fans the world over used to delight in dissecting the references to real-world people and events that would be sprinkled throughout albums like ‘reputation’ and ‘Midnights:’ in 2025, those vultures are being left to starve. Swift can barely even string together a comfortable verse on ‘The Life of a Showgirl,’ stuffing the project with awkward phrasings and forced metaphors: songs like ‘Father Figure’ and ‘Honey’ lean into all of her worst tendencies as a songwriter, doing her absolutely no favours. You could be forgiven for assuming that much of this material was written by Max Martin or Shellback’s unpaid intern— this is some of Swift's weakest material to date, only rivalled by the lowlights of ‘THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT.’

“Your thoughtless ambition sparked the ignition

On foolish decisions, which led to misguided visions

That to fulfil your dreams, you had to get rid of me”

‘The Life of a Showgirl’ is so poorly constructed, even Swift’s own fanbase (renowned for their unwavering loyalty) are beginning to turn on her— whether you’re a casual pop listener or a diehard who’s been there since 2008’s ‘Fearless,’ the singer-songwriter’s latest album will probably bore you to tears. The record houses no insights into Swift’s engagement, no interesting production, and only two songs that don’t sound like half-assed throwaways. ‘The Life of a Showgirl’ may be pulling in impressive numbers, but it could also be the beginning of the end for Swift’s dominance over the music industry: honestly, thank goodness.