On...Heartbreak [as] The National Anthem

First Wednesday Words of the year, because bronchitis (or something) has thrown me for a loop. Whatever it is, it's lingering, which has made anything beyond essential "must-do" tasks trifficult to complete.

Case-in-point: I have lost all motivation for exercise, so in an effort to stay moving when all I want to do is hibernate, I set myself the task of listening to the entire back-catalog of Switched On Pop. I've listened to a few episodes here and there -- mainly the ones on Disney + Taylor Swift -- but there's over 500 episodes; there's a lot I've missed.

So I started with Episode #1 -- "Heartbreak." In my head, I was brainstorming ideas for this post and I was tossing around things like cruise posts or something vaguely related to Taylor and even finishing up my "Take A Bite Dearie" series.

Best laid plans.

The entire first episode of Switched on Pop is centered around the question: "What is it about music that can connect us to that feeling of heartbreak so immediately and so palpably?"

And what I love and appreciate about Switched on Pop specifically is that they analyze songs from the musician's perspective -- the songwriter and the musicologist -- and that is a perspective that is just so novel and foreign to me (in the best way).

Anyway. At the end of the episode, Nate Sloan and Charlie Harding reference a McSweeney's article by Nick Hornsby, titled "'Oh My Sweet Carolina' by Ryan Adams." It's part of a larger series, but the thesis seems to boil down to "musical unhappiness = artistry." Nate and Charlie reference a specific passage from the article which I couldn't stop thinking about -- it burrowed itself into my brain.

"Some people are at their best when they're miserable. Ryan Adams' beautiful Heartbreaker album is, I suspect, the product of a great deal of pain[...]. On Adams's next album Gold, he seems to have cheered up, and though that's good news for him, it's bad news for me...His upbeat songs are fine, but they sound a lot like other people's upbeat songs...; his blues give him distinction."

And oh if that didn't remind me instantly of the discourse around Taylor Swift and The Life of a Showgirl. Let's rewind a bit: when TTPD came out, the initial reviews were scathing. You've got headlines like "The Torturous Cringe of the Tortured Poets Department" and "Down Bad or just bad?" and USA Today's "Taylor Swift's Tortured Poets Department is a lyrical letdown." [Sidebar: WHAT? Almost two years later and I still remain convinced that these people didn't listen to the same album I did or....]

Or....it's "cool" to hate on Taylor's latest album because it gets clicks and engagement.

Because after the initial release, opinions started to change. ➡️ ➡️ ➡️

Case in point. Suddenly, TTPD is one of Taylor's greatest works -- perhaps a little overly long, but one which showcases her poetic abilities and lyrical skills.

It's not an album of bops -- it's an album that, even after a cursory listen, seeps under your scars and into those crevices of your soul where you buried the slivers and shards of broken hurts and settles there.

You can't just listen to TTPD; you have to feel it.

Now, fast-forward a year and a half: The Life of a Showgirl is released -- and it's the exact opposite of TTPD in every way. It's a tight 12 tracks (fitting, for the 12th album) -- Jack Antonoff and Aaron Dessner are nowhere in sight -- and it's full of absolute bops.

And the reviews? Well they seemingly validate Hornsby's thoughts on heartbreak albums to a tee.

In their "How Stupid Was This Year" "issue," Vulture declared that one of the reasons for 2025's stupidity was that "Taylor Swift forgot how to write." Handler believes that this album is proof that Swift, "one of our greatest aughts-era song­writers, who used to effort­lessly shed lines," is no longer capable of writing well (whatever that means. Not to mention, this is also an artist who has lines like "we are never getting back together, like ever" and "to the fella over there with the hella good hair." So. You know. Balance.)

As Hornsby says, her blues no longer give her distinction.

And this is something Taylor is aware of, has thought about, and been asked about. And she's admitted that she used to be afraid that if she was ever happy, her songwriting would "dry up":

"What will you ever do if you get happy? What will you write about? Will you just never be able to write a song again? ... What would I do?"

I think The Life of a Showgirl has (1) given us an answer to those questions and (2) also proved that Taylor is, above all else, a songwriter, and her ability to write -- however valid her fears -- didn't "dry up" and disappear. Instead, she just wrote about the "simple relationship where you're just really happy." (See: "Wood." and "Wish List." and "Honey.")

And this is where I think Hornsby got it not-quite-right. That is, I think he may have been right about Ryan Adams's healing from heartbreak (I wouldn't know; I'm not familiar with his music and after learning a bit more about him, I'm not inclined to be), but Taylor Swift will always be "distinctive" -- whether she's writing about simple happiness or heartbreak.

Sure. You can cherry-pick lyrics to say Taylor Swift forgot how to write.

But you can also cherry-pick lyrics to say that she can.

Two of my personal favorites are the bridge of "Eldest Daughter" and this one from "Honey."

The thing is, like any great writer -- and Taylor IS a great writer -- she knows how to arrange her writing to convey the message she wants. Its the same advice we give to writing students -- know your audience and what you want from them.

But Taylor's first audience is herself: her songwriting reflects the emotions she's going through at a particular moment.

The best way to convey heartbreak is through achingly poetic lyrics that pierce your soul.

The best way to convey happiness is through a series of bops about how happy you are to have found someone who "shimmers that innocent light back" and who blooms under bright lights and who says "it like you're in awe of me / and you stay until the morning."

I think that we also forgot how hard it is to write, period. Heartbreak, joy, it doesn't matter. Nobody accuses Shakespeare of forgetting how to write when he includes sonnets about idealized love along with the ones on the pain of longing. So we shouldn't accuse Taylor of it when she writes songs that perfectly capture the joys of being in a relationship where your partner celebrates, rather than diminishes, you.

So, no. Taylor Swift didn't forget how to write. And while she certainly doesn't have to prove anything to us, she already did -- on TTPD,

an album that many people initially dismissed as "juvenile, shallow, and pedestrian." But you can't draw a connection between songwriting-ability-and-heartbreak. It's not that simple.

Writing isn't something you can simply forget how to do. Writing about joy was her choice.

Heartbreak may be the national anthem, but Taylor is too busy dancing -- through the lightning strikes -- to get knocked off her feet.