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Taylor Swift dropping two albums in the year, arguably the best of her career, is — along with She-Ra just plain existing — the greatest gift 2020. I did my first listen to Evermore this morning while on my run (a great motivator to get myself moving). Gray skies, wind across the lake, and this interesting and sad and gorgeous album . . . it was a mood.

It was also, as I texted my friends after my first listen, a blatant personal attack. A lot of the songs, more than usual, hit way too close to home. At multiple points during my run I swore out loud to myself, sometimes stumbling at the lyrics, sometimes tearing up.

I have no intellectual or even musical review of this album other than it’s moving me today. I couldn’t point to a favorite track yet, there’s so much processing yet to do. Just a week ago I was processing Folklore in a new way after viewing The Long Pond Studio Sessions.

I am very grateful we have another murderous women country ballad (peak aesthetic).

But “’tis the damn season” / “happiness” / “champagne problems” . . . I know my taste and resonance will evolve. But some of lyrics were a fucking slap. At least for me and my heart. 2016 me would be in a puddle on the floor over this shit.

  • She would’ve made such a lovely bride / what a shame she’s fucked in the head (Champagne Problems)
  • No one teaches you what to do / When a good man hurts you / And you know you hurt him, too (Happiness)
  • I’m stayin’ at my parents’ house / and the road not taken looks real good now (‘Tis the damn season)

And so much more, fuck. I hope you’re listening to this.

With Love,

Natalie