How does she do it?
A mere four-ish months after the surprise drop of Taylor Swift’s eighth album folklore she’s back at it again with its “sister record” evermore, meaning fans are once again treated to her romantic folk poetry — and an all-time great country revenge song.
There’s plenty to say about the album’s vivid wordplay, dreamscapes and feelings bubbling up like a brook in the woods she’s metaphorically exploring, but honestly, after a few listens all I want to do is scream about how wonderful the Haim collaboration “no body, no crime” is.
Let’s break it down: We kick off the song with sirens. “He did it, He did it,” she chants as she envelopes listeners with the facts and clues of the cheating husband, before unloading her repeated confession: “I think he did it but I just can’t prove it.” Never fear: Proof is never a problem for long in songs about women taking care of a no-good paramour.
The tune is so…fun!? The chorus, with its thumping, soulful “ohs,” is catchy as hell, and lyrical murders of cheating husbands are always a sonic delight, building anticipation with each new verse. (It’s pleasing to picture Swift growing up listening to the classic “Goodbye Earl” by her beloved The Chicks and giving fans her own version.)
It’s a total blast to hear her and her buddies cut loose for one track, all witty, sharp, and free.
Because Swift is Swift she’s also slyly switching up your narrative expectations: “They think she did it, but they just can’t prove it/ She thinks I did it, but she just can’t prove it.” Elsewhere on evermore, the lyrics turn nostalgic and bittersweet, as Swift grapples with past loves, roads not taken, and choices you can’t take back, so it’s a total blast to hear her and her buddies cut loose for one track, all witty, sharp, and free.
I noted this in my review of folklore, but it must be such a relief for an artist who is so known for ultra-confessional songwriting to get to explicitly play with characters. Free of the burden (…at least somewhat) of people scouring lyrics for clues about her life, she’s able to take her pointed pen and show off her frankly staggering imagination complete with fully drawn characters and stories. On “dorothea,” she’s a young person remembering their high school girlfriend who has gone Hollywood. Metaphors are plentiful; “I can’t / Stop you putting roots in my dreamland / My house of stone / Your ivy grows / And now I’m covered in you,” she notes on “Ivy” about falling in love with someone while married.
When she does turn inward — as she beautifully does with the pop-y “long story short” — she’s full of quick quips, distilling a year of painful tabloid headlines about her life into just 17 short and memorable words: “Pushed from the precipice / Clung to the nearest lips / Long story short, it was the wrong guy.” You can practically hear the wink. In the personal “marjorie,” about her grandmother, she spells out what may well be a guiding life philosophy for herself: “Never be so kind you forget to be clever / Never be so clever you forget to be kind.”
The album continues her sonic exploration of going down a more alternative path, with the folklore production crew of Aaron Dessner, Jack Antonoff, William Bowery (Joe Alywn), and Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon all returning. Things are looser and more experimental this time around, however. The knowledge that folklore was so well received perhaps gave her some encouragement that this diversion was worth continuing. Her storytelling is still the centerpiece, but she’s branching out.
As for what comes next? She probably doesn’t know quite yet. Swift gives the title track, featuring Bon Iver, final placement, a beautiful, heartbreaking coda for both the album and this weird, hard year.
We aren’t OK yet. But she’s hopeful we will be.